r
THE POTTER JOURNAL
AXD
jno. S. Wann. e .
UEWS ITEM. ~ -
■ BE KM, NO. 17.
i'fte POTTEP. JOURNAL
AND
. E v FCKV WBDXESDAT AT
R0 lI)EBSPOBT, L'A.
* pu^isher.
Jv . r -
I t>el McCLARY. -!>-,
c J cu r TIS.
Rtornf j at Li" :hH W' ,rt
. , M N
r'-Nininif to hi* profession.
tj I.'ILV'L I' l I*'. 'H'LI '!!>.
ART**** K. M \ NN
JOHN S OANN N SON.
,N, F RS at Law A4 COTTTPJABPERS,
, . v ii-ti I '
Arthnr 3. M inn. ,
• I. • ... A.• *l7 BOllC*
s. S. GREENMAN.
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< I-.:-;-'IS:T. PKN N'A.
(■-..-I .q O* an J !i:*:iraiice .\sc nt
Ho'jfe,
P.VIIVN V K' t.I T. f ' V -
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i.rr f MA : \ ami MMITII Mreet*.
U:WI*VM.I.I . T\.
V -• H- TIT;;• ::• D.
JOHN 3. PEARSALL,
PAINTER,
< • ! DEKSPoRT. P v.
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THOMPSON & MANN.
P r-. Medicine*, Book*. Matinnerv.
II - P-.1 rs PIL C V.-L" = R'Er. L..
| " DKRM'i >RT. PA.
S. F HAMILTON.
pOI( USD JOB PRINTER
I ' M 1 .1 • 1 'd 7 /' 1 - •7.
I ' DER sPORT. PA.
] D J CROWELL,
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c OUDERSPORT, PA.
,!S|N ' .1.1 l\i'"Eß HANGING (lone
| neatness and dippetch.
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C *•I'LMOMI, cte.,(IKLM TITRTW, I
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r ■•n*-. '-inroticoi Jorn I
• x *;,! priwnpt tor.tlon- |
I From the Hearth auil Home.]
Boug-ht with a Price.
CHAPTF.K T.
1 ite elx-k over the parlor mantel
shelf struck six sharp and clear. The
tire blazed up with a cheerful glow
011 brightly tinted carpet and cur
tain*. 011 old fashioned handsome
furniture, on the little tea-table laid
for one. with a big bowl of flowers in
the middle—rare delicate blo>.soms
most of tliens—and, pushed into a
corner, a shabby little .bunch of
monthly roses. A prettv, bright,
womanly room; books were scat
tered about and bits of needle-work.
A piano stood open opposite the
window, with a canterbury overflow
ing with music by the side. A tiny
black dog, ill ears and hair, lay 011
the rug. and over all the firelight
flashed warmly.
"Mi-s Hugo i* not in, sir. It's
past her time though; would vou
like to wait, sirU' asked the servant.
"Yes, 1 ana leaving Waitham.
Thank you." Mr. Briton answered,
as the woman showed him into the
tire-lit parlor.
>ne bustled away to get candles.'
The visitor, hardly answering Hollo's
joy oll • greeting leaned against the
chimney-piece pushing back his thick
bmwn hair with one hand. The lire
- blazed and crackled, shining over
the strir-cht dark figures, the grave,
manly face.the steadfast eyes. "Tick,
tick, tick." went the clock, steadily,
-l-.wly, like the pulse* of fate. The
e.Oidle* ivi re bi\>u g it and put on the
t:\bie. one each -ide of tli>- big round
iiowi of flow* i >.
: **Chime,chiuifc, v rang tin quarter!
from ..in.* church tower across the |
road. Mr. Briton started and went
*0 "in wind" V . p'.l-llMig • i.u rv the
I thick crimson curtains. Very still!
and (piiet was it <>ut of doors. The
. a - over the g r h n gate iiardly
ujoVi d one graceful branch in the
I night air, the old church opjxhiite, 1
Iwith its graveyard mood it. robei
grax anii beautiful in the young
ino>nli_i.t.
Over tiie moor b-.yn l t!ie white
road wound away to Waitham. Slow-.
i\ along this road came two dark
figures loitering in the autumn night.
Mr. lb. ion dropped tin* curtain and
C.tliie ' vi'-k Tot:. liIV-ide.
"Tick, tick." went the clock; it,
seem. 1 to wiii-pcr to him, "False,
fa He. I'al>i. as the garden gate
swung back under the dark boughs.
