6 THE KEEPERS OF THE SEAL. X •tng th» song »112 labor, of the lowly smell ing: soil. The whirling of the spindle and the whir ring of the wheel; hand that guides the plowshare and the rugged soon of toll — Th« sinews of the country and Its weal. Cor the pulses of the nation beat within the sturdy arms Tliat are bared before the anvil, or they wear an humble guise; A.nd the sentinels of liberty, the shields from war's alarms, Jtre wholesome hearts and honest seeing eyes; T"fcose who feel the sweat of labor ere they break the wage of bread. Nor covet goods beyond the pale that bounds an honest reach; Rut give to God the glory, and the thanks that they are fed. And rather live a principle, than preach. Ah! God of Heaven, pity for the chilling drops that creep In tortuous threads, where living strength should swell the nation's veins; The sloth that cumbers progress, and the useless drones who steep The curse that follows idle hands and brains. I sing the song of labor, for the keepers of the seal, F"or a new day broke In radiance on the warders of the land; <H«a.rer thought to those who ask It, heap ing store to those who kneel; T» the sons of stalwart heart and horny hand. —Virginia Frazer Boyle, In Youth's Cam panula. BORN TO SERVE By Charles M. Sheldon, Amthor of "IN HIS STEPS." "JOHN KING'S QUESTION CLASS," "EDWARD BLAKE,' 1 Etc. (Copyright, IVOO, by Chaiieu M. Shwldon.) CHA PTER Vl CONTINUED. Morton looked at Barbara, and Bar bara glowed. Then she cast her eyes on the floor. "Yes, I suppose such a building is in keeping with our social settlement plans," Morton replied, somewhat «tiffly. "But Miss Clark' probably wishes to work out her—plans—inde- pendently." "There's such a thing as being too Independent!" quoth Mrs. Vane, •harply. "I suppose there is," answered Bar bara, faintly, and then sat silent. The th ought of being in any sense connected with Mr. Morton gave hei st feeling of bitter sweet. "Well, think it over!" Mrs. Vane continued, with what seemed like un necessary sharpness. "I don't know but that I shall make the gift con ditional on its being used in the so cial settlement plan. So you needn't ask me for any money to-day, sir," •he said, turning to Morton. "Thank you, Mrs. Vane. I know how to take a hint," he replied, grave ly- And then he caught Barbara's look as she glanced up from the car pet, and his tone made Barbara laugh a little nervously. He joined in it, «nd Mrs. Vane kept them company. "I don't know what the joke is about," she said, at last, as she •rubbed her nose again as if in disap pointment. "It's just as well, perhaps," Mor ton said. "Some jokes cannot be ex plained, not even by the makers of them." He seemed to make no motion to go, and after a few minutes more of general talk about the proposed house, during which nothing more was said about the settlement, Bar bara rose and said she must go, as I she had some work to do before tea time. Mr. M orton instantly rose also. "May I walk with you, Miss Clark? Sly calls take me your way." "Certainly," Barbara murmured, and they went out together. Mrs. Vane watched them from the window as they went past. The old lady was still rubbing her nose in «ome. vexation. "If he isn't thinking a good deal *nore of her than of the social set tlement just now, then I'll give twen ty thousand towards it instead of ten," she said, and then added: "They couldn't either of them do better. And if be doesn't have sense enough to know wliat is good for him, I'll try to help him out." Barbara and Mr. Morton walked down the stYeet, talking about every thing except the proposed building and the social settlement plans. Aft er the first moment of embarrass ment at the thought of walking with him had passed, Barbara was relieved to feel quite at her ease. She had sever looked prettier. She had a gift of vivacious conversation. Mr. Mor ton was not her equal in that respect, but he was at his best when he had * good talker with him. They had just finished some innocent play at repartee and were laughing over it when, as they turned the corner to wards the Wards, they met Mrs. Dil lingham and her daughter. Instantiy Barbara's face became grave, and Mr. Morton as he raised his bat seemed equally sober. The Diilinghams passed them with what aeetned to Barbara unusually severe faces. The light of the afternoon sud denly went out. She was no longer * college graduate, an educated young woman the equal, in every thing b-jt wealth, of this glorious creature ,*he had just passed; she was only a 'afred girl, a servant. And the gulf th*t yawned between her and the. minister was too deep to be bridged. It was folly to be happy any longer Happiness was not for her; only ambition was left, and even that might not be possibleWf this social »ettlement plan was to be involved in /iera, and— "l beg