Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1894-05-04

But she turned him into the better way.
His thou hts were purified even when
he chafed and raced at the might have been
He learned that living is not a whim.
For the soul in her became part OF him
HE fights as others-to win or fall
And the spell of the woman Is over all
Bravely they battle in thin degree
For the woman love shall be proud OF mer
And the man and woman, the one in heart
May be buried together. or buried apart
But the strong will battle for his degree-
Add the woman love shall be proud OF mel"
He read the poem over, then read it
again. Down went the brown head
upon the desk, and sob passed the
sweet, sensitive lips, shaded by a
silky, dark mustache. At length he
lifted his head, and the deep, dark
eyes, with their long curling lashes,
were wet with tears.
at is just like herr re murmured,
softly. "She is just like the woman
in this poem. How noble and good
she is! 1t is always the noble and
good that is unattainable to me! Look
at yourself, VIII Summers"
He arose, and going over to the
mirror upon the wall, gazed for few
moments upon the handsome face,
with its haunting eyes and tender
mouth; then he turned away-moody,
disconnected.
"What am I, TO hope to make wo-
man my friend?" he groaned.
''True, | am young, passably good
looking, possessed of means sufficient
for ordinary use. But she-she with
her heart of fire, her brain, her warm,
generous nature, and above all the
talents which make her superior to
other women-she would never think
of me! Yet her very presence gives
me trength-courage. When / am
with her / feel desire-a necessity
to make for myself a name. 1 had
once thought myself talented, be-
lieved that the profession of writer
was open to me; but now / am utterly
discouraged, beset on all sides with
obstaclcs-hedged in by doubts Ill
health, failing ambition-bah! / have
no longer any ambition. At thirty /
am an intellectual wreck"
He paced up and down the floor of
the pretty room which he designated
his "den"-a room whose walls were
lined with books, and everywhere in
dications of taste and refinement. At
last, in sheer despair, he sat down and
wrote a letter. When it was finished,
he addressed it to Mrs. Augusta Story,
in far-oif southern city.
For several years these two had cor
responded, meeting occasionally; and
each had found in the other an ideal
companion. She was a writer of fic-
tion-a brave little woman, all alone
in the world. In Augusta Story, VIII
Summers had found his dream full
filed, of pure, true womanhood; to
him she was star of hope, the only
creature in the world who understood
him, and read him Alright.
To-day he had come across the little
poem which had so affected him that it
brought tears to the eyes of this man
-world-weary and sad, trying to make
himself believe in his own uselessness.
Yet all the time, within his breast, a
still, small voice was whispering of
hope-for him-for him. THE spell
of this woman was over all"
She led him onward and upward.
Her hand pointed to the better world;
her example stirred all his higher ma
ture.
Ambition aroused within him; hope
awole within his breasts and with
hope, the desire to make name.
"He learned that living is not a whim;
Fer the soul OF her became part Of him"
Will Summers took up the pen once
more, and slowly but surely lit is nee
essarily slow work, but that makes it
all the surer) he began TO carve out
his own future His talents were de-
voted to doing good. His pen was
never defiled by an unlxind or cruel
assertion-no soothing at honor or up
rightness; not afraid to defend just
cause, no matter how unpopular it
might be. His name became the syn
onym of honor, and he was known as
the champion of all good causes.
"T want TO invent said the Fiend with q
SMILE
Aweapon that's cowardly, fierce. and vic,
For madmen and roZueS to play with.
More deadly, more brutal, moro cruel, more
Than dynamite. dagger internal machine,
Or anything Christians Stay with
"'I want to improve on the poisoned shaft,
On the hellish weapons OF heather craft
On Europe's most skilled invention.
IL must beat the bullet outstab the knife.
Its wounds must torture, while fingers life
Is there anything you can mentionY
.gThen he thoayht of the scribes inhuman.
Who make OF a gift that the gods might own
The deadliest weapon the world has known,
And stab both man and woman:
And the Fiend went straight to his desk, and
took
weapon that lay by his blottng-book
And held IL above him, crying:
Here's the deadliest weapon that woundeth
menl
Can the devil improve on the poisoned peng
Said the Devil, i don't mean trying >"
At last he was able to offer to the
woman he loved a name which shown
brightly among the stars in the liter
airy galaxy. He had made up his
mind that life was empty and dreary,
and utterly unlivable without her. So
he wrote few lines:
81 must see you," he said. eff do
not receive telegram from you, for
bidding me to come, / will be with
you in a week"
No telegram came; and week later
he stood before Augusta Story, in the
little parlor of her quiet home. And
n 4 l.