HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance, 1905-12-21, Page 7*mop* oramosimmoommo****1•44.04
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Saved by a Christmas Dream
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It was late Christmas eve when my ' furniture, the silver plate, the gay
ball dress was sent home, and Marie, my equipage and the stately apartments,
daintyfingered French maid had finish- and amid it all through tate opened
ed briding my heavy black hair and door of a neglected nursery 'I saw a
adjusted my new headdress, an exquisite pale, drugged 4 year old child slowly
diamond bandeau. Nora brought up the dying. The end came. the tiny rose -
dress nicely'folded, and Marie sprang to wood casket was closed over the tea -
take it from its wrappings and lay it tures of the child who cried of motherly
out on they bed, neglect. I saw a strong man bend in
As Marne lifted the 'dress and shook convulsed grief over his dead boy and
its rich feeds a slip of paper fell to the then go out silently and, growing
carpet It: was madam's bill, and I was graver day by day, turn to his business
a little startled as my eye ran over it-- again. 1 heard frantic bursts of grief
$200, Brut then the trimmings, a rich from the stricken mother's mouth and
lace and cord d'or, were perfect. It clasped my jeweled hands in anguish.
was an expellee dress, but T didn't A lang pause fell between and then
think it would be quite that, and Mr, another, the last, picture, fell before me,
Cordon head said that money had been I recognized its faithfulness at • once.
getting 'tight for some time back. 1 Ten years intervened between this pic-
wouldnit show him the bill just yet, so tune and the preceding one. I had not
I thrust it into a drawer of my dresser charged save to fuller and perfected
and turned to Marie, who stood waiting beauty. Everything was as plain as
to dress me. day — tho magnificent furnishings of
I was contemplating my reflection in : the home, with Persian carpets, costly
the mirror with much complacency tables, bronze and marble statues and
when the door opened and Mr. Gordon china and silver wares, and through
came in. For a moment I was half ' these walls I moved, a cold and beauti-
ful woman- of ice.
I shrank from the portraiture with
dismay. But while I sat and gazed in
to the picture glided a pale, careworn
man wearing the same expression I
had often seen upon my husband's
face. How chimged he looked from the
hopeful, manly Charles Gordon who
had stood before me in the moonlight.
He had been a grave and silent man
ever since his boy died, but there was
now some fresh trouble eating away
his life.
"What has brought this about " I
asked. a
In a moment my question was answer-
ed. Into the magic picture came a shad-
owy finger which pointed to the paper
strewn table at which my husband at.
I gazed and beheld a revelation, and
mechanically any eye o ran overev
ery p
a-
per
he opened. The catalogue was fear-
ful—a long array of bills—plate, furni-
ture, statues, jewels, silks, a long array
, of which I recognized distinctly any own
agency, and balancinee this Catalogue
stood a tangled trade, empty coffers, with
the word "Panic!" written as with a pen
of fire. While he sat and unfolded each
paper and laid it aside I stole nearer
and gazed upon the one he hail just
taken. It was my latest bill for my
ball dress. I made a movement to
snatch it from him, and the spell was
broken.
"What is it, Daisy? You asleep here.
"Did I fall asleep? I must. But you
Charles, you have not slept!" I mid
for just then I noticed that he was in
his coat and full dress.
"I have been up late, looking over
some papers I brought from the store.
13ut I was just going up stairs. You
should be asleep before this," he added,
half reprovingly, his eye wanderirg
with a sort of pained look over my
toilet.
"Why do you not speak to me,
Charles? You are in some great trou-
ble. Olt, Charles, I have had a dream
this evening that has shown me my
self in my true light. I am nothing
more than nothing. I am a drag in-
stead of a helpmeet. Speak to me,
Charles, and tell me that you do not
hate me."
"Can you bear the worst, Daisy?" he
asked, hoarsely, lifting his eyes to
mine.
"A'nything, anything, my dear has -
band. I have been blind, but the scales
have fallen now. Tell mo everything.
Are w o ruined?"
"We are," ho whispered, in a thick,
unsteady tone. "The crisis has carried
mo down. I have dragged away the
long hours of this night trying to de-
vise some loophole of escape, but all in
vain. I do not care for myself, but for
you—you, Daisy,' and he groaned in
bitterness of spirit.
