l)c 3Timc0, New Bloomficli, pa.
3
CHARITY.
f'F we knew the care nnul crosses
l. Crowding around our neighbor's way i
If we knew the little losses.
Sorely grievous, day by day,
Would we then so often cliide him
For his lack of thrift and gain,
Leaving on his heart a shadow
Leaving on our lives a stain ?
If we knew the clouds above us.
Held but gentle blessing there,
WoiikV we turn away all trembling,
In onr blind and wei.k despair?
Would we shrink from little shadows
Flitting o'er the dewy grass,
If we knew that birds of Kden
Were in mercy Hying past?
If we knew the silent story.
Quivering through the heart of pitta,
Would we drive It with our coldness
Hack to haunts of guilt again ?
Life hatlunnny a tangled crossing,
Joy hath many a break of woe:
But the cheeks, tear-washed, are whitest,
And kept in life are flowers by snow.
Let us reach Into our bosoms
For the key toother lives,
And with love towards erring nature,
Cherish good that still survives!
So that when our disrobed spirits,
Soar to realms of light above.
We may say "Pear Father, love us.
E'en as we have shown our love."
THE MISSING CHECK.
BY JUDHE CI.AttK.
C A MF.R11Y CHRISTMAS, "Miss
J. Mabel "
It was the first time Mabel had beard
the words that day. From early -dawn
idic had toile'd at her needle.
The bells were chiming eleven and
Mabel stnnd, dripping and shivering, on
the threshold of the wretched tenement,
one of who.se poorest apartments consti
tuted her home. The night was dark
and stormy, and she had had a long walk
through the driving rain and sleet, from
the fashionable quarter in which her rich
employer dwelt, to the humbler one that
contained her own miserable abode.
" A merry Christmas, Miss Mabel, and
there's a Christmas gift for you," said a
little, dumpy old gentleman, touching her
arm as she was about to ascend the steps,
and thrusting a crumbled slip of paper
iuto her hand.
What sharp eyes the little old gentle
man must have had to recognize her in
that dim and shadowy light, for it took
the second glance of Mabel's, young and
keen us they were, to make out the jolly
features of Mr. Wentworth, who had
once employed her to copy some papers,
for which he had paid her liberally.
Mabel would have said " thank you"
for the gift, whatever it was; but before
idle had time to do so, the little old gen
tleman was off.
No wonder Mabel started when she
had lit her lamp and inspected her pres
ent. Such are seldom made outside of
story books It wait a check to hearer on
one of the city banks, for five hundred
dollars !
What a munificent gift to come from
one almost a stranger! And how oppor
tunely it came too 1 She would bo able
to pay off the arrearage of rent now, that
liad given her so much trouble. Mabel
went to sleep with her treasure under her
pillow; and while she is dreaming happy
dreams, in which a faee she had striven
hard to banish of late, is constantly com
ing up, let us tell the reader who she is.
Mabel Gleason's fat'her, (she had lost
har mother in early infancy;) was a weal
thy merchant, whose study it had been to
lavish on his daughter, and only child,
very possible indulgence, ami to adorn
her with every attainable accomplish
ment. It is not too much to say he idol
ized her ; and had her heart been less
true or her head less steady, she must
have been totally Bpoilod.
A financial crisis came, culminating in
a crash, among the victims of which was
Mabel's father. Crushed and broken in
spirit, his health gave way, and the end
of a few months saw Mabel an orphan
and penniless, for nothing had been sav
ed from the wreck of her father's for
tune. Fading she could better bear her al
tered condition among strangers, she tad
left her native city, and sought a home
and employment in the metropolis. The
result we have already seen.
Mr. Wentworth's check was duly hon
ored ; it would have been for an hundred
fold as much. Mabel, keeping out no
wore than sufficed for the preseut need
deposited the balance in a savings bank.
Hhe took a tidy room in a respectable
street, which she was fortunate enough to
pecurc on moderate terms, and straight
way advertised for pupils in Freuch and
music.
Fortune seemed to Rtuilo on Mabel at
Inst. She rendered so complete satisfac
tion to the first few pupils that gave her
a trial, that she had as many as she could
take. Her' income enabled her to add to
instead of diminish her deposit in the
bank ; and she was beginning not to be so
rigid now in her banishment, during her
waking moments, of that face that always
would come up in her dreams.
'But a shocking blow was in store for
poor Mabel. She was on her way from
the house of a pupil one day, when a
stranger accosted her:
" I am sorry to trouble you, miss, but
it is necessary you should go with mc.
I am a detective, and have a warrant
for your arrest. As I am not in uniform,
no one need know you are in custody."
" Will you not at least inform me of
what I am accused ?" Mabel ventured to
ask.
" My instructions are to answer no
questions," said the man doggedly.
" lou will learn all at the police-office;
and it's1 my opinion the sooner we go there
the better."
