The San Francisco call., 1897-04-04

brighter, blacker, noisier or grander. The
thunder was too loud 10 awe; the light
ming too bright and sudden to daze and the
blackness too often broken TO ate fear.
Inc lonely passenger, protected by the
weather cloth, grasped the taffrail with
his hands and divided his attent ton be-
tween sea and sky. Violent squalls fire.
quent!y forced the lee rails beneath the
water and the darkest and lowest clouds
appeared To settle almost on the crest of
the waves. The orgies of the descending
hail; the wind making 2olian music with
every shroud and rope; the cracking of
every stanchion and plank; the wild
breaking of the huge waves as they rushed
up to the buiwarks, washed across the
decks and pursued their irresistible career
to leeward; the tearing asunder of the
clouds by the weird, fantastic, fiery
lightning; the chirping of the little petrels
low on the water and the cawing of the
big sea birds high above the masts-all
this was as paradise to the solitary pas
| senger. He looked with absolute pity
upon the mate when that officer suggested
that he leave it all and retire TO the
warmth OF his berth.
few minutes after making the not al
together unreasonable suggestion the
| mate thought he heard the man behind
the weather-cloth speak.
''Did you speak, sir?' But there was
no answer and the mate concluded he had
made a mistake-but he had not.
For the first time he realiz d that the
wind was cold and that frost had formed
| on his mustache. Before he had time to
brush it away with his mittened hand
the turmoil commenced once more and
his mind was again in harmony with it.
Suddenly he saw something in the
clouds; flash of lightning hung in the
heavens few seconds longer than usual.
He could plainly distinguish an almost
| perfect figure advancing toward him over
the white tops of the mighty waves. He
extended one hand to greet it-or her.
| and with the other he attempted to brush
| from his eyes the film that he thought
| was responsible for his not seeing clearer.
But it was not haze; he was not yet
fitted to see perfectly. The unholy thought
again came unbidden that if he were to
take one plunge his yearning would be at
an end. That wicked suggestion robbed
him instantly of the power to see at all,
for he was gazing, not with his eyes, but
| with his soul.
! The lightning faded away almost as sud-
denly as it came. The passenger dropped
both his hands, muttered a despondent
| "Oh!" and laboring beneath an unspeak-
able weight of disappointment he sought
the seclusion OF his berth. The storm be-
| came irksome to him and he realized that
the ship was tossing violently.
| An nother New Years eve an old man sat
in scantily furnished room. His chair
was drawn to little table. upon which
his arms rested, they in turn receiving the
weight OF his head. On the mantel-
piece was the little urn, around which his
whole life had been encircled. and from
which 1t drew its inspiration. He watched
it intently. Not for an instant did he take
his eyes off it, and never was human gaze
more expectant. The concentration of
those diated orbs on the precious recep-
tacle was so intense it was not difficult to
imagine a tangible connection between
| them.
1t was sundown when he sat py the
| table, but the stars had twinkled many
| hours before he felt that his desire was on
the eve of being fulfilled. He was again
| young. Half century had been blotted
| to ashes-to immortality"
| His eyes raised little, and oh the un.
| natural light that illuminated them. 1t
was unearthly, beautiful, the expression
| OF perfec, Joy. Over the urn he again
saw those eyes. There was no haze be-
| fore them they were as clear as day. As
he watched the form of face surmounted
them, the same face he had almost been
permitted to see so many times during
| the past fifty years. marred not by a single
| wrinkle. and in whose veins the blood
ceased to course exactly as the clock struck
| ten, so long ago.
The old man looked up for a brief in
slant. Although the night was dark, for
| small space OF time the room was filled
with light. He looked at the mantelpiece,
| but the urn was not there. Over the place
where it had been was the almost perfect
| figure that had been enshrined so long in
| the eve OF his mind.
| "Ashes to immortality" he gasped, and
his head fell heavily on his hands. Slower
| and slower he breathed. The figure
stretched out her hands and approached
| him. A sound came from his bended
| head. 1t was that peculiar human ex-
| preston that expresses perfect content
ment. Just as the breath left the worn
out body it was no longer a vision. The
moment he cast off the shackles of the
world arms of love were extended as
| though ready to welcome some one in a
| warm embrace and before they closed the
| room was dark.
| Next day a rigid lifeless cid man was
| found in a room in a lodging house, and
! twelve wise men recorded a verdict of
''death by the visitation OF God"
STUART w. BOOTH.