pardon. Miss Clark, hut did I hear you say the other night at Mr*. Vane's that you or your mother haa known the Diilinghams before came to Crawford?" Mr. Morton was coming to the ra- Xt«f of he? embarrassment. "No, mother it related to one branch of the family. Mrs. Dilling ham has been very kind to nie since that evening," she added. "I have not been courteous, hardly, iu re sponse to her invitation." "It's a very nice family," Mr. Mor ton said, quite tamely. "Yes, Miss Dillingham is a remark ably beautiful person, don't you think?" Barbara was not quite her self, or she would not have asked such a question. "She is not as beautiful as some one else 1 know," replied Morton, sud denly, and as he said it he looked Barbara full in the face. It was one of those sudden yield ings to temptation that the young minister in his singularly strong, ear nest, serious life could number on his fingers. He regretted it the minute the words were spoken, but that could not recall them. Over Barbara's face the warm blood flowed in a deep ening wave, and for a moment her heart stood still. Then, as .she walked on, she was conscious of Mr. Mor ton's swiftly spoken apology as he noted her distress. "Pardon me, Miss Clark. I forgot myself. I —will you forget—will you forgive nie?" Then Barbara had murmured some reply, and he had taken off his hat very gravely and bowed as he took leave of her, and she had gone on with a flamingfaceandabeatingheart. "He asked me to forget it? I can not," she said, as she buried her face in her hands up in her room, while the tears wet her cheeks. "He asked me to forgive it. Forgive him for saying what he did? But it was not anything very dreadful." She smiled, then frowned at the recollection. " silly compliment that gentlemen are in the habit of paying. But was it silly, or was he in the habit of pay ing such? Was it not a real expres sion of what he felt —" She put her hands over her ears, as if to shut out whispers that might kill her ambi tions and put something else in their place. But when she went down to work a little later she could not shut out the picture of that afternoon. She could neither forget nor forgive. O Barbara! If he could only know how his plea for forgiveness was be ing denied; and with a smile, not a frown in the heart! The rest of that week Mr. Morton stayed away from Mrs. Ward's, al though Mr. Ward had expected him to tea on Friday, lie sent a note pleading stress of church work. Mr. Ward commented on it at the table. "Morton is killing himself already. He seems to think he can do every thing. He won't last out half his days at the present rate." "He needs a good wife more than anything else," Mrs. Ward said, care lessly. "Some one ought to manage him and tell him what to do." "Yes, I suppose every woman in the church knows just the girl for him, and is ready to hint her name," I Mr. Ward remarked. "If he marries anyone in Marble Square parish it will create trouble. It always does," said Mrs. Ward. "I think Morton has sense enough to look out for that," replied Mr. Ward, briefly. Barbara heard every word as she was serving at the table, and feared & \ • ' * || V "PARDON ME, MISS CLARK." her face might betray her. But Mrs. Ward, in whom Barbara had never con fided, as she had in Mrs. Vane, did not detect anything; and Barbara found relief by retiring soon to her kitchen. The following Sunday she had an ex perience which added to her knowl edge of the position she occupied as a servant, and led up to the great crisis of her life, as she will always regard it. Since entering Mrs. Ward's family she had not attended evening service in any of the Crawford churches, owing to her desire to spend that time wilh her mother. But on this partic ular Sunday following her interview with Mrs. Vane and her talk with Mr. Morton, she decided that she would go out to the Endeavor meeting at the Marble Square church. There was no service after the Christian Endeavor meeting on this Sunday evening, as it was the custom one Sunday in every month to give the whole evening to the society and its work. The minister was in the habit of attending this service and giving it his special notice, sometimes by making a direct address on the topic of the evening, or by tak ing a part assigned to him beforehand by the leader. When Barbara went in that evening, the large, handsome chapel of the Marble Square church was rapidly fill ing up. The talented, earnest, hand- CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1901. some young preacher was very popu lar with the young people, and the so ciety had increased rapidly in mem bership and attendance since Morton's arrival. The usher showed Barbara to a seat about half way down the aisle. As she sat down she noticed Mr. Morton talk ing with a group of young people down in front. When