" Well, good-by ; 1 *!ia!l see y- il
to-morrow. How long it will -eein! '
"Nonsense!" aiisweud Miss Hu
go'* gay full voice. "Don't talk to
me like that! flood-by."
She wav.-d iter hand playfully and i
went *wit'tly up the little j-ath. il< r
old servant nn t her at tiie door.
"Mr. Briton is in there, Miss Mil
dred."
The young lady raised her straight,
• lark brows in calm *urpri*e. S!ie
threw her sliawl and hat off ha*tily.
smoothing back her curiy liuir wjtli
both hand* and went soitly into tiie
littie jiarior.
••1 hope Hullo has entertained 1
you," *iie said, with a bewitching
smile; "t .is is an unexpected pleas
ure. Mr. Briton "
"I am come to say 'good-by,' Miss ,
Hugo." he answered gravely.
"What a disagreeai le word. on
really won't re.urn after the holi
days. then
"That depends upon eircumstan-1
ces. I have had an otl'er from Mrs.
Harold. She wishes me to travel
with her son during the next twelve
months."
"And then?'' she said, looking up
at him.
"I haven't decided. I have my
fellowship and I think 1 shall take
ul'iei *."
"Hour fellow!"
"1 don't know why you should
pity nn. . A- a fell* wot my college,
i s,.ail • t a living sometime, and i
don't kn.'W ;i happier life, if one
ought to Like that as a test.
"1 hope you will be a bishop, Mr.
Briton."
"Oil, don't! 1 wouldn't IK? for the
world,"said toe young man, hastily ;
"j am not at ail ambitious.
"liow we should quarrel. she
answered, smiling. "1 would make
i you ambitious, whether you liked it
or not."
"Will you try?" be- returned, com-■
j ing a step rearer across the rug.
COUDERSPORT, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 12,1873.
"1 am tired of teaching," was her
answer. "I won't have you for a pu
pil."
• 1 would be very good," he said,
in a low voice.
"No, you wouldn't; you know
you wouldn't. You are too fond of
teaching to learn."
"Listen to me. please," he urged.
"I won't listen. I know what you
are going to say and it is better left
unsaid. Will you have a cup of tea?
1 will call auntie down to propiti
ate the proprieties."
"1 don't want any tea. I am not
going to le treated pol'telv bv vou,
Mildred."
"I am not going to treat you JK>
litely." she said, as *he came back
to the rug. laughing "don't be
frightened." She stood opposite, still
laughing. In r beautiful face dimpling
and sparkling.
"Mildred," said Mr. Briton,"l will
speak."
"No. you won't, (jo with Fred
Harold on to the Continent lor
twi lve moth*, and I'll stay here try
ing to make my. pupil* understand
what niu*ie mean-. When you come
back I will listen to you and shall be
able to answer."
"Now. Mildred "
"No. And you musn't call me'
Mildred. *ir. Do as I till you, as an •
earnest of good behavior in future."
t "1 may never come back—l may
die abroad."
u ßrquiscat in jxice. You can't
make nie <erious, Mr. !biton. You
will come back wedded to some
ai '.ruling Italian woman."
"Vi rv lik< 1\ In- said, bitterlv.
.
"Certainly it 1*; or 1 may many
some redi.ain d Herman prolV asor. I
won't answer for inysvlf."
"Or }H'ihaps " Mr. Briton did
not ti 11 i*ii iii* sentence. lie Ixnt
down to pull Hollo's ears and did
not see the dull tiu*u that covered
! Mildred's face.
i "Don't VOU tiiink we have talked!
enough?" *he *ael. "J want my tea.
and 1 am tired."
"Well 1 will go; I shan't see you
again, Mildred. Harold will join me
in London if 1 go with him."
"(joo -by, then; 1 shall miss your;
voice in choir, Mr. Hiiton—l in i>e
v-iur successor in the school will
nave a gool tenor." lie held her j
iiaml a* *i.e -poke.
"Twelvemonth* is along time,"!
be -aid. "Give me something that!
w .11 be a link with llite happy
' i
"l o keep my liiemoiv green.:
Have one of these tioweis. Take'
y our clu i'-e."
"No: give me one."
Sin drew the bowl towards her.