I could not bear it without a burst
of tears; ho so thoughtful, I so selfish,
I pressed my lips to his burning fore-
head and said, amid my sobs, "No,
Charles, not ruined, for we have saved
our love from the wreck."
Charles looked at me steadily, and a
weight seemed to have been lifted off
his head. His lips• lost their grim ex-
pression and there was a ripple of tears
in his voice.
"Daisy, you have saved me!" be said.
"Maddened by the thought of the mor-
row, I know not what the result miiht
have been this — see!" and he drew
forth a vial labeled: "laudanum" from
his vest pocket. "But you have saved
me, darling."
"Charles, we have both been mad!" 1
said, with pallid lips, and striving, for
bis sake, to subdue the terror that be-
girt my whole being when I realized
how nigh my husband had stood to the
wretched guilt of suicide. "And God
forgive me for my want of sympathy
in all your troubles and help me from
this hour to be your faithful wife."
And sitting there late in the night
any husband kneeling beside me and
with his head upon my lap, I bent my
cheek to his, and the tears, baptizing
our reunion, fell upon the folids of my
last folly—my ]call dress.—New Orleans
Times -Democrat.
frightened at his pale face and grave
air, but he said: "I only stopped for a
moment, Mrs. Gordon, to say that I
shall not be able to, join you at mad-
am's to -night. Briskness affairs will
keep me down town late."
Before I could tusk hien what he
thought of any dress he passed out of
the room, and presently L heard the
street door close. It wuss nothing new
for me to attend pn rties without the
escort of my husband, for somehow he
was always immersed in business; nei-
ther was it new for4Mr. Gorclon to look
grave or pale, for ha had lost his fresh
color these lateifs en .
Y
At length I was beady and was driv-
ing to the home of ?Sime. Stapleton.
One ball is so sq nilar to another in
the world of farhton that to recount
,eknow the hours p sled in madam's
drawing -rooms wo�ilel be to tax your
y
patience. Sufficient ,to say that it was
long after the midnight chimes had
rung I was handed ]from my carriage
to my own door; by the most distin-
guished gattlemaneof my set.
The atmosphere' in the 'dram -hie -room
was deliciously warmt in i contrast with
the temperature of. theshatlp December
night without. It)) was splessant to sit
there with my cdainty, dlippered, feet
over the register and: tfae waves of
! t T lustrous silk bathing thee carpet and
reflect that I swam sonithe topmost
wave of the sea of •fashicen in the city
around me, and the 'Chrestrnas chimes
ringing out from theschureh towers and
the warm air stealing up (from the reg-•
ister soothed my sense& to delicious
calmness.
Suddenly, while I sat thlinking, from 1
the dim corners of the drawing -room
seemed to glide out a train. of figures,
each dressed in unfashionable gar -
I O „NI ments of bygone days, and( yet, strange
•g
to say, each garment wag recognized
by me as something :that I had worn '
in those days, and in thee face of each
figure turned towarditme I beheld. any
I ( own. The figures graded around me,
f then seated thernselveslon the opposite
t / + side of the apartment, /each looking at
nie steadily and with tiny own dark
eyes. Gradually the figure nearest my
right seemed to invest /itself with the
accessories of a picture, and a thin
mist hid the others from my sight.
A child of ten summers stood in the
yard of an old brown farmhouse, with
the westering ]igho of the sunset
streaming over the building and bath-
ing her tiny fingers'in a flood of gold.
I did not speak even in a, whisper
while tho picture of my entire child-
hood was unrolled' before, me, but
, le see thoughts like these (giided..'athwart my
I ) # .• brain. ' ita'T once'}that/happy heart-
ed, wild, romping 'child whose great-
! ,,; est care was to p1:.sse,her parents and
whose greatest grief the, lose of some
woodland pet?"
