Lawrence democrat. (Lawrenceburg, Tenn.) 1884-1925, 1894-07-27

have taken great liberty, Mrs
Farquhar, but | have asked your
daughter if she would write to me
sometimes when I'm in India. viii you
let hero"
Mrs. Farquhar looked puzzled how
to reply, then she said: II certainly
think it rather strange request, Mr.
Fuller, and hardly know what to say,
but why do you wish it?" seeing his
look of utter disappointment at her
words.
"Why do wish it?" He repea ted the
words slowly, then suddenly looking
at the kind motherly face before him;
because she is good, and | have no
mother. Can you not understands"
MY poor boy" Mrs. Farquhar re-
piled, 81 think understand You
think my little girl will be good in
fiuence for you. In that case she may
certainly write to you. She is
very ignorant as yet of the world,
and consequently will not dream of it
being anything out of the common in
writing to you"
81 know she WON'T" the young fel.
low put in earnestly. "And Mrs. Far.
quhar, may write to you too when
I'm out there?"
by all means, my dear boy. | will
be your mother, remember, and Dulce
shall be your sister, and Dulce and ]
will write you all the home news every
mail. Now do you feel happier in your
mind, eh?"
THANK you ever so much and in
deed l do"
Poor young fellow" said Mrs. Far
quhar to herself after he had gone.
IF my dear boy had lived he would
have been just his age. I'm very glad
he asked us to help him" And a few
quiet tears would flow from the eyes
of the woman who could never forge
the child she had lost, yetglad that the
boy who had no mother came to hel
for sympathy.
1t was Hospital Sunday, about a veal
after Terence had left for India, ant
Dulce in company with her father and
mother was at the garrison church
The chaplain had taken for his tex
the words: ''Be pitiful, be courteous,
the idea of sympathy being the grea
alleviator of the burdens of the world
"Those who cultiv"te a ready sym
pathy with suffering of all kinds" h,
said, do more for the glory of Goo
than in any other way, for that is tn,
true meaning of the Christ-life; it i
Gods own charity, which covereth 1
multitude of sins.
After the sermon was over, Their
was a hush over the vast congregation
the rough soldiers had been touched
by the words of the preacher and re
minded of the benefits they themselve
had received from band of self-sacri
ficing men and women who, taking
upon themselves the burden of nursin,
the sick, illustrated in practical wa
that Christ-life.
Then came that most beautiful hym
for almsgiving: Lord of Glory VIII
hast bought u.s. with Thy life bloc
as the price" The magnificent hymn
was sung throughout with ring o
true feeling, and when it came to tn
words But oh best of all Thy graceS
give us Thine own charity" Dulce'
mind flew back to far different scene
scene in conservatory, where tn
scent of mignonette from her ow
bouquet seemed to permeate every
thing And she remembered tn
words a young fellow had spoken t
her, and how she had promised to pra
: for him always. And then and ther
she thanked God for having given he
S the thought, and so helped fello'
| creature by her sympathy And Go
: bless and keep him now and always,
/ she went on to pray.
l Amy letters from India, Dulce?" he
Y mother asked a few days later whe
| the mail was due.
"No, mother, can't understand i
D this is the first time Terence has eve
e missed since he left | hope he is M
Y i'll, poor boy, all alone out there"
= Here's treat for you, some lovel
= fresh flowers. The generals wife hs
y just sent them up for the patients
And Sister Agnes put down bowl {
- most exquisite hot-house flowers b
. the bedside of the young subaltern WI
- was stricken down with fever Il
y turned his flushed face gratefully t.
wards them, then exclaimed: mig