The Washington times., 1901-08-11

failed. He was a little troubled and
anxious II Is always very rad to see old
grief in young eyes ErG
This is not natural. If I could only
make her cry," thought Dr. Ross.
Ii was not natural. as he said. And yet
there was another side to the question
such an annoyance as. passing. vexes US,
makes children weep: and. though the
| care that writes itself on our foreheads
is TO them unknown, yet the sudden blow
that strikes man once or. twice in his
history. swaying him as tree that in
the rush of the storm bends and groans
ana fiings out protesting arms and muir
murs with a thousand voices-this sudden
sorrow In child is an agony thrusting
an unwelcome presence into a Kingdom
where 1t Is least to be desired, and from
which 1t is always soon dismissed.
DIT. Ross said to himself, Perhaps 1
mad better leave her now, poor, poor lit
tie thingi"
He moved toward the door. The lonely
inmate OF the room did not notice that he
was leaving her. She sat before n morse,
OF hre-a quaint little figure that had
known twelve years Of living, three with
out mother, five without father. and the
rest with sister-"tall. grown-up," who
had been mother and father and every
thing else that is good and brave. And
now the sister was gone, and the child
was alone
Gooc-by." said the DOCTOR
He was not answered because he was
not heard. He closed the door softly, say
ing to himself that he would come to
see her again on the morrow. He de-
scended the shabby staircase to which a
rev remnants of cheapest oilcloth still
chung. The landlady's children were play
ing touch wood" screaming vociferous-
~ as they rushed from landing to land
ing woman's tired voice urged them
to be quiet.
Why. by no means. ma'am," rang out
the doctors cheerful voice; ''let them
play. it will rouse her."
All. poor thing! How is she doctor?'
Quiet. much too quiet 1t is extraor-
binary in child of her years.
is anything settled as to what is to
be done?"
II fear not She seems quite friend
less"
You don't say so. sir? FriendIessl
Dear. dear,'
Long after DR.. Ross had left the house
that word "friendless'' insistentIy remain
ed with him. Suddenly it introduced to
him another word-a name. He paused
in his walk, for the idea that had come
to him was startling.
II.
At no great distance from the house
which DR.. Ross had just quilted lived
Gideon Beth, scholar and recluse. 1t
may be as well to say at once that the
doctor intended to visit this man, whom
he knew. that he might enlist his SYM
pathies on behalf of a child's sad heart
But what is there startling in this? Has
Gideon no sympathy? Is he poor and
old and grabbed and crotchety? Is he
one of those singular beings who stop
their ears when children play. and speak
of 'brats,'' pests" little nuisances?"
No. Gideon hardly comes under these
headings. The truth is that Gideon Beth
had been friendless from his youth up,
and resting on his own strong character
had grown to view the world with an
apathetic and dispassionate eye.
The trouble began with a retiring dis
position. which is not given to any boy
to cultivate He lacked spontaneity. and
so was always at disadvantage. On
such one Judgment is easily passed. yet
there is no instance in which it might |
with more wisdom be withheld
Then an unkind fate buffeted him con-
He bore it all in silence and |
with patience. for he was strong was |
but the soul within him grew |
hard as steel. He forgot nothing.
1t was a great pity, for he had an ex- |
cellent nature; but the best of natures |
will not bear shutting up. An assump- |
ton of taciturnity developed into tact !
turnity. He put on the pessimist's spec
tacies. and saw nothing but LIES little |
ronies And then one day it was all |
and Gideon became new man
with living fire within lin. He loved q
woman.
This was his great chance. He told |
himself that where love is life is, after
all. a priceless thing. And Gideon loved |
With all the strength of heart and mind
He even dared to hope, in spite of his
nveterate shyness. 1t was as if some
spirit had troubled him as Bethesda's
Pool was troubled in old time. But when
lie would have stepped down someone |
lad been before him. His love returned
nto his own bosom. 1t was terrible; but
he strength of the man closed over his
despair. Gideon was no coward to weep
IT vince, but he turned a deathly eye
Destiny might break, it
hould never bend, him.
Alter InlS, bSlH SIiul |
ID with his books. Fifteen years passed
nd carried him beyond the prime OF
ife. a:d made of him a tall. spare man
With a slight stoop, dropping white
nustache. and clear eye. Fifteen years
pent with the thoughts of other men
ad not changed his individuality to any
xtent. Tho face was a little more COM
osed in its sternness. that was all.
n ha |
on was buried in deep wicker chair,
nth "A reading lamp placed behind his
light shoulder, and books everywhere. He
ow turned to look at his visitor. The
octor was one of the few men with
HON he cared to converse. and the for
Ter did not hold the privilege lightly.
sit down" said Gideon, closing his
ook over his thumb and pointing 1t at a
hair. The doctor thanked him senially,
lough inwardly troubled as to the best
lethod OF opening the subject upon
.hich he had called. That's n fat book :
on are reading" said he.
Spencer" 9
"Ah FAIRY Queen or Philosophy ?' i
Il do not read poetry" h
Then | conclude it's the philosopher. =.
do read poetry: and very sad some Of
is, too 4
You waste your time. r
The doctor smiled. There was a man -
smed Longfellow-'
Quite so ,se all read him when we
-e young {,
who has made for himself place T
a thousand hearts. But when l said
read poetry 1 was not speaking so much
printed words. Be patient with me for
-e minutes. ! have been studying the
ening chapters of child's life. She is .,
little girl. age twelve Five years ago ! 0,