Seeing no alternative, Mabel acquies
ced and walked in silence by the Bide .of
the officer.
When confronted with the Judge a
shrewd, but withal pleasant looking gen
tleman, on a high seat she was not so
much intimidated as might have been ex
pected. She had had time to collect her
thoughts by the way, and there is. ever a
true courage in innocence, that makes the
weak strong, and inspires the timid with
boldness.
" Will you be good enough to .tell me,
sir, why I have been brought here ?"
Mabel asked, in a voice so gentle and
musical and with a flush on her face so
far from betokening guilt, that his Honor
forgot the prisoner, and remembered only
the lady.
" You presented a cheek some time
since, Miss Gleason, for five hundred dol
lars, purporting to be drawn by Mr. Went
worth on tha Bank, on which you
drew the money."
" T did," Mabel answered ; "it was a
Christmas present from Mr. Wentworth
himself. He gave it to me with his own
hand," said Mabel, astounded at a charge
so unaccountable.
" Mr. Wentworth has 'been sent for,
and will be here presently," the Judge an
swered. " Ah, here he comes."
As the little old gentleman bustled his
way to the front, and Ins eyes fell on
Mabel, he started with astonishment.
" You here he exclaimed. "What is
themteaningof all this?"
" That is the person .who presented the
check, eaiu the Judge.
" Impossible !" cried the little old gen
tleman. " She has admitted it."
Mr. Wentworth was dumbfounded.
The whole affair was involved in mystery,
The written part of the check, had he
not known the contrary, ho would have
sworn to ba in his own hand. His check
book, too, was missing, though how it
could have been abstracted from the safe
in his room, of which he kept exclusive
possession of the key, was quite past his
comprehension.
" You gave mo the check yourself,
sir, said Mabel, " on the steps of iy
lodgings, late on Christmas might ; you
Burely eannot have lorgotten i.
"Late on Christmas nidht 1" why,
the old gentleman was sure ho hadu't
stirred out of the room after dinner, and
that ho had gone to bed at nine I
Whatever conclusion the little old gen
tleman's mind might have reached in its
bewilderment, Mabel s was fast approach
ing one at the ludicrousncss of which she
would have smiled under less serious cir
cumstances ; which was, that Mr. Went
worth had celebrated Christmas a little
indiscreetly, and taken a drop too much
for his memory, when herTcflections were
cut short by the appearance of a new
face on the scena a decidedly handsome
one, belonging to a young gentleman who
had accompanied Mr. Wentworth to the
court. It was moreover the same face
that would keep coming up in Mabel's
dreams and sometimes when she was
awake too.
" Mabel Gleason !" cried the youn
it 1171 1.1 11, , .
mau. - nai wnat absurd Diunaer is
this ? Who has dared "
A deep flush, succeeded ty a deadly
pallor, overspread Mabel's countenance,
as she tottered, and would have fallen,
but tor the timely support ot her youth
ful champion.
" Uncle I" the latter vehemently ex
claimed, " I know this lady, and would
stake my life upon her innocence !"
" So would I, boy, though I'm puz
zled to my wits end 1"
"See here!" he continued, addressing
the J udgc, " this case should go no fur
ther !"
" The charge can only bo withdrawn
by those who made it," the Judge an
swered.
" And who are they ! confound them !"
" The officers of the bank."
" The officers of the bank bo bio wed,
I'm one of them myself! I'll go her
bail, anyhow, and fix it up with her after
wards." The proposition wan satisfactory.
As Warren Harding conducted Ma'bel
home, he learned for the first time, her
altered circumstances. When last they
had met, it was in her native city, in the
midst of a refined and .fashionable circle,
of which she was the centre of attrac
tion. He had been absent for a year An
Europe, and returned but a few days be
fore. How little had he expected in ac
companying his uaclo to the police court,
that the meeting to which he looked for
ward with most impatience should take
place there.
Whatever explanations passed between
the two young people,. they led to War
ren s passing .a rslecplcss night. It was
past midnight and he had not yet retired,
when his uncle, whom he believed snug
in bed, muffled, hatted,. coated and equip
ped for going out, unceremoniously en
tered the apartment. A strange expres
sion in his eyes particularly arrested
the young man's attention. Taking a
key from his pocket, he opened a secret
Ldrawer of a secretary in one corner of
tha. room, from which he took what seem
ed to be a blank book, which he opened,
aud taking up a pen, began to write.
Warren drew nearer, it was a check
book his uncle was writing in ! Having
finished, the old gentleman neatly cutout
and folded the part on which he had
written, and wa3 about leaving the room
when Warren spoke :
" Where are you going uncle ?"
" To make a present to Mabel," replied
the other without turning his head.
" 1 made her one on Christmas, and
intended making her another on Niw
Year, but immchow foiyot it."
