TH IVO KNO WS
knows wIlatlife is o'er the silent river,
tfertile brin can guess f the beyond;
jins and besrt achea known no more forever,
,a pathetic soul to souL respond ?
ors bloom beyond the silent river,
ifril'agrance fill the air with sweet perfume;
,ing friends united there forever.
there no broken ties beyond the tomb ?
.ll-tops green beyond the silent river,
cooling shadows rest beneath the trees;
lads and darkness hanisheod there forever,
tempest changed to gentle fanning breeze ?
here no tears beyond the silent river,
I only gladnessifrom their fountains flow:?
we have crossed life's path to tread forever,
now we hopS we then perhaps shall~know.
THE HEAVY BURDEN.
ther a heavy burden, isn't it, my boy?"
young man was silent. His looks in
that he did not comprehend. He
ten for some time bending over the
r with his thoughts fatr away ; and that
oughts were not pleasant ones was evi
rom the gloom on his handsome face.
dear boy, th'e burden is .not only
now, but it will grow heavier and
r the longer you carry it."
. Wardle, I do not comprehend you."
n'tLI call ac your house for you this
ng? And didn't I see and hear en
o reveal to me the burden you took
with you? You mustremember, my
iatl am older than you are, and that
been through the mill. You find
urden heavy; and I have no doubt
rah's heartiis as heavily,laden as your
then Clarence Spencer understood.
t morning he had had .a dispute with
. It had come of a mere nothing,
d grown to a.cause of anger. The
ad been a look and a tone:, then a
f ipatiencee; then a rising ,of the
then another look:, the voice grew
;reason was unhinged; passion
sway; antd the twain lost sight of
in, enduring love that .lay smitten
lug deep down in their thearts, and
the time only the,passing tornado.
trence remembered that Mr. Wardle
red the house and caught a sign of
e thought of one thing more:-he.
how miserably unhappy he had
the morning ; and he knew not how'
burden of unhappiness was to be
He knew that his employer was his
and that he was a true hearted and
Sman ; and after a brief pause he
: "Yes, Mr. Wardle, it is a heavy
oy, I am going to venture upon a
therly counsel.. I hope I shall not
t all," said Clarence, but he winced
as though the probing gave him
first place," pursued the old main,
'iver ot emotion in his voice, "you
her? Yes; passionately."
do you think she loves you ?"
't think anything about it-I know!"
you must admit that the trouble
orning caine from no ill-feeling of
s but a s:tlace squall, for which
a.t, are very sorry. Now answer
tly :-Don't you think your wife isi
. you are ?"
lwt doubt it.''
h)I't you thinkshe is suffering all
Well. Let that pass. You know
"ritg ier part of the burden ?"
I know that."
oUw, my boy, do you comprehend
e lhea\'iest part of this burden is.
e looked upon his interlucutorI
storm had all blown over and you
the sun would shine when next
d Your home, you would not feel
Continued Mr. Wardle, "you fear
Will be gloom in your home when
The young man bowed his head as he
murmured an affirmative.
"Because," the merchant added, with a
touch of parental sternness in his tone, "you
are resolved to carry it there !"
Clarence looked up in surprise.
"I--[ carry it?"
'"Aye--you have the burden in your heart
and you mean to carry it home. Remember
my boy, I have been there, and I know all
about.it. I have been very foolish in imy
lifetime, and I have suffered. Of course,
such burdens can be thrown off. Now, you
have resolved that.you will go homelto din
ner with a heavy heart and a dark face.
You have no hope.that your wife will meet'
you with a smile. And why ? Because you
know that she has no particular cause for
smiling. You know that her heart is bur
dened with'the same affliction which gives
you so much unrest. And so you are fully
assured that you wllhfind your home shroud
ed.in gloom. And, furthermore, you don't
know when that gloom will depart or when
the blessed sunshine of love will burst in
again. And why don't you know? Be
cause it is not now in your heart to sweep
the cloud away. You say to yourself, 'I
can bear it as long as she can.!' Am It not
Clarence did not answer in words.
"I know I am right," pursued the mer
.chant; "and very likely your wife is saying"
to' herself the same thing. By and by it
will happen as it has happened before that
one of the twain will surrender.from inabil
ity to bear the burden. Then there will be
a collapse and a reconciliation. Generally
the wife fails first, beneath the galling bur
den, because her love is keenest and most
sensitive. The 'husband, in such a case,
acts the part of a coward. When ,he might,
with a breath, blow the cloud away, he Will
cringe and cower until his wife is forced ,to
let the sunlight in .through her 'breaking
Clarence listened, :and was troubled. He
saw the truth and felt its weight. During
the silence that followed he setlected upon
the past, and his mind recalled scenes just
such as Mr. Wardle had depicted. How he
had seen his wife'weep when she had failed
and sank beneath the heavy burden ; how
often she had sobbed upon his bosom in
grief for the -error.