"These geraniums are to bright;
for \oiir present tate of mind. I am '
afraid. You don't like IK ! itrojxs !'
j What bad taste! Will you hare one J
of these roses?—thev arc half dead,,
though."
"Never mind—l" like them lx-tri
Thev have grown ill the air and the j
sunshine."
"There then; ahd now you really,
must go." She went to the door!
with him. bidding him goob-bv with!
!,
| a gay smile.
"i shall come back," were his last :
' words, "in twelve moths. Mildred."
"Dollv. will vou bring mo in the!
tea? A untie has had hers, I sup-.
lH_.se?"
••Yes, Miss Mildred. lias he;
.gone?" . |
"Of course he has, you foolish old j
woman! Make the tea strong, Dolly.
, I'm awfully hungry." j
Hollo consumed must of the bread j
and butter however. Miss Hugo sat
down ou her low chair by the lire. •
drinking her tea and thinking—not
j of Mr. Briton altogether-—of soine
: i>odv else, who had walked home
with her in the starlight that even
ing, after she had given hi* sisters
tiiei 1 nui-ic lesson*; of the contempt
of tbose sisters for the musie-mis
i tres*: of the fact that the stately
man*ion was their home only till
: their brother married, when they
must go I.a to the dismal little
house in tiie Lancashire fens; of a
certain fair, proud woman who made
Mildred's hard life harder still by
covert insults. ."She was thinking of
all these tilings as she drank her tea.
j and fed Hollo with the bread and
! butter.
( Holly cane* in n-j carried off UneU
tea-tray. Hollo went to sleep, an l
Mildred got up to go to her aunt's
room. The rest of the bunch of roses
was lying on the ground. She picked
them up, hot tears aching in her
eyes.
"Boor little tiling*!" she said,
touching the withered jxtals with
her dry. feverish lips. "I wonder
what will be the end."
CH.CPTEK n.
Tiie twilight of the m-xt day was
gathering a* Miss Hugo come out of
the gates of the great house with a
roll of music in her hand and walked
-wiftly towards home. A dark, tall
figure followed her. gaining rapidly
on her foot*tep*. She stopped wait
ing for hirn to come up.
"Fred. I can't have this; vou
mustn t do it.'
"Why not," he asked eagerly. "1
am going away with Briton next
week you know; don't make me any
more miserable than I am."
"It's very foolish," and she let him
walk on at her side, talking to her in 1
hippy, broken sentences.
"In twelve months I shall le my'
own master, when I come back from
; rliat batel'ul Continent, and then we'll
get married, c-h, Mildred?"
( "I don't know."
"You wouldn't have the heart to
iil'i lue now . Mildred ?"
She stoppe 1, her face flushing, her !
voice hot an l orokert.
"Mr. Harold, understand plainly
thtre i* no engagement between u*.'
1 will not be bound in any way."
He tried to speak, but she went on- !
"1 don't care for you—you know I ,
don't. 1 wish you would go home— j
you make me very uncomfortable."
"1 lx*g your pardon. Don't Ik?
ero**. Mildred. Of course I know I
you can't care for me as 1 do for you
bin 1 am sure that 1 can make you !
happy." j
Tli y had reached the garden gale I
Lv thi* time and Mildred lent back
on it to an*wer inui.
"People can be very wicked for'
three thousand a year. Fred."
"Perhaps so—what do you mean ?" j
"Has it never struck you that you
are tempting me very much, even it
1 eared for anybody else—l have to
woik hard for my living and you
w ill be a rich man."
1 never thought of it like that." he
an*wered simply. "J have too much
faith iii you. Mildred to think you
would marry me for my money. I 1
know you wouldn't, dear."
"It would be very pleasant—very
pleasant to marry you and for your
*i*ti rs to go back to Lancashire." j
"I would make everything pleasant ;
to you, if you would many me, Mil
dred."
There was a moment'* silence be
tween the two. The night wind
whispered in the boughs above them,
the quiet moonlight fell on the
churchyard and the sibnt fields.
Suddenly , with a gesture of pain, as
though she tore something from her
heart and ca&t it down, Mildred an
swered—"l will marry you, Fred." j
He would have cla*ped her in his
arms, but she stepped back, shutting
the gate between them.
"Go now. lam tired, and 1 have I
to practice the organ for to-morrow." 1
"When shall 1 see vou again?" he!
1
asked eagerly.
"1 don't know. Oh! I ant so tired.!
Why won't you go?"
