The Newtown bee., 1894-02-16

pokeH to tilen inaHy years ago.
 WAS SPOKEN TO THEM?
 No, they may only have heard that some me said it about them; but that unkind word has been poison in their blood ,an | lrrow in their hearts, and it has blasted | heir hopes and it has ruined their lives. Oh! the awful, the hideous power of an each other dearly, who had often sacri- iced for each others joy, had seemed as if the soul of one was knit with the soul of the other, like the souls of Jonathan and David, and as if separation would be to either like the taking away of life; but, one day, from some slight occasion, the two brothers quarreled hot words passed between them, like the passing of heavy blows. When their anger ceased, a fool ish pride kept each from asking the par don of the other for the
 TASTY, WICKED WORDS.
 They could not live thus together in si- lence; they parted, one to go to the far West to seek his fortune among kindred not his own, the other to remain upon the farm. With the increasing years the gulf has only wdened. They think of each other often. In his inmost heart each wishes he could again look into the others face and ask forgiveness for the silly past; but pride keeps either from taking the first step. Will they be C. united ever? Will the beautiful light of Heaven banish the last vestige of rancor from their hearts. or will that one unkind word shut them both from it's glad joy ? o God, pardon their folly, wipe away their sin, and let these brothers again fold each other in their arms in the hap py love-greetings of Heaven.
 AN UNKIND WORD!
 Beware it's sharp sting, it's cruel blow, it's deadly thrust. It brings an aching heart and downcast head and a despairing life and desolate death and hopeless eternity. Beware! An unkind word You can never take it back; but, once past the lips, the winds of heaven carry it, and the mouths of men repeat 1t, and the days and weeks and years add to it. and it's baleful influence never dies.
 You cannot take back your unkinC words. May I tell you story to illus trate this? It is one of Will Carleton's DO ems, ''The First Settlers Story" can not give you the whole poem, so IT abridge it for you into my homely prose Let the settler tell his story to us, WHILE WE HELP HIM
 out with the words. It isn't the funnies thing to settle in new country. Natur' don't like to be disturbed. She's ha, possession good while and resents in reference with her tixins, and so sh makes it hard for the first conner. Sh scatters the seeds of her thriftiest weeds she sends blackbirds to superintend tn corn, she shakes fellow up every othe day with the ague and keeps in stocl wild cats, wolves and bears. This woul have been hard, but had a pretty girl wife to keep house for me. She helpe me in every way she could. She learne to use my axe and fire my shot gun; and when was logging in the wood, she stand around and lift tons for me jus with her voice and smile.
 WHEN SUNDAY CAME,
 we had a meeting all our own. My wifi would get down the big family Bible he mother gave her when she left home ! We would read our verses, sing ou hymns and make it good deal like ol times. But the memory of the ol church, with her father in the pew an mothers smile and brothers and sister and the happy home-cheer, came too tru and square, and a sorry shadow crosse her face. Neighborhoods meant cour ties in those days, and maybe week would pass before she would talk wit anyone but me. Heart-hunger peere through her face. She made a steady e1 fort not to pine; but, though she tough pluckilv, now and then there would es cape from her sigh. And then blame her for what she couldn't help and wa jealous because she did not find he Heaven and earth in me.
 ONE NIGHT, RETURNING
 | from nay work too tired and hungry t feel first-rate, her supper struck m wrong, though, poor soul, she hadn much to give me; and, when l went t milk the cows and found thay had stray ed from their usual feeding ground, tn stray-chains of my temper broke and i a trice these hot words I said:
 "You ought to we kept the animals in view, And drove 'em in; you'd nothing else to do. The hett Of all our life on me must tall;
 You just lie round and let me do it all" | She didn't frown or shed a tear; sh simply looked at me as one she'd neve seen before. That night, as theo~eticall I slept, heard her weeping. Half-tempt ed was to kiss her and ask forgiveness but pride held me back. Next morning as was off to work, she started to mee me at the door; but
 THOUGHT SAW A PROUD
 curve on her lips, and with shor l s'Good-bye'' I parted. That forenoon made the trees bear half the pain of m dull and aching heart. My lunch wa put up by her choicer than yesterday had been and she had tucked in som fresh, sweet-eyed pansies. I went hom over-early that night, thunderstorm was coming from the west-l aimos | wished it was. Half out of breath swung in the cabin door, hoping to gree my girl-wife there; but she was gone pencilled note lay on the table:
 | 4.rhe cows have strayed away again, fear; r .zatoi,a5 ttayt, Y,patfu oIoaa dnu, If ae0Id me