Warren grasped his uncle's arm.
latter gave a bound that almoat lost
his balance.
The
mm
" Why, what's the matter he exclaim
ed rubbing his eyes : " where am I '.
" See ! see ! uncle cried the young man
eagerly ; " the mystery is explained.
" What's this?" said the old
srcntie-
man, more and more astonished. " My
lost check book, as I live ! and a check
in my hand, .regularly filled up, and da
ted to-day 1 Aud here why here s
memorandum, in the margin, of that con
founded check that has caused all the
mischief. It's nil plain now ! I've been
at my old prank again, lhey used to
accuse moot sleep walking when 1 was a
boy, but I never more than half believ
ed it.
When Mabol called next day to tender
back the ?oUU which her deposit and
savings, and some tuition bills she had
collected, enabled her to do the tender
was emphatically rejected. Mr. Went
worth said he had but one regret in the
matter, and that was, that he was much
better when aueep than when awake.
Jf our young friends would know
what came of it all, they have only to
put themselves in Mabel and Warren's
place, and think what they would have
dono in similar circumstances.
tS The following obituary notice re
ccntlv nrmeared in a German tinner:
"My h usbaud is no more. He did not
wish to live longer, and, if he had, it
would have made no difference, for gout
entered his stomach and was soon fol
ilowed by death. I shall marry the doe
rtor who so kindly attended my late bus.
land ; I learned then to trust him. Soft
rest the ashes of the departed one, whose
wholesale liquor business I shall coutiuue
at the old stand.
Marta W. Schlemm.
" My noble husband, Professor Seil is
dead ; the most powerful medicines would
not keep him with me. Two sorrowing
children would weep over his grave, but,
alas ! our marriage was not thus blest. As
he is dead, aud it cannot be helped now,
1 do not wish to think of it, and do not
wish to be reminded of my loss by having
peoplo condole with me. His death
has placed me in the mournful state of
widowhood j and I see no way to get out
ot it."
B- A man in llhode Island was sent
to jail ten days for sleeping in church.
naming was done to the clergyman.
The' Temperance Question.
IN Sweden, the fiist time that a man
npponrs in any public place in a
state of intoxication, he is fined three
dollars, the second time six dollars. For
the third and fourth times, the .penalty
is much more severe, for the culprit has
not only to pay a heavier sum ot money.
but also loses his rights as an elector,
becomes ineligible for olhcc and -on the
Sunday next ensuing after his drunken
fit, is placed in the stocks in front of the
parochial church.
The fifth time a man gets tipsy ho is
incarcerated in a house of correction,
and condemned to six months' hard la
bor, and on the sixth occasion he is sent
to prison for a whole year, of hard labor.
Every person convicted of having in
duced another to get drunk pays throe
dollars, and if the person thus influenced
be under age, six dollars is the penalty.
An ecclesiastic who thus forgets himself
loses his position, nnd if he be a civil
officer, he is suspended or deprived of his
charge and its emoluments. Moreover,
drunkenness is never accepted as an
excuse for any crime or breach of the
peace, and a man who dies drunk is not
allowed burial in consecrated ground.
The result of these regulations, and
their faithful execution by magistrates,
has, of late years, been a most remarkable
improvement in the moral condition of
the lower classes in Sweden, and the
example is held up to other nations -by
writers on temperance legislation.
In this country, the time has come"for
a revival of personal and legal effort to
arrest the rising tide that threatens 'to
sweep all barriers away.
A Romance of the Pare.
A FEW WEEKS ago a poor, lonely
bachelor, who had never loved or
been loved, left his dreary home for the
sake ot a little exercise, the morning
was bright and sunny, and as he walked
up Broadway he gazed longingly at the
girls as they passed him, aud thought.
of his wretched condition. As he ' &w
their bright and smiling countenances,
and the happy faces of their male compan
ions, he could not but contrast his own
loneliness and single misery. These
thoughts weighed upon him, and he
became quite melancholy. As he was
standing on the side-walk, gazing listlessly
about, he saw a beautiful young girl
coining toward him, leading a venerable
blind man. Unmindful of the danger
she incurred from the passing vehicles,
her whole thought was devoted to her
charge, which she finally landed in safety
on the side-walk. He thanked her
for her kindness, and she left him. The
lonely bachelor saw the whole transaction,
and it struck him so forcibly that all his
ideas concerning the gentler sex of the
comniuuity were changed. He took
look at the young lady that he might
know her again, and went his way. He
subsequently described her to some of
his friends, and after ascertaining who
she was procured an introduction. He
found the was just ns good as he
thought her; and nowhe is a married man.
Of course he told her of the incident that
led to their acquaintance. She, in turn,
told it to her lady friends ; and the conse
quence is that a uew Society has been
started, -called " The Young Ladies'
Humanitarian Association for He! pin
Blind Men across the street." Bachelors,
look out. New York Commercial.
