Cochise review., 1900-09-19

as generous giver does mere gold. in loving service, glad to be the poorer;
 but there was grace and Ioveliness pass ing that of form or color in the quiet,
 Madonna-like eyes, the thoughtful
 brow. the mouth kept sweet and mel low by sunshine and rain, the words of love and the grooming of cradle songs; all was there, all the Life from which he had warned her--tears and laughter, moments of joy, hours of sorrow and grief, years of sweet, calm, even-paced content, hope. patience,
 anxiety. realization--the story was all written there, and it was gain, not losa;
 beauty, strength and all lovesome wom- anliness, but Death despaired not, even though he saw more of happiness than of sorrow.
 Now you are ready to come with me to Paradise; you who have known grief and loss. for have taken your children rrom your arms. and they bloom there. You have seen all that Life imposes; you have known wearinesS; you have felt the thorns and briars along the path. Life has not spared you labor or care. To you, and such as you. come a deliverer; one who bestows rest after long toll. All Life's burdens will be lifted. and you will forever fold your hands in eternal peace. Come with me, you who should greet the coming of . friend who will give you Paradise"
 But she looked up into his face, into the passion-pure. marble like features ot Death, and, as the glow of the Northern Lights fisshes into roseate hue even fields of ice and snow, SO the face of Death became illunined with au but human beauty and expression, as she said, her voice not the timid, faltering tones of the blushful maid who had once answered his plea, but the full-rounded, melodious accents of woman: "Go your way, Death. know all that life means, all that love gives and takes, and again will say, after all these years, Paradise is not with you. Paradise is here, happiness is here, for John is here!"
 And Death trailed hia ghostly Rar- ments through the house and went alone. with almost bitterness against his brother Life, who could so hold out and so charm. When she walked she said, as one who had routed and conquered foe: What does he know of Paradise? Paradise is here. for you. my beloved, are here"
 Evening shadows were gathering when Death came again. The room was all in half lights; mothers room still, but no longer that happy mother of little children. No little shoes upon the floor, no little stockings in the work basket; the low rocker where so many lullabies had been sung was gone; the little pile of school books and slates was put away; the lessons to be learned in mothers room were not to be conned from books, or written upon slates. The mans face still looked down from the mantel, but the pictures around it were no longer of children, but of men and women. All was changed, all the childish life was folded away, but the anxious ones as he passed them looked with eyes that stirred his memory, the fathomiess, ages-old memory of Death, with a recollection of two other faces-the child and the woman. neither of whom would go with him in these buried years.
 But now he had scarcely paused by her side when she said to him as one who greets and welcomes and half ehides friend who has tarried too long: "Why have you waited such . weary time to come for me? I have been watching and praying for you oh, 50 long! and you let me finger" And, as he gazed upon her out of the depths of the past he remembered her, although it was an old and worn face that was lifted so wistfully to his. white and lined, framed in snowy hair, tired and grief-stricken, but the voice was the same. though all it's u- brant tones were stilled. that voice that always took on a softer measure at one name. So it was that when they found her, the men and woman who called her Mother, on her face was strange, sweet peace, and 6 smile almost of triumph and much of youth; for it came when she placed her hand in that of Death, and said: "Yes, will go with you to Paradise,