Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1899-04-29

terrible secret OF his soul. He knew
that his circumspection had been 81
great that no one had suspicion OF
his love for Caroline. He tried to
pray, but when he closed his eyes lie
saw more wildly than ever her fair
face. He prayed with open eyes, but
that brought no relief. He reasoned
with HIMSELF Was he to blame? Had
he not resisted this love with all his
might? Had he not tried to keep
away from the woman aud tried to
love his wife? Why must he suffer?
But this reasoning only made his case
seem the more unfortunate and des-
perate. If Caroline would go away,
that would make his lot more bear.
able; but she would not; that was the
most pitiabe circumstance of all, that
she loved him as much as he did her.
He had seen it, he knew it, and God
have mercy on her! She was not SO
wise and reasonable as he, and she
would not go away, would not keep
ont of his sight. Ii he could only tell
her to do this! But then he would
have to confess his love, and lie could
imagine nothing more despicable than
that; he would rather die than do it.
He thought of his old life and work,
out there in Western Pennsylvania.
1t had been very monotonous and
commonplace, and yet he would
give all the world if that life could
be his again, if he could blot the
remembrance of Caroline Mason from
his mind. Could he go back there, or
to some other distant place. No, mis-
ambition and pride and this splendid
opportunity were too great And to
be away from her? 1t was what he
most devoutedly wished, and yet did
not believe he could bear it,
The afternoon passed away, and it
was almost dusk when he left the
church and went down into the city.
He had reached no definite decision;
the struggle still ragged in his breast.
There was half conviction in his
mind that he ought to go away from
Caroline Mason, but as yet he had rot
resolved to do this, and he disbe-
lieved in his strength of Will to do it,
AS he turned to so down Market
street he met, face to face, Doctor
Monson. DR.. Monson was the secre-
tary of one the societies OF the denomi-
nation to which Richard Heatherton
belonged, and was the young clergy
mans friend. They talked for few
minutes together, and when about to
separate the doctor remarked
"By the way, Heatherton, have you
any old college friend OF acquaintance
who wants position as teacher?
There is vacancy just now in our
colored school at Atlanta. The salary
is fairly good, and it isn't at all bad
place for person who likes work of
that sort"
Quick as thought the young mans
decision was made. Without mo-
ment's hesitation he answered:
'See here, doctor, let me have this
place. I am resolved to leave Phila-
delphia, and for while should like
to take rest from the work OF the
ministry. I have never been very
strong, and shall surely break down
if 60 on here"
This was only half truth, but his
pride made him dare 10 say it.
The doctor was astounded. The
clergyman reasons for wanting to
give up such fine field and such brill
liant prospects were so vague and in
definite that he was half inclined to
believe him out of his head; he remon.
strated with him, bat at length prom
isel that the place should be his.
When Richard Heatherton read his
letter of resignation the next Sunday
morning it created the most pro.
nounced kind OF sensation; and not
outstanding its statements and ex.
plantations, there was only one person
in that large congregation who really
knew why he had resigned.
The man himself felt he was a coward
to do what he did, and yet that his
cowardice was the victory of his better
nature. Waverley Magazine.