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 ai<e so poor that they keep 15
dogs."—Baltimore American.
Accounting for It Clicmienlly.
"It may be merely fancj'," remarked
Mrs. Selldom-llolme, "but since my
husband began drinking the water
from that Iron spring he has seemed to
be ten times as obstinate as he used
to be."
"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Xexdore,
"the water is tinctured with pig iron."
—Chicago Tribune.
Ilix Hn*y Day.
Quarry man- —Biddy!
Bis Wife —Phwat do ye want HOW,
sure?
Quarryman —Pour some kerosene
on th' fire an' make it hot so Oi can
thawoutme dynamite.—X. Y. Weekly.
The Iletter Part.
, The bachelors say that, on the whole,
Their independent homes will do;
Bat married men have better halves
And therefore better quarters, too.
—Good Housekeeping. ,
THOSE EQIINE HATS,
Uncle Hickorycrirtk—Whoa, thar,
Betsy! Dang it! Whar ye gwineV
Betsy—There's a furniture van
ahead with a mirror in the rear end.
I want to see if my hat's on straight.
—Cincinnati Enquirer.
Very ExoltiiiK.
He—That must be a very interest
ing book you are reading.
She —Oh, it's awfully exciting! The
heroine changes her gown six times
in the first chapter."—Tit-Bits.
Quite a Difference.
"You announce in your paper," said
the wrathful young wouian, "that I
would not be married, all reports to
the contrary notwithstanding'."
"Well, isn't that the report you
sent in?" asked the society editor.
"No, it isn't," answered the wrath
ful young woman. "The inference ia
all wrong. I said I would not be mar
ried to the particular young man to
whom I was reported engaged, which
is quite a different matter." —Chicago
Post.
At It Aftilu.
Once more the lonely fisherman
Dusts oft his book of flies;
Likewise his reel and pocket flask.
Also his last year's lien.
—Chicago Dully News.
THE LATEST COMPOSITE.
A composite picture of Mrs. Smith's
cooks for a 3'ear. She had a run of
poor luck, including a Chinaman, a
negro and several rather strong
minded and buxom females. —Good
Housekeeping.
Olid.
"Any odd job?" the tramp Inquired.
The housewife answered with a nod.
"Were you to do most any job,"
She pleasantly observed, " 'twere odd!"
—Detroit Free Press.
Probably Never Heard of It,
The theological argument waxed
warmer and warmer.
"But,mmr3 r dear sir," protested Dea
con Ironside, aghast, "you don't pre
tend to know more about it than the
Apostle Peter did, do you?"
"What did the Apostle Peter know,"
retorted the man with the aggressive
pompadour, "about the higher crit
icism?"— Chicago Tribune.
A Mystery Solved.
Bessie and her father were sitting
out on the lawn looking at the stars.
"That very red one," said her father,
"is Mars, named after the god of
war."
"The god of war!" cried Bessie. "Oh,
papa, 1 wonder if that isn't where the
shooting stars come from?" —Detroit
Free Press.
He IN Still Looking.
"Here's a good chance for you.
Jack," said the father of the young
man just about to graduate from
college, looking up from the "want"
advertisement in the paper.
"A chance isn't what I want," sa>d
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.