Year: 1862

er of her life, and it lis when we are young
and happy that we worship when we are
older and acquainted with sorrow we
prayl ..' '#.'a e' .f .s7 Pc" 1aam


One came silently to her side, put his
arms around her, and looked into her
face. She turned her eyes to his, filled
with an expression in which the fervor of
exaltation melted into the tenderness of
woman's trust and devotion. No word
was spoken between them love had made
silence eloquent and language poor-each
soul reflected from the other emotions 50
exquisite that the bliss Of Paradise can
not rival them, and yet so feeting and
rare that after-life recalls them only as
glimpses of heaven given in a dream.
And thus they stood, in the meridian Of
human feeling, surrounded by the glow of
the setting sun, the rich and gorgeous
clouds floating above them, the great book
of Nature open before them, heart to heart,
speechless yet responsive, and the thought
of the woman soaring to her maker amid
the glories of her hope" We love, O
God, we love, and arc part of Thee since
Thou art Lovev' .""i "'3..


In high room fronting street in
large city, the shades of evening slowly
gathcrered round solitary woman bat
tling with bitter memories; it was the an
niversary of great sorrow, and since the
rising of the sun she had wrestled with
her heart as one struggles with an enemy,
and the heart which cannot be stifed,
strives hard for the mastery over reason
strives and conqucrs and overwhelms.
She had come away forever from the pur-
pie mountains Of hope, soaring to heaven.
In the valley of despair she felt only the
shadows of the past; saw spreading above
her, only mists, unlimited and unpierced


What matters it to know what cloud had
darkened the golden light of youth d? She
herself shuddered when the familiar an
I gel of memory rolled away the stone Of
apathy, and badc her dead dreams rise.
She shared with no one living the sorrow
Of her life; she had simply achieved the
passing wish of her childhood she was
a woman Alas alas for one woman
who walks crowned with the lilies Of
peace, multitudes wear upon their breast
the white rose of silence. For one woman
who sings in the sunlight Of happiness
the song of joy and thanksgiving, myr-
lads stretch their arms in the night Of
misery with wall Of woe, q shriel,
for mercy, or the moan of an impotent
anguish. And so into this existence, as
into that of her sisters all over earth, had
entered the arrow of suffering, and ranked
there, while the wound, the blood, the ag


ony were hidden by the mantle of pride.


With uncertain steps she paced her mar.
row chamber, recalling, resisting the spec.
tres of other days; stopping every now
and then, with clenched hand and blood.
less lip, to strangle some passionate recol.
lection that would not lie still beneath the
tread of time No sound, save only q
name, broke through the stiffness of that
mighty emotion; no sob, no groan, nc
prayer. For years, for slow and bitter
years, through weary days and sleepless
nigts, the entreaty of her soul had gone
up to the Source of mercy and power the
heavens were deaf; the blue sky seemed
turned to stone; her prayers fell back
upon her heart, and she stood now front.
ing the future, without faith, save in the
workings of an immutable fate, hopeless,
loveless, alone. 5Ibi6H siw5l T. 49iraIJ


Suddenly pausing amid this inward
strife, she took from its receptacle an an.
tique, silver goblet, curiously shaped and
wonderfully carved, such as goldsmiths


long before Benvenuto, might have fash.
ioned for the tables of kings. 1t was th
heirloom of long line of ancestors; had
been the stirrup cup that speeded parting
guests from the castle-gates of naughty
race; and was linked with one dark ira.
dition of sovereign saved from treacher


Gus draught, by the generous act and 10y


al death of his hosts wife, who drained
4 the cup to save her husbands honor and