Connecticut western news., 1888-05-16

aught unkinda Was he not always gen. tie to her1
 His wifo's sight She was not looking SO young. There were streaks of gray in her hair, and hor cheeks were not SC full and round. His wife's sighl Wa. it not her wealth that gave him leisure and indcpondoncea Was it not her in- fuence that had spread his famea Did her sigh imply regret at her choice, ol her bitter disappointment
 The preacher had a conscioncs, and it was making a sharp fight. Jacobs con- test of old with the wrestling angel finds its parallel in many an inward struggle of tho human soul. The preachers few minutes of agony seemed as long as the hours to the patriarch, and he too prevailed, and his heart waa changed, like the namo of his proto type.
 'T would like to see him SO much r' The tones of fresh, strong voice fell upon his ear as the curtain was drawn aside and young man entered.
 "Ah, doctor, I could not resist the desire to see you. have hoard of you so often, and your books are well thumbed at home. have so much to say" His eagerness rang out in every word.
 'You know have chosen the ministry for my vocation. Oh, doctor, feel so unfitted for the taskl My doubts are not of God, or religion, or tho Good Book, or the lovely traditions and asso- citations that blend with the faith. No, no; my doubts are of myself-my un- worthiness, my littleness, my poverty of the Spirit. What can do to cope with the taski How can I become a preacher to humanity9 How shall I drive home tho religion divinea How shall impcl men to follow the Mastcr2 The work is so sublime and I so insig- nifcant. What can do3'
 The preacher heard him. It seemed that his features were familiar, and his voice was not strange.
 "Oh, doctor, I do not care for books when struggling mon and weak women and tender children are to be uplifted. do not wish for fame. do not look for success, measured by Q large con- gregation, princcly salary, and grow ing reputati would have the prophets ideal realized in my life. Let the spirit of God rest upon me, however lowly my portion the spirit of wisdom and understanding. Let me not judge after tho sight of my eyes, nor reprove after the hearing of my oars. These words of Isaiah always occur to me, doc tor. made them the text of my grad uation sermon at tho seminary few weeks ago. T."
 'His graduation sermon," thought the preacher. 'Why, it was my very text when I graduatcdv'
 "Oh, doctor! doctor!' the young man cried, as the tears started in his eyes, '.pardon my impulsiveness. do not wish to be faithless to my ideal. So many start we'll and fail. Iwant to translate that text into life. There is so much to be done and SO few to do it. Don't you recall those lines from Low ell7 $ The Lord wants reapers; oh, mount up
 Before night comes and says, "Too Latel" Stay not for taking scrip or cup
 The Master hungers while ye wait.'"
 "Those lines-those lines," said the preacher to himself; 'thcy were always in my memory. Why do hear them nowa Have I waited for scrip or cup while the Master has hungeredp
 '1 know no greater curse, doctor," continued tho young man, with his cheeks all afamo with enthusiasm, "than to have my unfulflled ideal re- buke me as grow old. To have the spectre of the uurealized always around me; to hear the accusing voice of op- portunity mlsspent and advantages mis- applied; to feel that I have been dis loyal and cowardly, and bent only on my own advancement while religion has hungered-the thought would drive me wild. And have como to you, good sir, for kindly counsel. Tell me what I shall do. You sympathize with me. You too once were young like myself"
 "You have como to me-to me-fol counsel!" tho preacher exclaimed, ris. ing from hls chair and advan cing. "De you know how taithless I have been tc my youths ideali Oh, spare me-spare me"
 Tho preacher awokc. Was it but { revery, after alli Had his youth come back ta accuse him, like in Jean Paul Richter's drcam7'
 "Edith! Edith" he exclaimed, tear ing aside the curtain, and folding her, as she came, ia passionate embrace. Edith! Edithl you shall never sigh again. It is still day for us. It is no, too late, thank God!'
 He told her of his wrestling spirit and his victory. And when tho next Sab. bath dawned he preached as he neve, had preached before. People noted tho difference; hc felt it; and with the seed of humility planted ancw in his soul, his work grew to lovelier and more on during proportions. -]Harper's Bazaar. A Timely Correction.
 "There seems to be nothing in tho market" said Mrs. Hendricks, despair.