6 AN EVENING PRAYER. 4Llf«'s opening voyage, Lord, Thou dtdst safely keep O'er childhood's sheltered bays; ■At- now the tides of age around me creep, l'rotcct my shortening days. JThou didst defend my youth when sped my bark Out toward the open sea; A* I approach tho shore, unknown and dark. Still guard and care for me. Becalmed by Idle winds on placid soa«. Thy vigil did not cease; Maw tempests beat, and when I shrink from these. Impart uplifting peace. "When Joy, bright-winged, poised lightly on the prow Thou gently didst restrain; Though Sorrow often voyages with me now, My troubled soul sustain. "When many ships were nigh and skies were bright, I knew Thy presence sweet; As one by one they vanish In the night, Draw near me, I entreat. Xord, Thou hast been companion, friend and guide O'er life's unresting sea: When Death, the gmtle rilot, stands be side, Oh, make the port with me! —Francis E. Pope, in Boston Evening Transcript. I BORN TO SERVE By Charles M. Sheldon, Author of"IN HIS STEPS," "JOHN KING'S QUESTION CLASS," "EDWARD BLAKE, ■' Etc. (Copyright, I'JUO, by Charles M. Shuldou.) CHAPTER 11T. SERVICE IS ROYAL. The Ward pew in the -Marble Square church was about half way down the eisle and in the body of the house. As Barbara walked down the aisle she was conscious of a feeling of excitement hardly warranted by the event. As «,he passed into the pew first, leading Carl after her, as the arrangement of seating had been planned by Mrs. Ward, she noticed Mrs. Ward's face. It was very grave, and there was again present in it that uncertain element ■which had set Barbara to guessing •once or twice how far her mistress ■would venture to cooperate with her in the matter of solving the questions •belonging to housekeeping. But Barbara was a young woman -with a good reserve of common sense, and she at once dismissed all foolish speculations and resolutely gave her thoughts to the service of the hour. She was naturally and healthily reli .gious and was prepared to enter into the worship with 110 other thought ex cept her need of communion and devo tion and reception of truth. When the minister came out of his ■study room into the pulpit Barbara no ticed a look of surprise on several faces near her. She heard the lady in the pew next to her say in a whisper to another: "Where is Dr. Law to day?" "He is in Carlton. This must be Mor ton, their new minister." "He looks very young. Do you sup pose he can preach any?" Barbara did not hear the answer, but she had not been able to avoid making a comment to herself on the youthful appearance of the minister. But when he began the service by giving out the first hymn the impression of extreme youthfulness disappeared, lie had a good voice and a quiet, modest, rever ent manner that Barbara liked. Ilis prayer helped her. And when he began to preach there was a simplicity and •earnestness about his delivery that was very attractive. He did not try to say too much. The sermon was written, but the reader had evidently ied to avoid being so closely confined "to the pages as to lose a certain neces sary sympathy with his hearers which the use of the eye alone can secure. Barbara was really interested in the entire sermon, and as a whole it helped her. Iler happily trained religious na ture had taught her to look with hor ror upon the common habit of criti cism and comparison when attending a church service. The main object of going to church was to get help to be a better Christian, she had often said In little debates over such subjects while in college. If the sermon was learned and eloquent and interesting as well as helpful, so much the better, But, if it had every quality except helpfulness, it missed the mark. To be able to say after hearing a sermon: "That has helped me to be a better per son this week," is really the same thing as declaring that the sermon was a good sermon. Anything that helps life is great. All sermons that give cour age or peace or joy, or inspire to greater love to God and neighbor, are great sermons. So Barbara was lifted up by the message of the morning; and when the service was closing, during the hush that succeeded the benediction, as the congregation remained seated for a moment, she uttered a prayer of thanksgiving and a prayer of peti tion for patience and wisdom in the life she had chosen, much blessed and comforted by the service of the uiorn ing. As Barbara came out into the aisle again, Mrs. Ward was standing near the end of the pew opposite. She ■beckoned to Barbara. "I want to introduce Miss Clark to you, Mrs. Vane." An elderly woman with very keen blue eyes, and the sharpest look out of