"I am going. Good-by, clear." She :
went up the path and left him.
In the little parlor the tire burnt j
brightly—Kollo sprang up to meet 1
her wagging his tail in ecstacies of
joy. She took him up in her arms as
if the touch of some warm living
thing could cease the throbbing of
her heart.
'•Bought with a price." The words
were echoing in her thoughts as she
laid her blow on the cold chimney-1
piece, with a strange sudden memory
of whose arm had rested there the :
night before.
CHAPTSR 111.
The Sunday morning dawned bright
and clear. Mildred was up early—
she was organist at the church oppo
site. and generally practiced a little
lx'fore the service Ixgan. With her '
music in her hand she came across
the road and opened the wicket by
the large gate.
A Ldl figure standing in the shad
ow the porch. In dull surprise Mil-|
died found herself shaking hands
with Mr. Briton.
"I came clown this morning. 1
could not resist the temptation of
spm iing another Sunday here and I
have some new* to tell you, Mildred."
She sat down on the porch seat,
hardly speaking.
"I am *0 happy," he said eagerlv,
"I came straight down here to speak
to you. Miidred, you won't be so
cruel to-day. I love you dearly.
"Hu*h." -she said, picking up her
music and smoothing out the leaves
with trembling hands, "You musn't
speak to me like that—l have never
given you any right to do so."
. "Mildred ! "
"I haven't." she returned in a sti
! fled voice, "1 am very sorry, but "
"What do yon mean?" he ask-d
sternly.
"1 am engaged." she said aim *i
: in a whisper "Why do you look at
rue like that ? I have done 110 more
j than girls do everv da v."
1 He took her music from her trein
, blmg fingers in bis tight clasp.
"What do vou mean?" he a*k. I
I
harshly. "What are you talking 1
about. Mildred?" By a violent
effort she regained her calmness and ;
stood up.
"1 am engaged." *ln- -aid—hi* look
forced her to add despite h. r*elf, "to
| Fred Harold."
j A look of the most intense eou
jtempi and di*gn*t crossed his face.!
i "A worthy rival," he s- 4 id scorn
fully. "It ha* half cured my love
i for you to know you would choose a
thing like that, with no in.lll of hi*
own." Hi* anger and disdain had
made lier quite calm again.
"We won't discuss his character,"
*hi said. "Can't vie be friends -till;!
Mr. Briton ?"
"Friend*!" lie repeated, without
touching her hand, "you aiv a strange
woman. Mi** Hugo, to think that I
can feel any friendship for you."
"I am very sorry—won't you tell
nie your new*? 1 shall be *0 glad
tola-ai you have prospered in any
thing." Her manner was *0 *iinp! -'
and unati'ected that it *ofteu-d him.
"I f it had only come a week ago it
might, perhaps, hare made a dirt': t
enee with you." he answered. "The j
chancery >uit that ha* been an heir
loom in our family i* finished nio*t
unexpectedly, and the lawyer* havi
kindly left two thousand a year,
which belongs. I am tuid, t<> me."
Mildred did not sieak—-he leant
back against the porch, looking
aero** at her home with eves that
saw not.
"It might have made a difference to
you Mildred." he said bitterly, "you
have ruined my life and yours."
"Not your life," she said tremu
lously. "there i* plenty of happiness 1
for you yet."
"l'erhaps *O." he answered. Liking
his la*t look at her *w i t face.
"Good-by. Tt is no use to say ;
any more, I 'she said, raking up ln*r •
music and passing up the stair* to
the organ loft. He did not attempt j 1
to follow or speak to her. He sat ;
down on the porch scat for a moment i '
and then went back to the town. It i
was years before Mildred saw him i
again.
* * * *
Mr. Briton did not g" to the ( on- i
tinent after all with Fred. He went
off by himself on a scientific tour to i
Central America and Mr. Harold de
parted on his travels, accompanied
by his mother and sister* and hi* 1
cousin Adela, a young lady whom it :
was his duty as the head of the fam- 1
iiy to marry.
He had a long talk with Mildred i
before he went.
"We must wait twelve moutli*," ;
he said, "and then I shaii be my own
master. 1 can't tell the mater —*hu i
would make me marry Adela." i
"You had better do so," *aid Mil- >
dred, scornfully. Site was beginning
to hate her position, to despise weak, *
good-natured Fred.