Evenwhile I sat, gazing Ithc scene
slowly faded, and out froms the slim
mists that hadiaunfolded.the elegize near-
est the child rose fair and (clear the
second picture before (me. 11
A slender beautiful/ maiden\ stood in
the moonlight beneaalc the nrweeti& porch.
draped with honey?ucklcs that climbed
over the farmhoussa door. It was Daisy,
but a child no lcynger. She word a neat
but simple drese pf pale pink onuslin,
and a single wi3ite rose plucked from
the bush beside sthe doorstep adorned
her hair. Suiddenl a firm step came up
the walk leading o the farmhouse. It
was a young and frank faced man who
•
joined her, nnd,Dhisy blushed and they.
went in and sat, down together in the
moonlight by (the west room window.
Eloquence was not necessary to love in
those days and Daisy "aud Charles Gor-
don sat long in the tno)onlight and talk-
ed together. Charles I always thought
ho must leave4at 0, butt he is in no hast
to -night. Ten„ half past 10, 11 goes by
and there they +stand /in the moonlight.
When they part a teneler kiss burns on
Daisy's cheeks and a. ,)slender gold ring
gleams on her finger. ; She and Charles
are betrothed, and ¶she goes to her
chamber to sleep the\ first dream of
happy blighted love.
For a moment I stret hi out my hand
toward the maiden in tho farmhouse,
hurt the scene grows dirt, the figure
fado and anotrer picture ]unfolds be-
fore my view.
It was a bridal seen. CChar!es has
I J„ �• grown more grave looking, ' for ho was
a business man now, . and .three years
]tad added luster to Daisy's fuller fig- !
ure. Both Were trusting land beloved
end saw none but clouds of, gold in the
twig vista of their future.
I could only sit and gaze longinlyly
and eagerly' while the phantom faded
away from my gaze. Another picture
now rose before me,
1 I saw myself clad in a cheerful =rais-
ins; robe. Charles had prospered in
business, gold poured into his coffers
and with gold came fashion, with am-
bition and pride and a score of demons
in Icer train. It eehispereSlt
"You are young and you aro beauti-
ful. Iu the great world you would bo
• an acknowledged queen, Put your
. a husbands wealth to use. Let not your
beauty fade out in the nursery. Your
child will .get on well enough in the
1 nurse's care. Live in the world and
se a
!:shine like queen."
And this was the beginhni„ of the
shadow ivltieh darkened the picture. L
saw the glitter of the bell, the splendid
!••
!r
Christmas To -night.
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to -night!
Christmas in lands of the fir -true and pine.
Christmas is lands of the palm -,tree and
vino.
Christmas where snow -peaks stand solemn
and white,
Christmas where cornfields lie sunny and
bright!
•
Christmas where children are hopeful and
gay,
Christmas where old men are patient and
gray,
Christmas where peace, like a dove in his
flight,
Broods o'er bravo area in the thick of the
fight;
Everywhere, everywhere, to -night.
b'or the Christ-bhild who combs is the Mass
ter of all;
No palace too great and no cottage too
small.
Tho angels who welcome bit sing from the
height
In the "City of Itavtd" a king in his might;
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-
night.
Then let every heart keep its Christmas
within.
Christ's pity for sorrow, Christ's hatred of
sin,
Christ's caro for the weakest, Christ's coin -
ago for right,
Christ's dread of the darkness Christ's levo
of tho light; °
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-
\a
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e, 4.4.4-4.-e+++++++4,444,444-4,4 gee-ee+• 4.4* -4.4.1 o ' >+4,'f►t`b
1
IITSS
BY MRS. EDMUND GORSE
(Author of "The Pleasures of Ignorance,' Etc.)
In Black and White.
1"1i.'R all, what is happiness? There is apt to be
a strange haziness in the minds of many people
when this question is presented to them.
A small boy, whipping at his top on a London
r passer-by:
elderly as
pavement, was asked by a sedate, 1 y p Y
"Are you happy?" The boy flicked at his top two
I or three times; then, turning up a puzzled. and
° solemn face to his interlocutor, he demanded:
"Which happy?" Those two words are the nutshell that contains the
elusive kernel called happiness. That is exactly what we all of us want
to know: what it is that we mean by happiness? as well as which kind
of happiness it is that each one of us individually most wishes to possess?