them that Barbara had even seen, epoke to her abruptly but kindly as •the came up, Carl still clinging to her, "Very glad to see you, Miss Clark. You must come in and see us some •■afternoon or evening. O, I know who 7°u are, just a servant; and we are rich, aristocratic folks and all that. My grandfather was a blacksmith in ■Connecticut. His ancestors were from Vanes of Arlie in Scotland. Good, honest, working people as far as 1 can ascertain. I want you to meet Mins Barnes, who is helping us at present." She Introduced the young woman who was standing behind her, and Barbara somewhat shyly shook hands with a heavy-faced girl, who, how ever, smiled a little. Barbara was astonished at Mrs. Vane, and instant ly concluded that she was a character in the Marble Square church and iu Crawford, as indeed she was. "My father and Mr. Vane were in college together," Barbara said, as they moved down the aisle. "Are you sure?" The sharp eyes seemed to look j.arbara through. "Yes, ma'am. I have heard father speak often of Thomas Vane. Before he mentioned the fact of your living in Crawford." "Mr. Vane would be glad to sec your father again. Ask him to call." "Father died last winter," Bar bara answered in a low voice. The tragedy of that business failure and sudden shock which resulted in her father's death was too recent to be spoken of without deep feeling. "Dear me! It is strange Thomas never told me. Perhaps he did not hear of it. Is your mother living?" "Yes." Barbara told her the street. "She must come and see me after I have called. She is alone, you say?" And again the sharp eyes pierced Bar bara. They had reached the door and Mrs Vane tapped Mrs. Ward on the shoulder. "Mrs. Ward, you see that Miss Clark comes to see me. 1 want a long talk with her. Don't be alraid, my dear. I don't want to know any more than you are willing to tell me. But I'm interested in you, and perhaps I can do something to help." She hurried out, leaving Barbara in some uncertainty as to what kind of help she meant. Would this woman of wealth and social position help her in her plans for solving the serv ant-girl problem? The Wards were still standing near the door, and Car! was pulling Bar bara's dress and crying to her to hurry home for dinner, when the young minister came up and shook hands heartily with Mrs. Ward. At the close of the service he had come down from the pulpit and had gone through one of the side doors lead ing into the church vestibule. lie had been talking with some of the people out there, but the minute Mr. Ward appeared he came over and greeted him. "Very glad to see you and hear you, Morton, I'm sure," Mr. Ward was say ing as Barbara came into the vesti bule. "Been some time since you and Alfred came into see us together." "Yes, I've been too busy since I left the seminary with the work in Carl ton. How is Alfred?" "O' he's quite well," Mrs. Ward an swered, as Morton looked art her. "We pxpected him home a month ago, but he had to give up coming at the last "I WANT TO INTRODUCE MISS CLARK." minute on account some society doings. But—" by this time Carl had dragged Barbara out past Mrs. Ward —"allow me to introduce Miss Clark, who is—" Barbara looked at her quiet ly, and she continued, "who is working for us at present." Mr. Morton bowed and shook hands with Barbara, saying as he did so: "I'm very glad to meet you, Miss Clark." And Barbara, listening and looking with sensitiveness to detect a spirit either of patronizing or of indiffer ence, could not detect either. lie spoke and looked as any gentleman might have spoken and looked at any young woman who was his equal in society. "Won't you come home to dinner with us, Morton?" said Mrs. Ward, heartily. "I'm stopping at the hotel; I think I had better not come to-day." "Well, when do you go back to Carlton?" "To-morrow at two." "Well, then, come to lunch to-mor row noon." "I shall be glad to, thank you," he said, and he bowed pleasantly to them all as he passed over to the other end of the vestibule to speak to some one else. "Mr. Morton was a senior in college when Alfred entered," Mrs. Ward ex plained to Barbara, as they walked out of the church. "He had an oppor tunity to do Alfred a great kindness, and our boy never forgot it. He used to come home with him quite often during the lust term Mr. Morton was at college before he entered the sem inary." "He's a very promising young man," said Mr. Ward, positively. "I like his preaching. It's sensible and straight." "And interesting, too," Mrs. Ward added, her heart warming to the young inan who had befriended her son. Just how much Italph Morton had helped Alfred Ward not even the mother ever knew. But it was during a crisis in CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1901. his young life, and the brave, simple nature of Morton had pone out to tl.