they separated, he looked up and saw her, and, coming down the aisle, he gravely shook hands, and then introduced her to the young woman next to her. He then went to the door, greeted some of the members coming iu, and then went around by a side aisle and sat down on a front seat just as the meeting be gan. It had been a long time since Bar bara had attended a Christian Endeav or meeting. She felt that she was growing rather old for it, but to-night she enjoyed it thoroughly. When the time came for Mr. Morton to speak, she was surprised to find how her an ticipation of what he had to say was not spoiled by anything he said. It was all so manly, with such a genuine, real fragrance to it, so tinged with healthy humor, so helpful for real life, that it helped her. She was grateful to him. Like the first sermon she had heard him preach, his talk to-night made lies feel the value of life and the strength of effort in God's world. Then suddenly, while she was look ing at the earnest, eloquent face, the consciousness of the remoteness of his life from hers smote her into despair. When the service was over, she did not want to remain to the quiet, social gathering that followed. But her neighbor to whom Morton had intro duced her asked her to come into the little gathering of other visitors and strangers who were being received by an introduction committee and made welcome to the society, the committee giving all strangers topic cards and other printed matter belonging to the society, and introducing them to one another as well as to members. It was one of the new methods pur sued by this committee to ask all strangers to sign a little card giving the address of the newcomer, so that some one of the society might call dur ing the week, and, if necessary, act as escort to the next meeting. One of these cards was given to Barbara; and in a spirit of perversity, growing out of her feeling regarding her position, she signed her name and put under it the words: "House servant at Mr. Ward's, 30 Hamilton street." It was altogether unnecessary for her to be ostentatious with her posi tion; but she was not perfect, and felt an unnatural desire to test her recep tion right in Mr. Morton's own society. A few <sf the young people in the Mar ble Square church knew who she was and what she was doing, and with a few exceptions she had been treated with great kindness, no discrimination whatever being made. But the major ity of the young people did not know her, and to-night she was plainly dressed, her face was bearing marks of the weariness of the strain of the last month's work, and it was not surpris ing that she was suspicious of every suggestion of a slight. When the committee and the other strangers finally went out and mingled with the others in the larjfe room, Bar bara thought she detected a distinct coldness to her. She was certain her name and her position had been whis pered around among the young people. As she afterward found out, she did the committee an injustice, as they had not told anyone of her work. But she was left alone in the midst of all the others, and in spite of her habits of self-control and her previous experi ences she began to feel a bitterness that was contrary to her sweet na ture. She looked around the room, and no ticed Miss Dillingham talking with a group of older girls who had begun to come in the society a little while after Mr. Morton's eall to Crawford; and she went over to her and spoke to her. And then it was that Miss Dilling ham, who was not perfect any more than Barbara, did as wrong a social act as she had ever done in her life. She simply nodded to Barbara without say ing a word, and went on talking with out introducing her friends to Barbara or taking any other notice of her. Barbara instantly stepped back away from the group, while her face glowed and then paled. As she turned sharply around togo out of the door which was near, Mr. Morton confronted her. He had witnessed the little scene. "You will always be welcome in our Endeavor society, Miss Clark," he said, while the color that mounted to his face was as deep as hers. "I shall never come again so long as I am a servant!" replied Barbara, in a tone as near that of passion as she had ever shown to him. And with the words she opened the door and went out into the night, leaving him standing there and looking at her with a look that would have made her tremble if she had lifted her face to his. CHAPTER VII. WE CANNOT CHOOSE IN ALL THINGS. When Barbara went ont into the darkness after that scene with Miss Dillingham, it was more than the darkness of physical night that op pressed her. She thought she realized with a vividness more real than she had ever before experienced the gulf that separated her from the young minister of Marble Square church. With almost grim