Year: 1873

a Life SkEVCH,


taking for his wife the beautiful Mary Ora


ham.
lie had been wait ing until he might com


mence the new life fairly and independently


and when he said Independently, he mean
| he would not be dependent on others for ,


home. f1'-.
| Allen did not hope to be independent of toi
or fatigue; but he had planned that he and hi.
pretty Mary would work together and, perhap
IN the coming years and competence upor
which to enjoy healthfil repose. Allen Moore
was lawyer with fair practice, and with q
docket growing larger and larger with each sue
| ceeding term; and he had not promised himself
| that VIXEN Mary had become his wife she
would delye for him into the mysteries eff law.
or do the drudgery of copying; but he looked
Tor sympathy and love--for love that should
make his labors light, and for sympathy
upon which lie could rest his confidence.
Allen Moore had known that Mary had her
faults; but he had also known that her heart
was good and true, and in his great love he
iouhd the assurance of peace and Joy. But a
season Of disappointment was yet to come.


Iley hed been married three years, and n
cloud was upon the household. And whose
was the fault?


Allen examined himself very closely, but he
could not discover that he had done wrong
Ana yet Mary was neither happy herself, nor
uiu she try even to make him ANYWAYS han
py.


His business had increased until he had as
much on his hands as he could possibly attend
to; he labored early and late he toiled without
ceasiEg, but the sympathy which he had ex
pected at home was not his


The result was that he often wore a cloud
upon his brow. Expecting coldness when he
entered his home, he came with compressed Inns.
and fearing that he should find no sympathy.
he did not seek it.


Allen Moore wondered! Had he been mistak-
en- IN his estimate Of Mary?-hal he given her
credit Tor good which she did not possess? Ger
tanly there was little of the good now to bless
him, but evil continually. In short, his home
was very far from being happy one, and open
rupture was frequent. Mary had become treiful
anu FAULT finding, and, Instead of sympathzing
WIN her husband in his engrossng and of
times perplexing business, she would not per-
init him to mention his business in the
house.


DIR. Ralph Graham, Mary's uncle, had wit
messed the gathering cloud, and had marked
the progress of TIE deepening gloom.


lie had known both the husband and wife
from their infancy, and lie loved them both,
and When he saw them thus unhappy lie said
he would certainly help them He knew that
tho greater fault was Mary's and he knew. too
heart. ~


Uncle Ralph, what do you really think of
Allenf


DIR. Graham had called in, ostensibly for the
purpose of leaving some medicine for the hus-
band, but he had taken a seat, and opened
conversation with his niece.


MARY, do you want me to tell You the truth?'
He spoke very solemny, and with grave
look.


'rhe truth, uncle % she repeated with a start
led expression.


you do not think that there il ANYTHING sc-
rious?'


'What can be more serious than disease of
the heart?'


But Allen has no such thing


My dear girl you must not deceive yourself


you may not keep Allen long with you.-
Excessive labor-ambition 10 achieve great re.
suts-and want cfhealthful recreation lave
strained his heart more than il will bear. |
dying ' -


'Dying.'


fes-surolyl It Is but question of time
we may save him toprolonged and useful life.
Ii we can remove the cause Of his dreadful dis.
ease.


Have you not observed how thin and pale he
mas grown and have you not remarked how
frequently the pain comes to his heart ? Alas
poor Allen. dare not tell him how near he is
to the brink.


spoke with him once-a few DAYS aro-
upon the subject. | told him l thought there
was DANGER
You told him. And, pray, how did it effect
hmP'


He only smiled, aud shook his head


Smiled T.


Yes; but with tears In his eyes. lie said ii !
he could only leave his wife and child well and |
comfortably provided for, he should be willing |
to go.
That was when he had that great pain in his |
heart


Mary arose and placed her hand upon the !
doctors shoulder.
ly? ''' ~ =" VII ''' ''"-


Il only tell you what fear. my child. tell |
you what is possible; aye. what is inevitable
sooner or later, it Alien does not find help.-l
Bnt do not tell him what have told 10 you.-
II might break him down at once. We must |
Keep him with Us while We can. lie must not
fail and die now, In the noontde OF life, il NOR
tai power can save him. But, my little girl,
you must be prepared The blow may fall at
any time. These heart troubles are most
treacherous. 1t is for you to make his pillow
smooth, and give him comfort Tor the few short |
days


'Oh, uncle! do not say so; my soul! Allen /
must not die. Better a thousand times that |
should go, and leave him to live his bright and i
useful life.'


DIR. Graham drew his weeping niece To his
bosom, and gently whispered


Stay with him, Mary, and give him hope,
strength and courage. While | give linn such |
medicines as have to give he it yours my |
dear child, to draw him away from his labors |
when you can, and make his burdens light !
Let us do this, and lsaye the rest with God |
After her uncle had gone, Mary went about the |
house like one awakened from troubled dream |
gathering up the threads OF the past, and {
weaving them into the woof If tEe present i
the old love burned up, and how dear TO her
were the memories Of the brighter times.


Her husband dying! Oh, it could not be 1t
ehn ho