Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1891-12-13

the place was remote from everything
and everywhere. All day long fell the
rain. There was a desolate station to
which I added at intervals and drove
the weary station agent who stood look
ing out Of the window with the soles OF
his feet TO madness by asking when the
next train was due, and il there wasn't
one before that one. counted
all the tricks in long avenue
of cordwood piled up along
side the track, soggy and soaked and
waterlogged. ! asked the landlord for
a book, and he gave me the Cholera
Returns for 1s47.' sat around In the
Office, because there was q fire there,
and men came in from time to time in
tapping, wet, clammy gum coats and
backed up against the stove and steam
ed, and dried, and smolled to heaven
and back again. And along In the
afternoon the landlord said he'd have
TO ask me to get out Of the office, be-
cause the women wanted TO scrub It,
They were going TO have dance that
night, he said. But he would put fire
in my room. He did. The stove was
not quite as large as the pipe. The fire
went out as soon as the landlord did.
whitfield slim slivers OF binding from
the inside of the washstand drawer and
the back edge Of shelf in the closet
and after coaxing and blowing and weep
ing for a long hour, got fire about
the size Of mans hand started. /
knew that by patient coaxing, and by
feeding 1t semi-dry bits OF coal with a
teaspoon 1 could In time fill the stage
with all the confagration 1t would hold.
Just then the landlord came In. He
had scuttle full of coal which he had
shoveled up from pile that lay out on
the prairie. He opened my stove door.
'How's your fire gittin' along% be asked,
and added cheerfully: oh, frst-rate; it
needs little more COAL So saying he
dumped the scuttle OF soaking slack on
my fire, quenching every spark Of 1t at
once and forever. / could not speak.
leaned my face against the window, so
that the coarse, rough man could not
distinguish the burning tears that
sprung unbidden to my eyes from the
rain drops chasing each other down the
pane. And when he went out l lay
down on the concave bed OF unhaggled
husks and died. 1t is very weak and
foolish in me know, but usually die
when things don't go to suit me. It's
about the easiest way OF getting rid OF
unpleasant things. expect one Of these
days I'll do IL once too often If l don't
quit.
"And yet don't suppose, take 1t by
and large, that suffer half so much In
a day as a great many people do In q
wear or more. When we think how
many men have lived through all our
experiences and have endured them all
so much more patiently and cheerfully
than We have, we should not repine be-
cause the world doesn't stop to listen
every time we howl. Take the six or
seven thousand pages OF the worlds his
tory and you can read your own life on
every page except the first. Nothing
happens TO you. oh prince, that hasn't
happened TO somebody else; nothing. III
all your jokes are chestnuts there is
still less Of novelty in your griefs. They
are common as dirt. And most OF them
about as cheap. And 80 on have made
up your mind that is something
new to be seen in the. lorld by going
after (which / assure you there is not
don't start on your travels until you
have bought for yourself trustworthy
guide book"
This is the Bible she left her boy. that youth
with its eagle sight
Might vision profounder depths Of Joy, see
truth at clearer heiRhth,
When IL looked through the bitter sweet alloy
OF tears by faith made bright.
This is the Bible she used TO read; its markings
here aud there
Show where she found its peaceful need; where
she fingered In silent prayer;
Where her heart was heavy with sorest need;
where the skies are dull or fair.
See where the blistered pages show sad drops
that dim the line;
Rut uuder the mist Of tears We know how
brightly the truth would shine,
Where most the text Is blurred, below we read
the sweetest line.
So the Bible she read is a palimpses the word
OF God runs true,
Though written above It's messages blessed. the
lines OF human rue
Are penned In tears from soul distressed, IS
rose is senmed with dew.
For its text is dearer, It's truth made strong,
more blessing its promises bring,
Sveeter and clearer the joyous song Peace
taught her heart 20 stag,
And purer tints 70 the illes belong, for the pain
OF their blossoninE.
ROBERT J. BURDETTE.