resolve she said to herself: "I have dreamed a vain dream. I will give myself up now to my career. Whatever ambition 1 have shall center about the possibilities of service, lie can never be anything to me. It would risk all his prospects in lif'k even if—even if—he should come to care for me—" Her heart failed at the suggestion, for there had been in timations on the part of the young preacher that Barbara could not help interpreting to mean at least a real in terest in her and her career. "But no, it is not possible!" she said positively as she walked on. "His llf« is dependent on social conditions that he must observe. For him to ignore them must mean social loss and pos sibly social disgrace. The minister of Marble Square church care for a hired girl! Make her his wife!" Barbara trembled at the thought of the sacred word which she hardly whispered to her heart. "Even if she were as well educated and well equipped for such a position as any young woman in his parish, still, nothing could remove the fact of her actual service. And service," Barbara bitterly said to her self as she neared home, "service is no longer considered a noble thing. It is only beautiful young women like Miss Dillingham, who have nothing to do, who have the highest place in society, A girl who is really doing something with her hands to make a home a sweet er, more peaceful spot is not regarded by the world as worth more than any other cog in a necessary machine. So ciety cannot give real service any place in its worship. It is only the leisure of idle wealth and fashion that wins the love and homage of the world." "And the church, too," Barbara con tinued in her monologue, after she had bidden her mother good night and gone up to her room. "The church, too, in its pride and vainglory is ready to join the world in scorn of honest labor of the hands." She recalled all the real and fancied slights and re buffs she had endured in the church and from church people since going out to service, and for a few minutes her heart was hard and bitter toward all Christian people. But gradually, as she grew quiet, her passion cooled, and she said to herself in a short prayer: "Lord, let me not offend by judging too hastily; and if I am to lose out of my life my heart's desire for love, do not let me grow morose or chiding. Keep me F-veet and uncom plaining. How else shall I help to make a better world?" A few tears fell as she prayed this prayer, and after a few minutes' quiet she felt more like her natural, even-tempered self. [To Be Continued.l A BRUTE MET HIS MASTER. Inhuman Immigrant Driver Receive! H Vigorous and Well-De served Itebuke. lie was the conductor of one of those big trucks that transfer immi grants who are simply passing through New York from South Ferry to the dock or train that they are scheduled to board. And he was very officious, feeling his authority as well as his superiority over the young men and women consigned to his care. They, with that lialf-startled and altogether conciliatory smile which characterizes the newly land ed, were taking his abuse and per haps congratulating themselves that they didn't understand the language, although his meaning was perfectly clear, relates the New York Times. "Here, there," he shouted to a very pretty Swedish girl. "Sit down, you!" At the same time he caught her by the shoulders and brutally pushed almost knocked, her over or. a basket filled with immigrant effects. Her of fense had been to take an interest in one of the tall buildings on lower Broadway. She didn't protest—but some one did. It may have been simply a fel low countryman or it may have been a big brother who had come onto New York to greet the newcomer. At all events, he was not a "greenhorn." lie had the easy air, the substantial clothes, and the self-reliance that conies from several years' residence in the country. Besides he had the shoulders of an athlete and a fist like a sledge hammer. Stepping from the walk into the street, he caught the offender exactly as the fellow had handled the girl, and, thundering in excellent English: "Sit down, you!" he grought him sprawling to the sidewalk. "llow you like it?" he asked, inno cently. The immigrants looked on and smiled. Not Such a Fool as He Looked, Some of the inmates of a Yorkshire asylum were engaged in sawing wood, and an attendant thought i.hat one old fellow, who appeared to be working as hard as anybody, had not much to show for his labor. Approaching him, the attendant soon discovered the cause of this. The old man had turned his saw upside down, with the teeth in the air, and was working away with the back of the tool. "Here, I say, J ," remarked the attendant, "what are you doing? You'll never cut the wood in that fashion. Turn the saw over!" The old man paused and stared con temptuously at the attendant. "Did ta iver try a saw this way?" he asked. "Well, no," replied the attendant. "Of course I haven't." "Then hod thy noise, mon," was the instant rejoinder. "I've tried both ways, I hev, and—" impressively— "this is t' easiest."