« i young fellow in his trouble very much i iike a rescue. Hut men do not rear | monuments to this sort of heroism. Barbara walked on in silence, but in i her heart she also had a feeling of gratitude for the young preacher ; whose courteous greeting no less than i his helpful sermon had given her cour age. At the same time, she was con scious of a little whisper in her mind which said: "Nevertheless, Barbara Clark, in the very nature of the case you are not privileged to move in the society of young men like Mr. Morton, as long as you are a servant. You may be college bred, and you may be as re fined and intelligent as he is; but Tie could never look on you as an equal. His courtesy was paid to you as a min ister would be courteous to any wom an, but not as an equal in any sense. You never could expect to sit down and talk together, you never could an ticipate the enjoyment of his com pany or —or —expect that he could ever call to see you as —as he might call to see—" Barbara colored deeply as she al lowed the whisper to die away in uncompleted fragments of imagina tion. She was the last girl in the world to have foolish, romantic , dreams of young men. She had never j had a lover. No one had ever made ! her think of any such possibility. She j was singularly free from any silly I sentiment such its girls of her age : sometimes allow to spoil the fresh- i ness and strength of a womanly j heart. But she was romantic in many | ways; and, being a woman and not j an angel or a statue, she had thought I at times of some brave, helpful, j strong life that might become a part | of hers. The world-old cry of the i heart for companionship, the hunger, j God-given to men and women, was ! not unknown to Barbara within the j last year or two when she had be gun to blossom into womanhood. The j thought that her choice of a career j in service had put her outside the j pale of a common humanity's loving smote her with another pang as she walked along. It seemed that tljfre were depths and heights to this serv ant-girl problem that she was con stantly discovering, into which she might never descend, and out to which she might never climb. Carl awoke her from her thoughts by dragging at her dress, and saying: "Come, Barbara, let's hurry. I'm hungry. Let's hurry now and get dinner." Barbara looked at Mrs. Ward. "Yes, goon with him if you want to. Lewis will be impatient. He ran on ahead before his father could stop him. I don't feel well enough to walk faster." So Barbara hurried on with Carl and as she pasesd several groups of churchgoers she was conscious that she herself was the object of con versation. She could not hear very well, but caught fragments of sen tences, some spoken before, some after, she had passed different peo ple. "A freak of Mrs. Ward's—" "Mrs. Vane's queer ideas—" "Perfectly ab surd to try to equalize up—" "Girls have no right to demand —" "Ought to know their places—" "No way to help solve the trouble," etc., were remarks by the different members of Marble Square church that set Bar bara's pulses beating and colored her cheek with anger. "You hurt me, Barbara" exclaimed Carl as Barbara unconsciously gripped his little hand. "O dearie, lam so sorry. I didn't mean to." In an instant she was calm again. What! Barbara Clark! You have not endured anything to-day! She had not anticipated anything be fore going to church. She had sim ply made up her mind to take what came and abide by it. What had actually happened was not a sample of what might happen Sunday after Sunday. Probably not. But it all went with the plaee she hud chosen. Perhaps it was not at all the thing for Mrs. Ward to do. It might not accomplish any good. But then, it —she stopped thinking about it and went onto the house to prepare the lunch. When Mrs. Ward came in. she found Carl satisfied with a bowl of bread and milk and Barbara quietly busy getting lunch for the rest. Mrs. Ward offered to help with the work; but Barbara saw that she was very tired, and insisted on her lying down. "I'll have everything ready eery soon," she said cheerfully; and. as she went back into the kitchen, she was humming one of the hymns sung in the service. "What do you think about to-day?" Mr. Ward asked in a low voice as his wife lay down on a lounge in the dining-room. "You mean Barbara's sitting with us?" "Yes. Will it help matters any?" "0, I don't know. I never wotild have done it if I hadn't happened to think of