A id x v hi bcliive it is as cruel as burning him up n a railway « reck, or — " "Perhaps the moment of falling, when you shook him off your .skirt was ages long ;■' his experience of time. Perhaps the instant that the shadow of your fool hung over him was lifelong " "Oh, perhaps, and [x-rhaps il is all perhapses!" "Well, it isn't 'perhaps' thai it is an al«urdity for us with our finii ■ ! " attempt to measure the purix>ses of an infinite intelligence." "But that is an empty shiblioleth- finite and infinite." "Say great beyond conception then. The Maker of the universe must have been that. And it seems to me that if we can'l tell Ihe reason for the suffering we see. it is only rational, in view "t" the innumerable blessings ive see, to take it for granted thai then- is a reason, and a « ISC oni •■There may U- a reason for death Ii puts an end to things," said Mrs. Flanders, pulling t" pieces the r sin -i'<>\ evil." 1 oh. I can't. No one can I ran only say thai death is so universal that it can't l>e regarded i>y the great Dispenser as an evil; and thai pain and suffering ma) be such concentrated purification as to !>e most merciful and full ■>! love; >\t>\ thai even sin may be .. casting off "t the old serpent', -kin " '•That's all so fan iful. We can't govern our Ii es liry stories. I■■ ■• in pain and stiffening? As it I would hurt my • instance 1 " ■ \'.,u v ould, i in order to be oi sen i> c t" him "I would have ted I ty of being i< ■■ it [had ' ■■ And so have mi ■ ■ -d om reatest jitysof life." "Dear me, it's past midnight 1 mi keeping you 1 A ■ : to talk 1 prejudiced. I i i I a partii le And it all am »vi For if . ■ | ■ •.• \ ! 1 :-;ale\ o lent; and if He If I did not ki I t H ijjhi yin l'-ve I ; ■ . I hear you i ■ : this moment, H . ■ t I thing, Mary : is I an Be , •. • 1 ■ all about me. Il ' ii .v it :"i' eption." Isn't it Am 1i • • There is a ; f the id Baron d'Holbach Well, (V •■! di»ln I gi • me, any in H v •■ fIH ial sense. It . • . | tart ial ■■ : H 1 1 if you st : i/ing God, it i« ized your o jht instead, _\- »ii'd In i happiei ;■ • n "And ■ >uld you I ■:;.,. • \ ■■. ■! ik< to say "\,i Bul 1 l unsettle ;:. \ belief in •ha ' foil when you ha tter 1 "Then I' '!"■■■ unsettle your lielief? ' she asked, laughing 'Not an atom I don't believe I hold your hand at this moment, th >ugh ! close my eves I know I do. oh. yes, when you i m make one single blade of grass gi . • v'ou may h.i ■• the right t,> question as you do ti. ■ ].•,■■■■, • .. ■.■. ■ the whole earth in living green. Although I don't thii k v »v wo ■. then." "Making gra^s grow isn't my husiii "The rebellious live in a dry land, Helen." •Hark' Hark' Mary! That's Paul. Oh. oh. did you he.v him till' He's come hutnc — nut himself again!" " The poor, p 1 >"i" I'- »y! " "Oh, my heart, what will become of him' If you hadn't seer, him 1 never would peak „| it He is mv idol. He i^ his father over again 1 have reasoned with him, l>egged him, promised him It's all no use' You see? " ■ Is there ii.. thin.; else t*. do?" '•Tell me! Tell me, if there is. I will do it!" and she wrung her white hands. "Helen, you might pray for help " "You are mo, king me' To what- To whom? Is a shadow — " "Assume that it i> there It will cease to lie a shadow. It will In, .inie real." "Mary Bruce, did you ever have an answer to any prayer? " "Often. I have thought. And when I did nut have the thing I asked, I had help t.. do without it. something sweeter always than the thing I asked. Helen, dear, let rea >ning go to the winds Only feel! Just as you love this l>oy, l»elieve that »"•■•e so sure of a great, sweet, listening, helping power thai you will leel a protecting arm, everywhere a divine imminence. You will love it. it will comfori you. And it -••ill make no differ ence what name you use. You will feel the strength friend, a father, upholding you. of the Lord of Jove and life! Darling, try to !md God and ask Him |p you." Her voice trembled, and the tears shook from her eve-, as she spoke. "Well." she said in a moment or two, "I must be „tT by the first train. You will be krery tired, so don't come down. I will l>e in to say good-by. M Mrs. Flanders smiled bitterly as the door closed. "It is so easy t.> talk"' she said K"t 'hen her friend hung over her a moment next morning. so many sunbeams altoul her that she might have come out of the blue of the sky, she held her back and whispered "Mary Bruce, there fe nothing left to dv I amgojniitoi Helen Flanders was not a person who did things by halves There being, a.