—London Spare Moments. Thoughtful Husband. Parting is hard to bear, and the young man who endeavors to soften its pangs for his bride of a month cer tainly deserves commendation. "And now that our honeymoon is over and we are settled in our own home, must you leave me for three whole days for the sake of business, Henry?" asked the clinging wife in a tone of reproach. "I must, dear Isabel," said the young husband; "but to make the separation seem less abrupt, 1 am going on the accommodation train instead of the express."—Youth's Companion. Good mid Kvil Kxample, He who imitates evil always goes beyond the example that is set; h» who imitates what i 3 good always fall* short.—G uieciar dini. CRYSTALLIZED FRUITS. They Form a Delightful Adjunct to the Housekeeper's Store of Holiday Dainties. The manufacture of these sweet meats is really quite a simple matter, coming easily within the capabilities of the ordinarily clever housewife, while the expense of preparing them is very small. Of the various fruits best adapted to this purpose, peaches, pears and plums, pineapples, cherries and currants, are the most generally used, and are prepared as follows: Stone the peaches, plums, etc., by making a small incision in the side, through which the seed is slipped, pare and quarter the pears, and cut the pineapple into slices half an inch in thickness, across the fruit. Weigh and allow an equal quantity of the best white sugar, make a rich sirup, adding one small cup of water to each pound of sugar. Boil for a few minutes, together, then add the fruit and cook gently until clear, but un broken. liemove carefully on a wire strainer and let it stand about an hour, or until perfectly cold, then sprinkle liberally with powderd sugar, and stand the strainer on a dish in a moderately warm oven for two hours. At the expiration of that time turn the fruit, sprinkle as before with the sugar, repeating the process until the juice has quite ceased to drip, nnd the outside is dry and crj-stal lized. It is then removed from the oven and allowed to get perfectly cold, before being packed away in small boxes between layers of waxed papers. Thus packed and stored away in a dry place, it will retain its perfect condition for an indefinite length of time, forming a charming adjunct to the housekeeper's store of "extras." It is perhaps necessary to edd a word of caution in regard to overheating the oven, the exact amount required being ascertained by experimenting, since too great a de gree of heat will most effectually change a delicious sweetmeat into the toughest of leather. —Good House keeping. PRINCESS WALDEMAR. Member of Denmark's Itojal Family Who Has Achieved Distinction as a Sculptor. The object which attracted the great est attention at the recent charity ba zar held in Copenhagen was the sculp tured hippopotamus, modeled by Princess Waldemar of Denmark. The princess, who has long since preferred the study of art to social festivities, and who has won no little success as a painter, has now determined to devote her time almost exclusively to sculp ture, a step that has won universal ap probation from the leading art critics of Denmark. Princess Marie of Orleans is the wife of Prince Waldemar, youngest brother | ■ *■ ■&> 112 • t t V ~' r " iSJ? » ,y*'- f&S ,s v. xQm PRINCESS MARIE OF DENMARK. (Y.'ii'e of X'rlnce Waldemar. Known as the "Sailor Prince.") of Queen Alexandra. She is said to be the most popular woman of the cou,rt of Copenhagen, and Is a remarkable character. Shortly after her marriage she had an anchor tattooed on her shapely arm, saying: "I am a Danish sailor's wife, and 1 want to do just as the others do." Beside her penchant for sculpture and sailing, the princess has another hobby. She is an enthusiastic fire fighter, and has just been adopted by the Copenhagen fire department as an august mascot. Some have gone so far as to call her the "fire laddie princess," and report has it that she does not ob ject to the title. American society is doubly inter ested in Princess Marie just now, be cause she and her husband will visit the United States next January, a com pliment paid to this country in return for the visit of tha United States ship Hartford, which cruised in Danish waters last summer. Peculiar Sect of Wbmen. Among the villagers on the Volga the province of Samara a curious sect of women has made its appear ance. It was originated by an elderly peasant woman in Soznavo, called the "Blessed Mother." These women have fled from the villages around into a remote district, where they live singly in holes