"Wi 11, it'* almo.*t a pity," he an- •
swered, smiling. "1 haven't managed
to fall in love with her; it would i
have joined tiie estates so nicely. 1
can fancy the ma'er's rage when she 1
finds out 1 have chosen you. But
you are worth a thousand Adelas. <
Mildred dear. 1 shall be proud of !
my wife." t
Fred went nbrod wivb his family D
party aud the old roun i of life went
,011 for Mildred. The w inter p;'*- l
and the bright summer, with no
change but the death of Mildred'*
aunt. They had never loved each
'other much, but Mildred felt lonelier
still without her.
In the early autumn came a "letter
to the cottage from Mrs. Harold.
"My sou .ell* me." the letter ran,
"that tin.re ha* been something like
an engagement between you and him;
I don't wish to write about the un
worthine** of your conduct—that i*
all past and gone. 1 am merely
obeying my son's wi*he* in address
ing you. He is to be married to
morrow to Miss Adela Bremer, an 1
he hope* you thought no more of hi*
word* than he did of your.*."
The letter all through was in the
same strin. trampling Milly'- pride
into the du-t —a bilt r puni-hm nt.
♦ CH VI'TKU IY, AND I VST.
Four years had passed since Mil
dred left Waitham. heart-sick of the
place—four dreary year* of life a* a
governess, partly in a school, partlv
in the family *ln- wa* with n >w. Her
pupils —three little romping children,
who had !>eoit jilaying at a little dis
j tance on the *.tn i came runiiing up
with *ome jircttv *hell*.
"Look, Mi** Hugo, we are going J
to take them horn •to mamma." >ln
an*vve'.v I tin 111 pi a sail t!y—the eliild
, ren seeme<l 11 r only friends ju*t now.
"\\ e had !letter go back," *iie said,
taking little Arthur's hand. The
little It:;Sia 11 v i!];.gi* to which the fam
ily had eoinc for the winter on ac
count of Mr*. Wilson'* health, was
about a mile from the sea. She was;
waiting for In r governe** at the top '
of the broad sL j>* that I d to the)
house.
"I thought you were never coming
back. I* it wise to take the children j
so far, Mi-* Hugo?
"They like the sea," returned Mil
dred.
"Ah! 1 am afraid you *poil them:!
but 1 am glad vou are come home.
We exjM-et visitor* and there i- no
thing lv adv. Would you mind In !p-j
ing Marie a litriie. Mi** Hugo? Fllen '
has a bad headache and is lying down." ,
"Certainly." said Mildn I ph-a*ant- '
ly. She was tired already, but she
busied herself all the afternoon dust
ing an 1 arranging and giv ing order*
to the Italian *t 1 vant*.
Evening came, and the vi*itor*.!
Mr. Wii*on"* brother and sister-in- ;
law and a tall, bearded friend of
their*, vvlie'in Mildred bowed to in
the lamp-light and did not revognizt
until bespoke. Had be recognized
her? Mildred e mid n-.r tell. H.
!iad chatted all the evening to Mr*.,
Wil*ou and her ih uglitcr Ellen, whib
tiie governe** *at iy the table witii
her work. e:i* ; .iug rare glance* at t! • ,
dark, pleasant face, so much older
and sadder. 1
Mil 1 red li.ad thought over and over I
again what their me-ting might !.k
like if they ever m-.i again. She had
never fancied it like thi-*. without n
look of recognition from the dark
eyes that hud sought hers so often
once.
Next morning before dawn Ellen
Wilson came into Mildred's room.
"Will you get up? We are going 1
to *pend the day among the hills and
mamma wi.-lic* trio children to go.
Will you mind helping me to pack?" ,
It was a radiant day, without a
breath of autumn coldness in the air.
Mildred was tired before she started
and the children wearied her at every
step. She sat down at last, utterly
unable to go any further.
The others were on ahead, laugh
ing and talking. Mr. Briton walking
1 reside Ellen and making himself veiy
agreeable.
"I wonder where Mi** Hugo can
be?" asked Mi.** Wilson, at last, miss
ing the governess. "Those children
will surely fall over the rocks."
"Miss Hugo?" said her companion.
"Is that the la ty's name?"
"1 1-*. our governess. Where can
sh • be?"
"She"* tired." said .rin-ie, "and she
is sitting down behind with Arthur." .
"I wii! go back," said Mr. Briton,
turning eagerly.