The merctlant read his thoughts, and after
a time he arose and touched him upon the
"Clarence,, suppose you were to put on
,your hat and go home now. Suppose you
should thinlk, on the way, only of the love
and blessing that might be; stp:pose you
should enter your home with a smile upon
your face, and you should put your arms
around your wife's neck, and kiss her, and
softly say to her, 'My darling, 1 have come
home to lay down the burden I took away
with me this mnorning. It is greater than I
can bear.'. Suppose you were to do this,
would your wife repulse you?"
"Respulse me ?"
"Ah, my boy, you echo my words'with
an amazement which shows that you under
stand me. Now, sir, have you the.courage
to try the experiment? Dare you to be so
much of a man ? Or do you fear she would
respect and esteem you less for the deed ?
Tell me-do you think the cloud of unhap
piness might thus be banished? 'Clarence,
if you would but try it !"
* * * . * * * * (
Sarah Spencer had finished her work in
the kitchen, and in the bed chamber, and
sat down with - hel- work in her lap. But
she could not ply her needle. Her heart
was heavy and sad, and tears were in her
Presently she heard the front door open.
and a step in the passage. Certainly she
knew that step ! Yes--her husband cuter
ed, and a smile upon his face. She saw it
through her gathering tears, and her heavy
heart leaped up. And h'e came and put his
arms round her neck, and kissed her; and
he said to her, in broken accents: "Darling,
I have come home to thro., down the bur
den I took away with me this morning. It
is greater than I can bear !"
And she, trying to speak, pillowed her,
head upon his bosom, and sobbed and wept
like a chilil. Oh! could he forgive her?
His coming with the blessed offering nad
thrown the burden of reproach back upon
herselt. She saw him noble and generous,
and she worshipped hin.
But Clarence would not allow her to take
all the blame. Ie nmust share that.
"We will share it so evenly." he said,
"that it's weight shall he felt ino more. And
now, my darling, we will he happy."
And the lesson was never needed again.
K'ING.CHARLES AND HIS FOOL.
This goodhfellov's influence was so great
that Charles King of France, once remark
ed to him he thought they had better
change places. As Jean did not look well
pleased at the proposal, Charles asked him
it ho were not content:at the idea of being a
king. Oh, content enough, was the reply,;
"but I should be exceedingly :ashamed at
having such a fool!" It was this fool who
once tried his master's nerve by rushing :in
to his room one morning with the exclama
tion: Oh, sire, such news'.! Four thousand
men have risen in the city!" "'What?"~
cried the startled king. With what inten
tion have they risen ?" "Well," said Jean,
placing his finger upon his nose, " prdbably
with the intention of lying dowvn again at
LIFE IS SWEET.
Life with all its joys and sorrows, its
smiles and tears, its mingled cup of bitter
and sweet, sunshine and storm, of prosper
ity and adversity, is the common lot of mor
tals, yet who but feels some happiness now
and then, even in such a world as this?
Some tell us that this is but a gloomy vale;
that nothing but prickly thorns, and poison
ous weeds, and dark and dismal clouds are
seen over our mortal sky. . Sometimes, in=
(deed, the tempest darkens the heavens
above, and the icy breath of winter robs the
earth of its rich beauties and greenness, but
the sun soon breaks through the clouds and
the ,warm ibreath of gentle spring .restores
the wonted greenness of the earth. So it is
after sorrow, and tears, and bitter .grief ; the
dark clouds are quickly dispelled by the
sunshine of happiness. In sickness how
sweet to feel returning health, and how
dearly prized the bounties of providence af
ter having for a season known want. There
are but lew whose experience has not shown
them that there is snore real happiness and
joy than sorrow and pain. Yes, it is very
sweet to live in a world of -so much beauty.
No wonder that the heart is sometimes filled
to overftowiitg with 'iure joy, when the eye
beholds the r'ich glory of earth and 'sky. It
is sweet to feel. the charms of nature. It Is
sweet to enjoy the pleasures of social inter
course, but to the real of the covenantat is
sweeter tfar to die and iput on immortality,
and go to a world where the skies are al
ways cloudless, 1Mihere sorrow and joy are
THE FEWNESS OF WOMEN'S WANTS.
Mar' Dean, in Lippincott's Magazine, says
"women -make a" success of business ven
tures when they undertake any, because'
they are cautious, fowNd of accumrulating.
and have inexpensive haibits. Women are
rich in the fewvpess of their wants." Oh, to
be sure-certainly-of course. All that she
wants, when the Spring-time comes, gentle
Mary, is a two dollar bonnet with eight
dollars' worth of feathers and flowers stuck,
on it, and a tweity-two dollar princesse
dress, with ruffles three rows leep, and gar
nishedl with ten dollars' worth of fly fringe,
and an evening dress with eleven feet oft
train and a beaded sacqulte, ald a pongee
traveling dress. and lace handkerchiefs, an,
seven-button kid gloves, all clocked stoc.k
ings, and her arais full bf bangles, and a few
other.trifles of dress. That Is all.