Happiness is like the Will -o' -the -Wisp (that looking -glass flash) of
Tinkabell in Peter Pan. It is here we see it dancing around us; we
reach out a hand to grasp it; it evades us, It is gone—like love through
the window at the entrance of poverty by the door—it has flown off far
away; now we see it out yonder, skipping about with the flickering
bu'terflies and the booming bees among the herbaceous borders of the
flower garuen. We pursue it, and it twinkles its little lamp at us from
above, or it twinkles its little bell at us from below; bright oyes seem
to blink and wink at us out of the shadows of the surrounding boseage.
And then it is gone and nothing remains of it—but still, we say to our-
selves: "It has been."
WHAT IS HAPPINESS?
Some people exclaim shortly "Happiness?"—why, it's the state of your
liver!" Others, that "it's having your own way," while a few persons
(but these are obviously too illogical to be worthy of consideration) say
that true happiness consists in letting other people have their own way!
While one man remarks that his idea of happiness is to find himself
deposited by his car at the destined end of the route planned out, another
will affirm that he expects to find happiness in the silence of a hushed
life, in a magical, sparsely -fed apartness from the world and all its divers
excitements. And yet a third man will declare that it is folly to wish
anyone happiness—which does not exist; he, indeed, is said, in presenting
a wedding gift, to have wished the bride courage only.
There are many people who seek happiness in travel; but, in spite of
passing rapidly from place to place, ever in hot pursuit; it would seem as
though they were never able to overtake their quarry. While ever
endeavoring to gain on the heels of it, they mistake the excitement of
haste and of change, ani] the sensations produced by superficial observa-
tion, for the true goal of happiness.
The man with a grievance is surely one of the happiest of mankind.
Ho so enjoys to grumble—and he never finds himself at a loss Yor a
subject, for has he not made it the cult of a lifetime To.,settle himself
into a well -padded armchair, before a blazing wood fire, and just to
grumble away to his Heart's content! It is truly surprising how wide a
range of topics he is able to cover during the course of a single evening;
and with such entire satisfaction to himself! It takes a pretty turn, this
cult of the grumbler, when carried on across the polished surface of a
well -spread mahogany (the decanter passing gaily from hand to hand),
while the grumbler descants eloquentlly on the ill -doings and mismanage-
ments of the entire civilized world—to the accompaniment of the gay
cracking of- the cheerful nut!
HAPPINESS OF EVERY DAY.
There are all kinds of happiness, the short ones as well as the long.
One of the shortest is the pleasure of catching a tr•a.in=after a brisk run
for it. To drive a good bargain seems to produce in some natures a
sensation of satisfaction that is almost akin to happiness. There is, for
some, a feeling of pleasant superiority in being the successful bidder,
where the hammer quickly raps out the answer to the nod at an auction,
causing them to say they feel thoroughly happy. Then there is the
farmer's joy at having a better crop of turnips than any of his neighbors.
The brief smile of "So happy to have met you!" There are even more
sanguine persons who -affirm that they can be happy though at sea—show-
ing that there still exist patient natures, whom nothing will daunt. Sneh
people must be •akin't'o the stuff of which the early saints were made—
those exalted spirits who delighted in hot ploughshares,, and revelled in
starvation! Certain folk go through life in a strange state of discontent,
they always imagine themselves to be, as it were, in the (wrong box—
believing that happiness could have been theirs if only such and such a
thing had happened differently yesterday; an uncomfortable sorb of
thimbier-ring view of life. This state calls up it vision of the figure we
must all of us have met with in our journeyings—the travelling visionary
and his tiresome matchbox, which, whenever it was wanted, was invariably
found to have been left at home in the pocket of the other coat!
Of all the passive and active kinds of happiness, one of the most
obvious ilhistrations can be found in the way in which some men will find +'
comfortable satisfaction by sitting in the shade, on a hot summer's day,
and in watching other fellows, in the full glare of a scorching sun, rushing
wildly about in the heat of a contention over some field sport And, at the
same time, those other heated men, who are rushing about, are also most
keenly happy.
�Y•
Ys
M
THE MOODS OF HAPPINESS.
