The Marshall republican., 1910-01-28

fully withheld from him, and he
pressed steadily on, unloved and un.
loving, but hugging close to his heart
one delusive belief-love was still in
the world. Not for him, but for
others, life was still worth the living.
How or when this belief escaped
him he never knew. He awoke one
day to the awful conviction that even
this had been taken from him--that
nothing remained between him and
absolute despair. He had been a fool.
How could any love-even as pure as
theirs-how could even this make life
worth living? II was at best q frail,
uncertain thing, liable to snap at any
moment and leave life empty, DESC
late-like his own. No, life was q
mistake. Derring could fancy 1t the
gift of some arch.fiend who lay back,
laughing in his sleeve, as from afar he
watched men rushing here and there,
pushing and scrambling, cheating,
swearing, dying-for what? For a
willo'.the.wisp, q mirage. a child's
fable.
Thus despair took hold on him. But
the effect was % what one would
have foreseen. It drove him towards
his fellow-men. In his first grief he
had been moody and reserved, speak.
ing seldom and then only of the most
matter-of.fact details Of work. Now
he sought companionship. He courted
conversation. But his conversation
was sharp and cynical in tone. No
subject was too sacred or too tender
for his wit. II was as II the fiend
had taken him far above and had
showed him that all Is vanity and
vexation Of spirit-transient, feeting,
beginning nowhere and ending in
nothing-too trifing to mourn over
and surely not worth enthusiasm.
Every one in the Office, felt the
change. Many a ysung fellow who
came under the lash of his tongue
wondered vaguely what had come
svsr Derrine. But no one guessed the
cause. For although he seemed so
open and blum, he was more reserved
than ever.
Thus two, three-six years passed.
Then a change came over him. The
bitterness passed from his heart and
left only q great pity for mankind.
II was a cruel thing to create a race
capable Of suffering and condemn II
to a life of fruitless striving! The
hopelessness and the misery haunted
him-day and night. He became very
| Unntla Nunn tnuJa rHu ain md vfnQ hQ
showed a leniency that surprised his
fellow-workers. His own grief had be.
come to him a very small thing-hard'
ly worth q heart-throb In comparison
with the curse under which the hui
man rae struggled. He would gladly
have died to bring a ray of light to
men. He began to understand, dimly
that the sins Of the world may be laid
OF one man. But with the under
standing came a o lotion Of the
hopelessness. Every true man mus
suffer, must stoop to take the burden
on his shoulders-some to bear Il
even to a cruel death-but nevel
must one dare hope that because M
suffered another should be free.
For himself, as the years went by
he questioned no o Life and III
meaning had reduced itself to this
to help those that are In trouble-thiI
much he had gathered from thu
wreck. He knew that II was only
fragment, a negative sort of comfort
But 1t was better than the blanl
apathy Of indifference, It was some
thing to live for.
But happiness-living, thrilling hap
piness-was for him a thing of tn,
past. That 1t could ever come to hin
again he did not for a moment dream
Life was upon him. , He must endure
1t as bravely, as helpfully as h
might. But never might he hope for
Joy that should make 1t perfect, o
for a reason that should Justify tn
suffering.