Mrs. Vane. She's rich and has an assured place in society. Her girls always come with her and she introduces them right and left to everybody." "Yes, Martha, but Mrs. Vane is ec centric in all her ways. She is ac cepted because she is rich and inde pendent. But have you noticed that these girls that come to church with her never get on any farther? No one knows them in spite of her in troductions. J inquired of young Wil liams one Sunday if the Barnes girl was in the Endeavor society of the church, and he said he believed she came there tlwee or four times and then stopped; and, when I asked him the reason, he said she did not feel at home, the other girls were better educated or something like that." "That's just it. You can't mix up different classes of people. If they were all like Barbara, now, and knew their places—" But just then Barbara appeared, |and Mrs. Ward abruptly stopped. When Barbara went out again, she i»aid: "I don't know whether her go ing with us to-day did more harm or good." "It did the g-irl good, I am Bure," said Mr. Ward. "O, well, I hope it did. But I'd give a good deal to know what Mrs. Bice and Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Burns thouglitabout it. They knew Barbara, for they have seen her here several times at our club committee meet ings." "You don't suppose they would talk about it, do you?" asked Mr. Ward, sarcastically. "They were talking about it all the way home, or I'm very much mis taken." "What an inspiring thing it would be to a minister if he could only hear the conversation of his congre gation for half an hour after church service is over," said Mr. Ward, half to himself and half to his wife. "Whatever else he got out of it, he ought to get material for another sermon at least." "For more than one," added Mrs. Ward, wearily. And then Barbara called them and they sat down to lunch. But just what Mrs. Ward's three • friends did say is of interest, because ; it is a fair sample of what other ! people of Marble Square church said jon the way home, and the young preacher might possibly have thought ! that there is still a distinct place left I for preaching in churches, if he could j have heard what those three women 1 had to say about Barbara, i They came out of the church and | walked along together. | "It was a good sermon," Mrs. Rice began. Mrs. Bice was a plump, moth -1 erly-looking woman, and a great | worker in the church and clubs of . Crawford. "Mr. Morton is a young man. He | has a good deal to learn," said Mrs. S Wilson positively. "Dr. Law exchanges a good deal j too much, I think," was Mrs. Burns' comment. "This is the third exchange since—s'nee —last March." [To Be Continued.] WISHED FOR BRET HARTE. Sew York Mnn Telia n Story Which Mnile llim Sorry He Heard It First. At an informal setdown the other night, says the Chicago Tribune, of a few professional men one of them said: "I see that Bret Harte is com ing back to the United States and that he will visit some of the former scenes where he found his best sto ries. Bret Harte is like all Ameri cans who go abroad to live. There comes a time when they want to get back home. They know that they can always find a hearing here. 1 sup pose Bret Harte, however, will find some changes in the section of the country where he met the characters and saw the scenes which made his stories so well liked by all Americans. Other writers have been in the field, and if they have not told what they saw as Bret Harte would have done, they have at least taken olf the edge, and Bret Harte will have to draw on his imagination if he gives us any thing original as the result of his visit. "I was out in the Sierras last sum mer, but I saw only one character whom I think Bret Harte would have enjoyed as a matter of business. He was a young man who, having touched ail sides of mountain life, at last set tled down in a place where the inhab itants seemed to be huddled in order to rest, as a minister. They told me he was an all-round minister, by which I was given to understand that he had no creed. One of the inhab itants explained that all they wanted , a preacher for was to marry the mar riageable and bury the dead. "There had been a death in the . community a few weeks before, and the all-round was called upon to ofli | ciate. It was his first funeral. Hav -1 ing told the manner of the taking off , ' of the deceased, he said to the mourn , ing ones by way of consolation: > " 'llis time was come and he tiad • to go. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, says the Good Book, and i the man who writ it knowed thar was . no use buckin', for he said right after ■ it, hurrah for the Lord.' "When I heard the story I felt ' sorry, for I wished that Bret Harte ; could have heard it first." An Exceptional Case, > "My dear sir," he began as he en tered the room across the hall, "I find myself short by about —" '• "Sorry, but I'm dead broke," inter -1 rupted the other. "Is it possible? As I was saying, 1 I find—" "No use; can't help you." "You mean you have no money to ' spare?" 1 "Not a red." ' "Then let me lend you $25. Here it is." "But I thought—" ' "Yes, 1 see, but it isn't the case. I was going to say that I found myself ' short of eats at the house by about • half a dozen, and I wanted to ask if " you had any to spare or cotild direct L me to a cat store. As for money, you 1 can have a hundred if you want it."— ' Boston Globe. A Sure 'I liinu. I Promoter —Now, in case the rtcck goes up you win. Financier—Yes, but in case it goes j down? ( "Then I win. You see, this is a sure I thing; one or the other of us is sure to win." —Ohio .'•late Journal. r A SucccNMfnl Case. •> First Lawyer—l just concluded a j very successful case. 112 Second Lawyer—Your client won. eh? , First Lawyer—O, no, but I got my . fees.—Ohio State Journal. .•gjSfs Had a Urt(«r Story. "Did you see the account of that flash of lightning that burned the hair from a boy's head without oth erwise hurting him.'" "I did," answered the cheerful liar, "and I was pained to note the incom pleteness of the story. Now, I hap pen to know of a case that is really remarkable. The lightning entered a barber's shop and not only undertook the task of singeing a man's hair, but it rung up the proper amount on the cash register."—Chicago Post. A Fatal Mistake. Mrs. Isolate (of Lonelyville)—You say the new cook only stopped long enough at the Lonelyville railroad sta tion to take the next train back to the city, Ferdinand? I fear you didn't show her enough little attentions on the trip out! Isolate (miserably)—l bought her everything the train boy had; but I knew I had lost her when I didn't kiss her when the train went through the tunnel!— Brooklyn Eagle. Too Effective. ".Tohn." said Mrs. Billus, after the caller had gone away, "I wish you wouldn't bunch your blunders so." "What do you mean, Maria?" asked Mr. Billus. "I didn't mind your telling her that you were ten years older than I, but : you followed it up a minute later by letting it slip out that you were 53," —Chicago Tribune. It Would Seom So. Some men work all night long, And some from sun to sun; But the bill collector has a snap— His work is always dun. —Chicago Daily News. COMPARISON. "Miss May, I do not know any bet ter way to describe my embarrass ment in your presence fhan to say that I feel as if I were about to be ex amined at school." —Bombe. The Cynic'# Misfortune. This world's a place, when all is done, By fond illusions ruled; That man cannot have any fun Who never can be fooled. —Washington Star. A Snre Indication. "Oh, I visited such a woefully pov erty-stricken family this morning," said the sympathetic member of the charity committee. "Indeed!" asked the chairman of the committee. "Were they very, very poor?" "Poor! Man, it is pitiable. Why,- they aid the young man, loftily. "I'm looking for an opportunity." —Somerville Jour nal. Satisfactorily Explained. "Why do you talk so much?" ma cried. Reproving little May. "I s'pose It's 'cause," the child replied, "I'se got so much to say." —Catholic Standard and Times. FATHERLY ADVICE. "Wot's de matter, Billy?" "Me intented trew me over becuz 1 didn't have no automobile." "Take an old man's advice, an' don't have nothin' more to do wid her. A woman wid extravigant ideas like dat would ruin any man." —Detroit Free Press. Mental Activity. The tjian whose mind is ne'er content On one of two extremes is bent. He pushes onto lame's front rank Or else he gets to be a crank. —Washington Star. i!*,. One Way of Tellinsr. Curley—See that fellow looking over there? He used togo to the same col lege that I did. I wonder if he remem bers me? Burleigh—Ask him for the loan of Ave dollars. Curley—What for? Burleigh—lf he remembers you, you won't get it.—Judge. Muklnw Progre»*. Miss Young (enthusiastically) —Oh, Miss Timer is so lovely, so intellectu al! Not in her first youth, you know, but— Miss Stager—No; but from what I have learned about her, I should think she must be well on in her second childhood. —Leslie's Weekly. A Practical (itii'm. "What makes that friend of yours keep clamoring 112 • the young man in politics?" "I don't know," answered Senator Sorghum, "unless- he thinks that some of the older fellows are getting too wary and hard to handle."—Washing ton Star.