"Don't trouble, Mr. Briton." ex
claimed Ellen, loth to lose her cava
lier, but he had already hastened down
the gra*sy slope. Re had not recog
nized Mil lred ; indeed he h3d hardly !
$1.75 A YEAR
1" •ke-1 :; her. for >!;e was chang. I
very much. but the name roused his
curiosity, Perhaps it might
He came down the grass slope
until he reached the little 'hollow
where Mildred sat re-tiny with A -
, Thur sound asleep at her side. .Sim
Was lyings back again-; a tree, look
ing down*on the warm blue sea. Imr
lip- trembling with silent pain. Mr.
Briton lingered a moment—he knew
her now. and; looking at her, he Saw
she had suffered even nor than he
had.
-I am afraid you are tired," h<-
said, coming forward hastilv.
She ros<. quite e. lm an I sell pos
se-sod.
"1 am a little. J'oor little Arthur
i ha- iallon last a-ieep." and she turned
away, bending over the child.
u Don't wake him."-aid Mr. Briton,
tou<-!ii'. g her and : "let hiiu sleep
while he can. Id i- a pilv we can"
; all be children."
"It is a pity." She s.,id nothing
• more, bat looked straight away oat
on to the sea.
i The -ilenee grew in titrable af ei
a moment, yet Mi. Britou hardly*
knew hov, to break it.
j In a-u hieii thought .he took from
hi- pocket-book a folded paper. In
,-ide. Care full; wrapped awav. was a
little £ided rose. He came to lier
-,i<i 1 and touched her bent bend to
make her look at him.
"Ho you reniemlh r tiiis ?" he said.
'*l iiav- k j<* it e\ r -inee. yj v love
|is as fresh as ever. Shall we forget
.• n<i loi _; x * all that is sad in ;he auld
iang -\ sic .'"
Mi in voices eaine from the hill,
: -oiindiiig closer re r\ moment.
M e .-hall be interrupted in a ino
| ment," i c said. "Tell me, Mildred.
-ha!i I k rp th;> r>- or throw it
a ..*u\ f"
i "Keep it." she whi-j>. red, still
i hitmg her f. <• : . (lK | a> \j,
Briton ; ut his flow, r back, Kllen an 1
■ a-, osners ripp.;.;.*! at tin top ~| the
hollow.
Mildred's punishment was over at
last. She had more than her deserts
after all in the i ti'.iiul low of the
mail sir !;; V! I • 7 ; i Veil ill their
happ; w. d ied life I, **< r memories
had "it ir place, though unspoken.
J They could neither of them forget
, t hat Mildred had one 1 been "Hot OUT
WITH V I'RU i."—J. A'., in //.<* Fam
ily 11 r i ■/.
AN* l.'ngli-h scientist k..- discov
red a faei imp..riant to fanner-. It
that sulphiteot i.:m appears tocx
. teise ad' influence in arresting
the spread of decay in potatoes af*
fected by tin potato disease. In one
experiment the -ait was dusted over
-• one tubers partly decayed from this
eaase, when they were stowed away.
Some mouths afterwards the pota
toes were found to have su tiered no
further injury.
Tiii I>UOR I' M.OI K HD.—Some time
since 1 wished to enter a strange
church with a minister a little lie fore
the time for service.* We procured a
key. but tried in vain to unlock the
outside door with it. We concluded
we had the wrong key and sent to
the janitor for the right one. But he
came and told u the door was al
ready unlocked. All we had to do
was to push, and the door would
open. Me thought ourselves luck*d
out, when there was nothing to biu
der us from entering.
In the same way we fad to enter
into love and fellowship with God.
I he door, wv think, is locked against
us. We try to fit some key of extra
ordinary faith to open it. We tiv to
get our minds wrought up to some
high pitch of feeding. Me sn\."l
have tin* wrong key; I must feel
more sorry; I iDii-t weep more."
And all the time the door is read; to
open if w. come boldly, with humble
eai nest no-- to th< i rone of grace.
Me ma; ente i f: e ly. at once, with
out !a\ nig to uulock the door.
Christ is the door, aud his heart, is
not shut against u>. We must enter
without, -topping to tit oi r key of
studied faith, for liis mercy is nor.
locked up. M e mml enter boldly,
trustingly, c-'t doubting His readi
ness to receive u- "just as we are."
He i- willing already, and we must,
not -top to make Him willing by our
prayers or tears.—s. si. Gmi.