Ilappiness is not unlike a verb; it may be active or passive—it is very
often irregular! It hats its tenses and its moods—that tiresome, and even
exasperating, conditional mood, and the ever insistent imperative ease t
There aro many persons who seem not to be conscious of having ever
possessed the present tense of happiness at all; with then). it has always
been either (with a sigh) the past, or else (with feverish impatient* the
future. On propounding this view to 'a young girl, she laughed gaily, and
exclaimed: "What, a droll idea, that is of yours] Why, I laugh still when
I remember how perfectly happy I imagined myself to be, ever to long
ago (�svlren 1 was still quite young) -rand when I little dreamed how really
happy I sltouhl be nowt"
So that, after all, there seems to be no theory about happiness which
will suit all minds. Can it be that happiness is an idea only? That each
mince forms for itself an idea, after which it is ever striving; so that there t
is in reality no such thing as ltappittess----that happiness does not exist? ,
Anel yet that suggestion will not piease nor will it convince anyonegerm es
s
long as the gerof happiness remains planted in the mind of every child.
It becomes very much a case of personality and of temperament.; of will-
power and ofY belief. To believe ourselves happy, is to find ourselves
lread well on the high -road that lends to the sunny land of Happiness.
O+41,01,44+•44441.4640 -4++++++++++14444,444.4101.4+++++•-+++'!'s r+k r"
Their happy Christmas Day.
•-+-1 r i 1 1 1 1
Over against a, snowy hillside a little, . "Olt, I will explain all to her when we
low farttrltouse nestled snugly, nearly, return. She will understand, and for -
surrounded by pines, firs and hemlocks, be latee+ Now, Tom, hurry, do, or well
on wires) dark branches gleamed sparkles Be laughed good•humoredly, and want
of freshly fallen snow, off to snake arrangements.
A road passed the house and went nHow it snows," she said later to her
stretching and winding away over the husband, as the train carried them rapid -
hills, ly onward. "It will be all over the hills
A man came to the door and stood and drifted round the house tdf- orrow,
wearily looking out. ife was bent and and the old evergreens
worn, but more by his hard fight to earn dressed in whit) to celebr
a livelihood than by sage. Christmas of the+ecntury"
"We're going to have more snow to- a ;Y *
nig Y by "Father, g
4 be all
‘,1; the last
z4`°,
.s:
ht. The maids ani be blocked to «.a iter then) sleigh
tis have stop -
morrow," he eaid to someone within. ped here!" said. Mrs. Lennox, excitedly,
A prim little woman, with a faded ,looking through a small opening on the
shawl over Iter head, came to the door frost -painted glass.
and stood by his side, peering,out into "It's a sleigh from Craigsville, father.
the deepening shadows of that wintry Oh; father, it's Maggie."
afternoon. Mrs. Tom Meredith stood in the door -
She, too, was furrowed and bent. flak- way with sparkles of snow all over her,
ing a living out of this hilly farm land while her blue eyes shone with joyous
had not been easy, but her gentle, uncoil). -radiance, then dimmed perceptibly when
plaining face showed that she had been she saw the look on the faces before her.
a patient, loving helpmate. she
you darlings, you did want me,
"We may have a storm. Tho clouds and I wanted you," she said, tearfully, as
are dark and heavy, while the wind 15 she hugged and kissed first one and then
rising." She sighed, and event on witha mournful voice, "It the other.
won't matteruaver muchltoher us,father far "1 guess your good things will not
spoil now, mother, said the father
we'll have no visitors to -marrow. This humorously.
will be the first Christmas for years.that Mrs. Lennox looked doubtfully at her
we have spent alone. But come in by daughter's rich dress..as the wrap fell
ilio fire. The wind blows through arcs, from her shoulders.
and the draught will be bad. for your Somehow the old rag cerpeted floor
rheumatism" cheaply papered walls were a poor back -
He closed the door and they sat down! ground for such a richt setting.
by the stove. The tabby cat purred on eer daughter saw and understood the
her mat before the fire, while the tea glance, and slipped quietly away up -
kettle hummed its cheery song. stairs.
But something was missing, and the "Mother and me were just hankerin'
wife's words showed where the.thoughts to see Maggie," she heard her father say
of both were.
