Year: 1877

Read.


She was gone


The last breath came aud went. The
gaze was transiixed. The spirit returned
to Him who gave II. Tenderly he closed
her eyelids, and witI breaking heart left
the body OF his beloved that II might be
made ready for burial.


1t was a great, great, change which her
death made in his home. He bore up un-
der II through the excitements OF the days
which Immediately followed the sad event,
and then, when the house was again quiet
and the old routine Of life was resumed,
gave way. The sense of loss was almost
greater than he could bear.


The "old routine" did say2 There was
little or none of the "old." 1t was all dread
fully new. The light was put out, and the
once bright and CHEEKY home was left in
darkness. Where was she who used 10
hang upon his neck when the hour Of
morning departure came, sending him
forth into the world with her sweet breath
of blessing2


Gone!


Where was she who watched for his com
ing step at nigbt and received him with an
embrace which was a refrsshment in itself,
brushing away with one touch as it were
all the encumbrance OF care and worry and
trial and disappointment with which The
day had encrusted him?


GOnel


How the word echoed through the silent
housei Gone, and nothing leil but the
memory Of her. Gone, not for a week, nor
month, nor for n year-what mercy 1t
would be if he could think of her return
ing in one year, or even in five years, or
ten I but no; gone forever. Gone, and all
opportunity OF love aud ministry at an end.


The house remsined7 Yes, and there
we've the pictures on the walls, and the
books in the BOOK cases, and the evening
paper, damp and fresh. The servants came
and went. The fire burned in the CRATE.
The clock licked on. The body Of the once
joyous lie was all here, but the soul was
out of ii. And what was the body OF that
life without its sOul1


Poor aching heartl Who could enter in
TO his sorrnwf Friends tried TO comfort
him, but there was little in their comfort.
They knew nothing about II. They bad
never been where he was; they could not
put themselves in his place. 1t was we'll
meant talk, but idlc-their words Of cOnso-
lalion. Oh il the old days could only come
back II he could only take her again, as
he had taken ber dczen years befuie, TO
love and 10 cherish, 10 walk with her once
moro over the Path they had trodden to-
gether II he might only make amends
where he bad fallen shoit, and call back
what had been tepented Of, and ut unsel-
tishness in the place OF seltishnoss, and pa
tience in place of reevishnoss, and thought
fulness in place Of lhouehtlessness I . II he
could only undo some things he had done,
and do some things he had left undonel


But no; she was gone.


And the cry burst from his lips: "Oh
God restore her to me if il be but for a
day."


"Here ap," said soft, clear voice be-
side him.


1t was her voice. lie awOke. II had
been all a terrible dresr.


"The Lord be prais, for Thai r.


"But suppose il had been ,rue?"


Aud lie sat thinking over the possibility.
Here she was, the loving and faithful and
noble wife, still his 10 love and cherish.
The amends he had dreamed Of making he
could now make; the things he had left
undone lie could now do. The lesson
which conscience had taught him by an
overwrought Imagination, he could now
apply thu ough the sober medium OF fact.
Aud he did. lie was better husband af-
Ter this-teLderer, gentler, more helpful,
forbearing, considerste and kind. The very
thought OF what might be, moved him with
a great power 10 improve what was.


Are there some homes where a little par
able like this may come with the force of a
mild warning? Are there some husbands,
in what il, has made tritie careless as TO
what may be? This sad word gone" is
being written over one door after another
along the way. Some day it will be writ
ten over yours. Perhap- your turn will
come next. If any tear Of trembling falls
upon this page as YOU read these words, let
it be a tear of contriIion for the past aud Of
promise for the future. While sic is yet
with you, be the husband you pledged
yourself 10 be, and even more. Have you
laid a tinger's weight OF sorrow on that
dear aud trusting heart? Before the sun
goes down, lit il of; and never lay such
there again. -Edpard abbott in C0ngre1d-
fio0nISf