'A man," Maiy snys, "must have cigars,
newspapers, and a thousad other things
'ihat women do not want." True again. A
mtlnl-the "average" mnanl, that is-mnu~t
have his culp at. tilhe barber shop, and a plug
of tobac.o, alnd-aild a pistol pocket, tall-
anuld-und blame if we can think of the other
nilne hundred and niniety-seven things a wo
man doesn't want that a man does. Al.
yes; we recall one other tlhing. Hie must
hlave a wife, and pretty often she is more
expensive thatr. ll the other nine hundredl
and ninety-nine combined. Now, who ever
heard of a woman wanting a cup at the bar
ber's, or a pistol pocket, or a wile ?
Again: "A man bannot take out his old
lineil sitain the Spring, and rip them, make
them over, and do them up himself." Well,
probably he can't; for the chance pre that
his wife trated' them off In the Fall for
plaster-of-Paris dogs, deformed angels, and
such. "Women," she continues, " read not
the Times, but the Eternities." The "Eter
nities" must he a new name for the nov.k
of Ouida, Mrs. Southworth and Agusta J.
&vans, which sonme women are eternally
renting. ~But, after all, woman is a greit
antdl.glorious institution, and if she had nev
er been borntnan would have to invent but
tonless shirts and pants.-Norristown Herald.
It is strange how crowded two young
men will make the parlor seem on Sunday
'Elizabeth Allen, in r, poem, asks: "Oh!
Willow, why forever weepy" Elizabeth is
a little mistaken as to the'facts. 'It isn't the
willow that weeps, it's the boy who dances
under the willow end of it.
"'Just think of my ill luck,' be said. "At
one of the crowded stations I lost both my
gold headed cane .and.my wite." Be was
silent for afew grief stricken moments, and
then added, in tearfdl tones, "And it was a
bran new cane, too:'
A party were enjoying the evening breezs
on board a yacht. 4'The wind has made
my moustache taste quite salti" remarked a
young man. ' I knew it," innocently sail
a pretty girl who was-sitting hear by. And
she wondered why all her friends laughed.
"Another old citizen gone." We saw
him only this morning, too-with a rob
over 'his shoulder. His siep was firm antl
elastic, his cheeks blooming'with health, anu
his pistol pocket bulging out with a recepý
tacle containing bait or: something. And
now he's gone-gone a fishing.
An editor i described as a man who is lia
ble to errors in grammar, typographical er
rors and lapses of!memory, and has several
thousand people watching to catch hits
tripping-a man of sorrow and' acquaintet
with grief; poorly clad, poorly estimated,,
yet envied by some of the great men he has
A lady in .Madison, Wis., not exactly
posted on the word d" disfranchised," was
told that Mr. Smith was dilsfranchiised, and
she wanted toqknow how' long he had 'been
so." On beink iuformed that he had been
so for about four years, sbe said she didn't
see how that could be, for Mrs. Smith had
a child only two years old.
During the hot weather in Chicago, a girl
of sixteen or thereabouts, very gauzily at
tired, boarded a Lincoln aveinue street car,
and plumped herself down upon a seat to
which the sun had been devoting individual
attention. In a few seconds she sprang up,.
searched 4n vain for fire, blushed, sat dowl
again, and gazed slervonsly into vacancy.
The sympathetic conductor hurried to het
side and asked her what was the matter.
"Mind your business," she jerked out pet
tishly, and the conductor went aft to media.
tare on what ailed her.
""Low and mighty: master and Than;
Labor and do your best I'
Think you can do it,. and do it you San
God will take care of the rest I'
-Show may be easily purchased, but hapm
piness is always a home-maade article.
-One of the great aids or hindrances t6
success in anythiing lies in the temperament
of a man.
-Here are two pithy sayings from the
Oriente "Disgrace is an ill-omened bir~J no
cage'cis hold." And again c "Modesty is
a sweet song4bird ;no open cage-door can
tempt tio flight."
--A god name is best won by good deeds;
There is no sure way of being Well thoughs
of ex:cept by deserving wIell. 'You have a
liltle woreld before you," wrote Daniel Webý
ster to a friend; "fill it with good deeds and
you will till it with your own glory."
-''The great high-road of human welfare
lies :tlon~ the old highway of steadfast wells
4lEoiIg, and'they who are the most persistent
anti work in the tritest spirit will invariably
be the most successful; success treads an
the heels oft every right efftort.
--The only part of the conduct of any one
in which e' is amenable to society, Is that
which concerns others. I t!.e part wlnch
merely concerns himself, his ndlependentm
Is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his
own body and mind, the lndlvidual Is sove.
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