The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1890-12-21

we be together Drown care and enjoy your
self, Ned, dear old boy"
She lifted the glass he had once rejected to
his lips. He this time clutchedlt 1t, and though
it was not wine but far stronger liquor, he
drank 1t to the last drop as If it were cooling
water.
In the gray of the Sunday morning, while the
city was still slumbering, a tall, black-coated
priestly figure stole homeward like belated
ntght-thief. Snow had fallen during the dark
ness, and the wide street OF the new town was
smooth and trackless, white and soft as wool
beneath his hurrying feet His footprints,
showing black trail behind him on the side
walk stones, seemed to his feverish eyes to
mark the passage of foul thing over the daz-
zling purity, each step defng the spotless
way Reaching his residence, he let himself in
with his latch-key, and in another minute,
noiseless as burglar, he was hidden in his
study.
Brazen bells changed out in the crisp wintry
air, calling to church the just and the unjust,
earthly saints, and human sinners. The first
seighs of the season jingled along with merry
disturbance of the quiet, frosty atmosphere.
The broad streets, house tops, and fences
CLEANED in the sun, each evenly incrusted with
frozen jewels by the gentle snowfall. The ring
ing laughter of boys, snow-balling one another
by the curbstones, mingled with the music of
the bells. Sleigh load after sleigh load of
church-goers arrived at the stately entrance Of
the church, which was the architectural pride
of the young city. Within its lofty walls the
vaulted roof.
Ladies in furs and silks, gentlemen in over
coats and broadcoth followed the softfooted
ushers up the richly carpeted aisles to the ]uXu-
rlous peWs. FLOWERS rare and costly were be-
fore the pulpit and added to their fragrance
were the delicate perfumes from numerous fairer
roses in the shape of the city's most beautiful
daughters The pews were filled to the last one.
1t was great congregation-the greatest the
church had ever held. So the reporter decided
as he sharpened his pencils and noted the promi-
nent men present, from the mayor down. The
fame OF the young minister's eloquence had
gathered together all of the citys leaders to lis
ten to his second sermon. But he was late in
appearing. Minute after minute went by, the
| organ ceased to sound and then began again.
| The official chief of the church's laymen grew
uneasy. Il would be great pity to disappoint
| such splendid assembly by an untmely sick
headache. He did not know that the young
minister might even then be working at his SER
mon, with flaming eyes and trembling fingers,
| trying to make up lost time. But he did know
! that Mr.. Ashton had not looked overstrong.
Finally he slipped into his overcoat and went
! out in search of the tardy preacher. 1t was but
few steps to the PASTORS residence
''Mr Ashton, think, is still in his study
said the housekeeper; 81 have not seen him this
/ morning"
"But it is late" protested the churchman, in
| soft Indignation at such thoughtlessuess. Flo,
| quence was not punctuality, and there were the
honorable mayor and the highest people in the
| Si'y NOPo "aipihS' i1c paPpeu SuuIply dit ble
study door, then he called and shook the knob
Then, finding the door locked, and being as
sured by the now alarmed housezeeper that the
minister must be there, he, being strong man
and by this time excited, burst the lock and
flung open the door.
In the chilly study, darkened by the drawn
curtains at the windows, nothing but cold ashes
in the CRATE, the minister lay sleeping his last
sleep. Drawn up to his wrlting-table, upon
lounge was extended his black-overc coated
form. The upturned face, though rigid il
death yet showed lingering about the white
lips tender smile, as if in the solemn repost
he had been visited by pleasant dream. A
bottle labeled ''chloral' stood upon the table
The churchman groaned in horror:
"He must have felt nervous and taken al
overdose! ! He has been dead for hours. "
Beneath the bottle lay two scraps of paper
Upon one was pencied:
"A1 old friend aVOuld like to see you. Folio,
the bOy"
Upon the other, trembling scrawl, the pen
Gil still beside it:
"Let him that thinheth he Standeth, take hcet
lest he tdU.''