"I did some fixin', father. I could not red English did not grate on her as it
help it. It would not emit right ito her husband, and somehow the incor-
If we
did not have something extra for Cheese, -used to do. Now it geemed like a strain
of richest music in unison with the joy
mas, so I made a cake some days ago, that was in her heart:
and a pudding, pies and doughnuts to- She hummed a gay snatch of song as
it seems
too butsoon
turkey,n
Ina ediand day.v ,ue dress
shedonned her old bl
,
foolish to prepare a Christmas dinner a rosy, laughing, blue-eyed girl came de -
for ,ourselves alone. I am homesick to murely into the kitchen.
see Maggie to -night. I was tidying her Her father's deep voice rang with de
foam to clay. Her blue dress still hangs light as he said to his wife:
there. I would give a good bit to see. "Now, mother, are you ,atiafied?
Suer in it again. I wonder what she s Here's the sight you've been longing
doing. I suppose she will have her bus- for"
band's folks for dinner to -morrow. I When they were alone together in the
hope site man aged well with her cook- little spare room that Christmas night,
ing. She never eared much for doing it Mrs. Meredith asked her husband "Tom,
when she was at home, though she was dear,what did you think of me last
real smart at other things." nighimpul,sive hurryingways" yu off in such a wild,
She stopped and brushed the tear-
drops from her furrowed cheeks. Before he could reply she smiled at
The husband replied cheerily, hoping the remembrance of it, and said softly:
to dispel his wife's sadness: "I could not help it, Tom. I had to
"Yes, Maggie was a good, smart girl, see them, and I am so glad we came."
and a beauty besides. She has a kind "So am I, Maggie. - It has been a very
heart, too, but I hope the wealth her happy Christmas day, and I would not
husband has will not spoil our little girl. have missed seeing the joy in your
I would like to see her, too, but we can mother's face for anything," he aarswered
hardly expect her to come away up here tenderly.
the first Christmas site is married" s - e
"Don't worry, mother. We have still THE NORTHERN CROSS...
each other, and, please God, we may be
spared together for many Christmas A Beautiful Constellation of the Early
Days yet. I'll go out now and do my Winter.
chores. It will be dark early to -night.
sure
Bells g
Eh, listen! What's that? , Orion kneeling mitis starryniche
enough. They've stopped here. I'll go The Lyre whose strings give mic and -
out and see who it is. Don't you come, ible
it's too cold" To holy ears, and countless; splendors
Mr. Lennox returned in a few moments more,
carrying a large box. He trampecl the Crowned by the blazing Cross high -hung
snow from his feet, saying: o'er all.
"Jack Newton brought this from town.
It's from Maggie, 1 guess. I suppose we As the magnificenee of Orion lends
may as well open it, and see what she glory to ilio Christmas sky in the
has sent us. She's thinking about us, souhlteast, in the northwest the North -
at any rate."
He deposited the box on the floor, and ern Cross is on the eve of vanishing for
opened it with careful deliberation, then a season. At its best, this figure of
assisted his wife to unpack it. Her rare simplicity is the most satisfying of
fingers trembled as she lifted the articles y our winter sky, although it is
from the box, and at length she stopped
and said pitifully, "What will I do to- 'el a rather subdued brilliance. Five prin-
morrorw, father, with all I have baked, cipal stars form the long Boman cross,
and Maggie not here to share it? It was and at 7 o'clock as base glimmers along
kind and thoughtful for her to send the •tree s. It is of pleasing sinirifi-
these things, but somehow they seem sauce tht z so splendid an image of the
meant to take her place."crucifix should attain, its finest position
"Tlicy do. That's a fact," he answer just at the period when the birth of the
ed feelingly. "I think we'll just put•Christ-child as celebsatecl. The remark -
them away for a spell. I feel disap- able splendor of that ritiori at the
pointed like, for I half hoped they'd Milky Way against which it shines en -
come. But, then, we can't expect to have hances the beauty of the CYtos,.and on ex -
her with us the same as before she was ceptional]•y clear alights, one who ?)oleo
married" through a field -glass can but feel ewe -
He walked heavily, to the window and struck and delighted at seeing- the an r
looped out into the mist of whirling fads of suns sparkling about its lower
snow, and stealthily brushed away some half. Arided, the topmost, brightesb
tears with his hard, rough hand. star points to Cafisiopeia—slab in the
In the dim light of that little room Milky Way—and the dimmer brilliant at
the mother sat with her head resting on the foot—Ellbireo—is known among as-
h'er thin, withered hand while the tears
dropped slowly over her furrowed cheeks, tro elf ria as a "lovely tele3ceppic object,"
unmindful of the Christmas plenty which m ay be divider into a !friendly pair
of (suns, the one cold and the other azure
around her.
