Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1895-04-13

fever Of the country made him It's vic-
tim, it seemed but a second burial
But life had still been full and rich
while her father was a part of it. The
beautiful home had its mission of cheer
while he was at its head. 1t was when
he went, a year ago, that Miss Isabel
seemed to draw the shades over every
grace and hope of life. She dropped
out from its interests and seemed to
have no heart for either the joys or
sorrows of others. The home was still
sunny and bright, but it was sadly still.
II wish something would rouse Miss
Isabel Martha would say to David
when, the work of the, day;done, they
rested in the large kitchen. "A won.
ans good for nothing unless some
things pulling at her heart strings.
Miss Isabel wants a husband, or some
child. or some fellow feeling for some-
body. If it's sickly, all the better. A
sick cats better than nothing for a
lone woman"
And David, well assured of his wife's
wisdom, nodded n sleepy assent.
The Easter morning came full of q
glorious sunshine. Miss Isabel sat
down by her window, Bible In hand, to
read her morning lesson, Of that other
morning in a far ,Iudean land, when
the stone was rolled away from the
door and the angel came to the waiting
women with his wonderful promise.
But he comes not to me-" whispered
the heart of the lonely woman, ''for
my dead hopes there is no resurrec-
ton"
When the church bell rang out its
sounding summons she obeyed its call
and sought the familiar pew.
Holy, holy, holy" sang the choir
with an earnestness that bore many Of
the worshipers into sacred presence.
"'Tis the day of resurrection" fol-
lowed the clear voice of the soloist. and
the tall lilies bent their heads, and the
green palms swayed gently in the soft
breezes that foated in. But to all
notes of Joy or promise Miss Isabel's
aching heart had but one answer:
There is no Easter awakening in my
life. All its joy lies in the past and
there is neither hope nor need of me
more" we
She gave but little heed to the sermon
Of her old pastor; there was too much
ring of gladness to suit her mood. The
hymn hat followed was unnoticed at
first. but the last verse, in the clear
bird-notes of the soprano, every word
distinct, arrested her attention:
"ro-day the angels are standing still
Beside the open graves,
The darksome gloom with their light they
fill,
As they speak of the Lord who saves
Christ conquered death In that bitter strife,
He will bring us into eternal life"
Something dimmed the sad eyes sud.
denly. Had He then so loved her? and
what had she done for Him?
Dear Lord" spoke the pastors voice,
full of tender longing, 'if there is any
soul here unwilling that Thou shouldst
roll away the stone from the door,
wilt Thou have pity and show that
soul Thyself? If there is any heart
here that has buried all It's good or all
its worth to humanity under any stone
of self, wilt Thou in tender mercy roll
the stone away. and bid the dead come
forth to living work, and to God?"
And that word was for Isabel Mer
rill. Alone in her own room, she gave
the afternoon to a look at her stone
From her sealed heart she drew out it.
self-pity, its neglect OF others, and helt
them up in the light. She saw how
many talents had been committed t.
her, and that she had buried them un
der her seltishness. Deep humility tool