An Unpleasant Request.
A newly married man came very near
being made a victim ot circumstances in
1 .1 .1 1 w
uaaimore ine oiner day. in company
with his blooming bride, lie repaired to
the depot for the purpose of taking pas-
sago northward, and just as he was
about passing into the depot, he -was
approached by a smallboy whose reason
is impaired, with "l'apa give me a cent
before you go away." The request of
the child was heard by the newly made
wile, and tor t!ie moment she looked
very queer at her husband. The latter
was also somewhat confused by the
peculiar fix which he was in, but managed
to ay to the child, "Go away ; I am not
your father." The little child, however,
asserted that suck was the case, and
stoutly insisted on being presented with
a penny. Again the wife looked queerly
at her husband, and had it not been for a
gentleman who stepped up to the couple
at this juncture aud remarked that the
child importuned for a penny every gentle
man with whom he met, the young
husband would not have enjoyed as pleas
ant a journey as lie anticipated.
SUNDAY BEADING.
Christianity.
In regard to that Christianity which
the world most requires to-day, Bishop
Huntington truly remarks ; We want in
you, Christianity that is Christian across
counters, over dinner-tables, behind the
neighbor s back as in his face. We want
in you a Christianity that ve can find in
the temperance ot the meal, in the mod
eration of the dress, in respect for au
thority, in amiability at home, in veracity
and simplicity in mixed socioty. Ilow-
land fl ill used to say he would give a very
little for the religion of a man whose
very dog and -cat were not the better for
his religion. W e want fewer gossipping,
slandering, gluttonous, peevish, conceit
ed, bigoted Christians. To make them
effectual on all public religious measures,
instructions, i.euevolent agencies, mis
sions, need to '.be managed on a high
toned, scrupulous and unquestionable
tone of honor, without evasion, or par
tisanship, or overmuch of the serpent's
cunning. The hand that gives away the
Bible must be unspotted from the world.
The money that sends the missionary to
the heathen must be honestly earned.
In tshort the two arms of the Church
justice and mercy must be stretched
out. working for man, strengthening the
brethren, or else your faith is vain, and
you are yet in your sins.
"CoiTt Rub It 'Out."
" Don't write there, said a father to the
son, T?ho was writing with a diamond ou
his window.
" Why not?"
" Because j'ou can't rub it out."
You made a cruel speech to your moth
er the other day. It wrote itself ou her
loving heart, and gave her great pain. It
is there now,and hurts her every time she
thinks of it. You can't rub it out.
You wished a wicked thought one
day in the ear of your playmate. It
wrote itself on his mind and led him to
do a wicked thing. It is there now ;you
can't rub it out.
All your thoughts, all your words, all
your acts are written in the book of God.
The record is a very sad one. You can't
rub it out.
Mind mclWhat you write on the
minds of others will stay there. It can't
be rubbed out anyhow. But glorious 1
news ! What is written in God's book
cau't be blotted out.
Go then, 0 my child, and ask Jesus to
blot out the bad things you have written
in the book of God.
Of What Persuasion.
In terrible agony, a soldier lay dying,
in the hospital. A visitor asked hiui :
" What Church are you of?"
" Of the Church of Christ," he re
plied. " I mean what persuasion are you ?"
" Persuasion !" said the dying man, a
his eyes looked heavenward, beaming
with love to the Savior; " I am persua
ded that neither death nor life, nor an
gels, nor principalities, nor powers nor
things to come, nor height nor depth,
nor any other creature shall be able to
to separate me from the love of Christ
Jesus."
HeaTon's Best Gift.
Jerenr Taylor says, if you are for
pleasure, marry; if you prize your health,
marry. A good wife is Heaven's last,
best gift to man ; his angel of mercy y
minister of graces innumerable ; his gem
of many virtues ; his casket of jewela.
Her voice his sweetest music ; her smile
his brightest day ; her kiss his guardian
of innocence ; her arms the pale ot hi
safety, the balm of his health, the balsam
of 1 s life ; her industry his surest
wealth ; her economy his safest steward ;
her lips his faithful counselors; her bo
som the softest pillow of his cares ; and
her prayers the ablest advocates of Heav
en's blessings on his head.
ttarWhen wo come to tho solemn
hour we shall want something more than
a formal religion ; it may have satisfied us
very well before, but it will give us no
light for the dark valley. " God be mer
ciful to me a sinner," will have more
meaning to us than a volume of the most
" beautiful prayers," pronounced with
the most faultless elocution.
BL. When a Breton mariner puts to
sea, his prayer is : " Keep me, my God !
my boat is so small, and the ocean is so
wido !" Does not this beautiful prayer
truly expressthe condition of each of us,
as we sail with frail boat on life's broad
sea ?