-> she said, nothing else to do c -aept to find God and such help as might come that war, she gave herself up t<> the search. She talked with men who made a science of the same effort She threw aside her prejudices sufficiently to see their faith did for some of '! k "It almost seems." she said to herself, "as il ■ the very tf the soul. or. at ai \ il the soul grew only c had faith Knowledge is .-• simple; l>ut this tiling called faith perpetually feeds and enfolds the soul, as Mary said it would. Ob, why didn't I learn this in the beginning? Why haven *l 1 taught it to Paul?"* From time to time Mary Bruce had sen! her the books of those who bold out the hand to help others climb. She read the gospel of >• John: and when she had rad it once she read it again And all the time she tried -hat prayer, ol such - •: • nutd make, might do. S<>ui. time-, it seemed as though her pett ■ than In : the laugh herself, and I'a-.ii still stumbli il the fate of the sol hanging over him H times she would have -aid that down dark i tughi and re was 111^ a gii' times as it in the next moment so however slight, was t.> be mad< . some g ■ "1 sunburst of di warmth and light i And ye after all, si :ilv half i'e!ie ed in it. On.- night Paul had come in much worse than usual. HER "INFLOONCE" He had stayed in bed with aching temples and .-.':..' if/ hands the next day, and he had said to htmseli la i he was not going to listen to reproaches, and ad sent word to his mother that he wished to t...- He felt Letter toward night, and late in the e\ • • in his dressing-gown and slippers, be went dbwi to his mother's room. He had not seen much ■ mother in these months, having Wen orT with a Irani c party in the West, and when at home avoiding i: views when she was alone. He stepped loftli po for if any of her intimates were with her he did 00l mean to go in; and he poshed the dMH Open gently and half-parted the portiere before he stopped, startle* 1 . and struck stone still. His mother was kneeling at her table, her dark b ur half-fallen about her face, which waa white i:i moonlight that streamed over her and shone in ': er uplifted eyes. To hi.-> amazement hi, moth woman who had valued herself for her common-dense, for her clear sight, for her wit. her aflpi ism. "as praying, was praying as n to a Earn lai friend, beseeching, with tears pouring help for her son's soul He felt in that swift instant that a nronl his heart. He dropped the curtain, ami repl an 11 softly as he had come. And in ail tb . kne that night no sleep visited him. It was late the next morning -.'.!;■ he ••.••■• ■ to his mothers room The {-lace was foO •■: dowers and fragrance, but at he looked at hei mother seemed more than all the sunshine it: world. He went to the wind and looked ' 0 the space where the blue sky soared into q distance. Mother. " he said. "I have come to tell you that, no matter at what cost, from to-day I will m drink another drop •: this accursed start U I has so nearly broken jam heart and wrought :..v ruin'" , "Oh, Mary Bruce." the mother wrote that tßgh\ to her friend. "1 have had an answer to prayer believe, because I have seen. Blessed are those wh • nave not seen and yet have believed. But that w.i ■ not given me. I an only the wild olive grafted ■ I am in the lower ■: lei ol souls yet." And Mary Bruce replied -'It is not the lower of souls thai finds its way out oi darkness in) not for the lake ol itself, bat for the sake ol ai By Howard M..rKle H. Wen down th* lane Matildy corse.. Th' swallows go a-twitter. An' hollyhocks lean o'er th' fenc 5 To see so sweet a critter. Wen her light footsteps n«-a. bridge. That's down beside th' pas Th' brooklet gets more pur' Th' ripples dance th' fa eft Th' baskets hangin' on ' Co to an' fro a -swing, Like pinions of a happy tiH To summer lans a-wir.-; Wene'er she speaks, howt v, Th' bees begin a-hummin An' seems as if her voice h«i Th' strings of harps a-th; ' }*• If she but passes nigh th' fie;b Were I'm betimes a-sow; My heart goes pulsin' like a • With autumn winds a-blo>- If I was her an' she was me. Each to th' other turnin*. W'y she would know then • sbe sets All round about her yea. . An* so las* week I told her Th' tnfloonce she was shfi^-i' Would lead her, sure - iv— could be. All lovely to a weddin'. An* w'en she asked me who -voiii be Her eyes amoosement spilii-'- I told her she might easy sec Some one who was most ariDV. Wen I walk 'side her up the lisle. With maids June posies bringin'. Th' whole creation will jine m Th' hymn th' choir's a-5 ; ngin'.