The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1900-06-17
an francisco Argonant.

San Francisco Argonant.
The lights were just being lit in the
village of North San Juan as the stage
rumbled up Main street and, after
throwing off the mail and express at the
! corner store, the driver with a grand
flourish of the reins, palled up at the
Metropolitan hotel.
A iady alighted, and quickly discerning
! the Ladies' Entrance, passed into the
room which served both as public parlor
and landladys sitting room. Mrs. john
son. the landlady, received the passenger
! cordially, passed remarks upon the heat
of the day, the dusty road and the tire
some trip, and, taking her guests hand
bag, requested that she follow her and
she would show her to her room. Mrs.
Johnson having said that supper would
be served as soon as she was ready, the
lady turned the key In the door and
sank into a rocking chair
Beyond the initials ''B. l. T." which
were embroidered on the linen bag,
there was nothing to remark about the
guest, save an indefnable something
which told one that she did not belong
to the class of people who might be
almost anybody" and that she was evil
IDENTIFY much worn by something more
than the days journey.
After eating a light supper, ard telling
Mrs. Johnson that she might write for
her Mrs. ThaXter, Philadelphia" on the
register, she retired to her room.
Sunday morning dawned clear and
beautiful. No noise of early milk wagons.
no rumblng of cars, no Changing of ferry
bells. no shrieNng of excursion whistles,
no huTry-skurry Of myriads of feet over
a city pavement, but a calm, sweet peace.
a holy demolition in the air which made
one think that in this elevated spot so
many feet above the sea, so many steps
nearer heaven. angels lowered closer to
the human heart, and that the low wind
among the pines was but the sweeping
Of their wings.
As Mrs Thaxter stepped through the
French window of her chamber and
caught a breath of the pure mountain
air, the care-worn expression left her
face, and in its place there seemed to
shine
"A newborn hope that casts a roseate
glow
Ger Life's gray sky"
As she stood there, apparently viewing
the surrounding scenery, but in reality
watching the narrow street and intently
scanning the faces Of the few people who
passed the hotel, a church bell broke the
stiffness, and as if accepting it's invita-
ton. she entered her room and soon APP
peared in the parOr Mrs. Johnson hav-
ing directed her to the Methodist church.
which was the only denomination repre-
scented in the town. she arrived at the
door just as. the last bell ceased tolling.
She took a seat in the last pew, and
quickly glancing around the small con-
gregation, with sigh as if being disap-
pointed at finding no acquaintance, she
turned her attention to the service. The
opening hymn and prayer having been
finished, the minister, a man a little past
middle life. arose and said. 80
Dear brethren and friends you VII
find my text in the seventh verse of the
seventh chapter of the gospel according
to St. Matthew, Ask, and It Shall be
given you; seek, and We shall findi knock,
and it shall be opened unto you
Every one OF us, said the preacher,
lis in this world seeking for something;
some for pleasure, some for fame, some
for riches, and l trust that all CT us are
seeking for a home beyond. But, breth-
rem, are we seeking as much as we
ought? Do we go into the alleys and by
ways, searching for lost souls? Do We
ask for grace daily, yea, hourly, to Lead
us onward and upward? Do we knock
long and loud at the door of Mercy,
pleading for pardon? Do we not often sit
with folded hands, gazing at the far-Of
stars, wondering whether heaven lies
near them or a great way beyond, when
in our very life-path stands door,
which would open at our faintest knock,
revealing to US the radiant glory which
streams from a self-sacrificing action
wOrthily performed, a good deed nObly
done? Heaven lies nearer, friends, than
We dream, and though our work seems
poorly done, and we sit and grieVe over
the tangled slleifl, 81. wet with hot, bitter
tears our handful of withered leaves, if
we will but listen, We shalt hear His
still, small voice whispering at eTen-tirne
it shall be light And you who weep for
friends departed, and Rachel-like will not
be Comforted, but stand, as it were, at
Deaths door, pleading to be allowed to
follow those gone before, some day, some
dear, glad day, you will close your eyes
amid these earthly sorrows. and open
them in Paradise; JOY will come with the
morning.
q" And with the morn, those angel faces
smile,
Which we have loved long since and lost
awhile
As the preacher uttered these last
words, Mrs. Thaxter bowed in prayer,
and as she raised her head, feeling the
air Of the room to be oppressive, and
fearing that she might give vent to the
anguish which had already filed her eyes
to overlooking, she quickly left the
church.
AS she reached the sidewalk, she hap
pened to look across the ravine through
which ran the main street of the town,
and her eyes fell on the sacred plot where
those that are away rest in low, green
tents, whose curtains never outward
swing" Immediately she felt a chilling
sensation, and for moment her heart
seemed frozen with fear, as the words
seek and yet shall find rang through
her brain. 1t was as if Gods finger had
pointed to that solemn spot While the