dug out of the face of the hill. They Lead a life of fasting and prayer, and believe them selves called from the world which they think is shortly about to perish in general conflagration. The "Bles sed Mother" has "ten wise virgins" as a sort of bodyguard, «vnd the sect be lieve:; that these 11 women are pos se*s«i with Miiraculoua powers. GRACES LONDON PULPIT. Mf«, JaiiM'M IJroun Potter Is Asked Co Assist u( Suntluy Kvculuff Services. Mrs. Potter, the American actrea«, has been offered a salary by a London church to assist in the Sunday even ing services. The plan is that she recite for the congregation at a given time in the course of the ex ercises. She will dress in her own. conventional garments and in 110 way introduce sensational features. London is still talking of the tre mendous sensation produced by Mrs. James Brown Potter the first Sunday she electrified a fashionable London church audience by her recitations. The rector, with whose family Mrs. Potter was visiting, proposed to her that she recite certain hymns as an addition to the evening service. Mrs. jjj| i MRS. JAMES BROWN POTTER. Potter agreed to do so and readily consented to do all in her power to make the recitations as effective as possible. The following "Sunday evening, just as the rector finished his sermon, she stepped in front of the audience and with great feeling recited one of the most touching hymns in the Epis copal hymnal. Many of the audience were moved to tears. The church, which had been packed in anticipa tion of the innovation, was as still as the proverbial pinfall during the tal ented woman's part of the pro gramme. Mrs. Potter was dressed all in white and recited in a low but per fectly distinct tone. Mrs. James Brown Potter will be remembered as the society woman who foresoolc the social world for the stage. Sixteen years ago she was a belle at Newport and New York, and her pretty home in Washington square was the center of New York life. But discontent entered and Mrs. Potter took to the stage. For many years her husband expected her to re turn, but gradually hope died out and it became known that the brilliant so ciety bud had become no les3 a bril liant flower of the stage. In the Potter home there was a small child, Anne Urquehart Potter, I called "Fifi," who was left to her fa ther's care. Miss Potter recently married Mr. Stillman, son of the New York banker. Between mother and daughter during the many years that .have intervened there has been little | communication. Once they met, some | years ago, but no tenderness passed ! between them. Mrs. Potter is one of the most striking woman of the stage. Not young iy years, she has preserved her g?rlish looks and is positively youth ful on the stage. At her country j seat near London she spends her days out of doors, and when a reporter visited her recently she was picking roses in the garden, the very picture of sweet 16 in figure and in artle grace. HOW TO TALK WELL. An Accomplishment Tlint Adds Mop# to tl&c lleauty of Ilome Tlinn lllcli Furnish! iifia. A gracious presence and cheerful, well-modulated voice have more pow er to create beauty in the home than all the luxuries that money can buy. The parent and teacher cannot over estimate their moral value also. They forestall opposition, allay irritation, j and prepare the way for receptivity. What is called "personal magnetism" is largely capable of analysis, if a j stiff, uninteresting person has gen- I uine kindliness and sincerity, though ; he have only ordinary endowments, ihe can be transformed by correct training. A husky, dull or weak voice may be made pleasant und clear, a slov enly enunciation may become elegant, a slouching gait dignified, and an un attractive person may become win some. The charm of manner consists in its graces, its simplicity and its sincerity. Cultivate a pleasant man ner of laughing. Keep the voice sym pathetic and cheerful. A mother or teacher with a querulous voice is re sponsible for much misbehavior. Look with interest, but without staring, at the person with whom you are talking. Do not let your eyes wander over her clothes or round the room. Be simple and sincere. Be yourself a good listener while an other is talking. While talking to a number of people scattered round a room, even though you are telling the story especially to one, let all the others feel that their presence is rec ognized and their interest is appre ciated. llold each one pleasantly with your eye. —Watchman. Story Told by a lilothor. | Little Bessie had been burned seT- I oral times and was warned to ' away from the stove. One day while I the garden she chanced to be stung I i>y a bee and running to her mother | exclaimed: "Oh, mamma, I didn't j know the bugs carried stoYea wiUj i them!"
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