* ° ,, * * * Below the left arm of the cross 15
Airs. Tom Meredith stood idly looking Lyra, the lyre of musiceovring Orpheus,
through the window of lieu beautiful with its wonderful blue diaanond Vega.
home, waiting for her husband's return. Prof. Newcomb says that it is to\vane
As she warted, she thought of the this jewel of the night that our modest
great joy and happiness that Lad come
little system of worlds.as ,tending, at the
into her life.. Six months ago she had
frightful speed of ten miles each second.
been shard -worked country school tea- To our limited vision this is a glorious
cher, but her beauty and goodness had goal of light, but since the journey has
won the heart of the rich 'tofu Mere already lasted longer than time, we need
clith, trot apprehend too early a completion of
Tho thought of her great, unlooke.d-for our voyage, scientifically. \iega„far out -
happiness curved lieu red lips with a shines any star in the Cross, yet there is
smile and dimpled her flushed cheeps, an indescribable radiant loveliness cloth -
but all at once the smile faded, and a ing the ]atter majestic figure. Su pure,
wistful expression crept over her fair so holy an atmosphere seems to illume
face and ]eft testa in her eyes.its outspread arms titta it suggests the
An old man and woman had slowly Sir Galahad of constellations, and iris
passed the window. They, of all the "Pure spaces clothed in living beam's."
passing crowd, arrested her attention, A friendship, loyal and deiroted, is
for slue saw in them a dim likeness to commemorated in the mythical title of
the old couple who were all alone in the this constellation—Cygnus the Swats.
the
of Mars
little farmhouse among the hills. A viv. Cygmis was the sort and
id picture of their loneliness carne up friend of Phaeton. Phaeton is familiarly
before her, and her tears fell faster and known as the son of Apollo and the hero
faster. of one mad, ambitions career acres the
"What, crying, little woman!" was h'er heavens in the chariot of the sun. When
husband's surprised greeting a few min- the consequent sufferings of heavens and
Utes later. "I dict not thiel: you had earth had been relieved by its fatal ter -
anything to grieve you," mination, for Phaeton, in the River Eri-
"Oh, Tom, I am so glad you have dorms, Cygnus could not control his grief,
come," she said excitedly, while the tears but repeatedly dived into the river and
glistened in her eyes. "We must spend brought to the surface relics of his de -
Christmas at Craigsville With father and parted commie. At Inst the ;ods grew
another. We can leave in half an hour impatient at .his continued lamentations,
and be there early in the morning." as lesser beings still do with those who
"Why, Maggie, it is impossible to go keep their woes too persistently before
at such short notice. I am in my best- the public, and .lnpiter transformed Hint
nese clothes, while you have evening into a swan and raised hint to a lofty
dress on." place in the skies. It is of the few
"Put on your other overcoat, Tom, brighter stars of ('mitts thea the 'North -
and I'll wear my Tong eape. We can ern (`rosy ns outlined. The head of (No -
have our other clothes sent after us. )sus is at the foot of the Cross, as the
Don't say 'No,' 'l`ont. I must, I really swan flies headlong down the Milky
must, go horse, for I have never spent a Way. Por this reason old astronomers
Christmas away from them yet." knew it as "The Palling Bird," while
"But, my dear, why didn't you tell nae Lyra, havitur been formerly pietured as
before? What client our ;,grand dinner held in the beak of the bird, was referred
at Sister Kate's to -morrow?" he asked, to by then: as "The Rising Bird "----Rlizs-
solicitously, beth Nunemacher, in hiving Church.
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