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0 wll MM, :&J$ i. mzm 1W fw wlfqp w S THE EASTER CHIMES. A Tale from the Russian of Kovclonko. i riT WAS! tUn nieht ' h ''( t . 3J before the Easter t -."i-ifM,"."-''' morning. The lit tle village by the murmuring creek was half hidden In ri.v t mvstir.nl vn- fl6VW f Pory, starry gloom of a Russian night in springtime. The Kpiahboiing v.-ood Hung Ll-ckert shad ows on the fields bf-side it. All was silent. The village slur.iberoil. Hours passed, and long before the night was gone Its still charm wa3 broken. Lights began to glimmer in the windows of cottages whoso wretch edness was disguised in the bewitching springtime glcom o? right. A gate creaked. The tread of a foot was heard here and there. Moving figures, darkly outlined, emerged from the shades of the wood. A dog barked, and then an other and another. Then a horseman clattered along the village street. A passing cart groaned and creaked under its early morning burden. The darkly outlined figures Increased In number. The villagers be gan to gather In their church to bid welcome to the spring holiday. It was a quaint little church. It stood npon a hillock In the middle of the vil lage. All at onco Its windows glowed dimly among the shadows. Then their brightness increased. The church was all alight. High Into the darkness overhead reached the old belfry tower. Its top was lost in the azure gloom. Then the rickety belfry stairs began to creak. Old Michcleh, the bollringer. wap clambering aloft. Soon his lantern hung in the bell window, shining like a new etar In the sky. It was hard for the old man to climb those steep and crooked stairs. His old eyes no longer served him, and he, like they, was worn out. As he climbed, he pondered. It was time Indeed, he thought, that he should rest. But God would not send him death. He had seen his children burled. He bad stood by the open graves of his grandchildren. He had followed the old to their last resting place. He had THE BELLRINGEli WAS CLAMBER ING ALOFT, followed tho young there, too. But till he lived and lived. It was hard. Many a time had he welcomed the Easter morning so many times that he could not recall them all. He had even forgotten how often In later years he had hoped for death In this same old helfry, as now he hoped for it. And "yet this early morning God bad brought Dim there once more. It was cot yet time for him to ring lm vmav naali onH thn rlA man tnH. M 10 me Deury wjduow ana leaneu out orer the railing. Below him in the darkness could dimly see the neg lected graves. The white wooden cross- es at their heads seemed to be guarding them with their widestretched arms. Here and there a few birch trees bent naked branches forlornly over the mounds and the aromatic odors of their young buds arose on the silent air to Mlcheich's nostrils. They bore to him a tale of tranquil, eternal sleep. Where would he bo a year from that moment? Would he be there again? Would he have once more climbed into that tower under the clamorous copper bells to awaken the slumbering night with their sharp, resounding strokes? Or would he lie out there In a dark corner of tho cemetery with a white cross guarding his everlasting sleep? Cod alone knew. He was ready to die but in the meantime Cod had brought him into the belfry once more to wel come the Master morning. "To the glory of God!" Ilia ola lips repeated the oft spoken '-:Mmi t...:,t. 111'; if,! I : .. III3 SEIZED THE BELL ROPES, formula, and his old eyes gazed Into the deep sky above, burning with Us millions upon millions of stars. "Micheich! Oh, Michelch!" The voice came from below. It was the old sexton, who had come from the church into the graveyard beneath the tower and who was gazing upward, with his hands shading his blinking, tear moistened eyes In vain effort to make out the form of the bellrlnger In the darkness overhead. "What do you want?" answered old Michelch, bending over the railing. "I am here. Can't you see me?" "I do not see," cried the sexton. "Is It not time to ring? What do you think?" Both gazed upon the stars. Thou sands of Cod's lanterns were blinking at them from the firmament The night was waning. Michelch thought. "No, not yet." he sr.id. "Walt awhile. I know when." But it was time to salute the Easter morning. Old Michelch gazed at the stars onco more, and then arose. He removed his hat, crossed himself and gathered up the bell ropes. A moment more and the night air shivered under the first resounding stroke. Then came the second, the third, the fourth. The lightly sleeping Easter air quivered with the Joyous mush of the shouting, singing bells. Then the bells ceased. The solemn service began In the church below. In bygone years Michelch had always gone down to the service and stood In a corner near the door, praying and lis tening to the music. But It was hard for him to do this now. He felt tired. So he sat down on the bench beneath the copper bells and listened to their waning resonance. He thought. About what? Michelch himself could hardly answer the ques tion. His glimmering lantern scarcely lit up the belfry. He could not make out the droning bells. They were lost in darkness. From the church below his old ears caught the singing now and then. The old man's gray head '7 ymYY r'nn I "a sank upon his chest. Disconnected scenes from the past swarmed in his mind like bees In the hive. "Ah!" he said as the music of the Easter hymn drifted up the tower stairs, "they are singing the troparion." In his Imagination he sang that hymn, again a youth, In the old church below. Tho little old priest, Father Naum. many years dead and burled, once more was Intoning the end of a prayer, while children's voices united In the responses. Hundreds of peasants bowed and arose like corn before the wind. Now they crossed themselves devoutly. The old familiar faces were of those long since dead. There was the stern vlsige of his father. There stood his elder brother at the old man's side, sighing deeply and crossing himself again and again. There he himself stool, young, healthful. 6trong, Joyful, full of expectation of a life's happiness. Where was that happiness now? The old man's thoughts flickered up like a dying flame. Recollection Illu mined all the nooks and corners of Y.s life. And all he saw was endles3, ceaseless, merciless labor labor far be yond his strength. He saw sorrow, too much sorrow and suffering unutter able. Ah. where Indeed was that happiness of which he had dreamed? The burdens of life had wrinkled his young face, had bent his powerful back before the time had come. They had made the Joyous boy sigh as his elder brother had sighed. There on the left, among the women of the village, with her head humbly bent, he saw his sweetheart. She was a good woman. May the peace of God be with her soul! Oh. the pain that she had suffered! Want and work and woman's woes had withered her glowing womanhood. Her eyes had grown dim with years nnd weeping. The shocks and blignts of life had painted a dull fright upon her comely face. Ah, where was her happiness? God had given them one son, their Joy, their very soul, and he was grouad to his death by men's Injustice. The picture broadened and grew vivid In the old man's mind. He saw standing In his pew the rich enemy of the family, bowing his head to the very ground, glossing over In his prayers the wrongs of the widows and orphans whose lives he had blighted in his selfish greed. Michelch felt his heart grow hot within him now, as it had done then, while the dark faces of the holy ft' HAD FALLEN HELPLESSLY. Images on the altar frowned sternly upon man's sorrows and man's injus tice. But all this was long, long passed. All this was far away In the old times. And now all the wide world for him was this dark tower, where the wind sighed gently among the swinging bell ropes. "Let God Judge you! God will Judge you!" whispered the old man, thinking of his enemy. Silent tears ran down his cheeks. "Michelch! Ah, Michelch! What is tkt matter with you? Are yoa asleep?" The voice came from the churchyard without. , "Good God!" cried the old man, re memborlng tho further duty that awaitei him. "Did I really till asleep?" IIe seized the bell ropes and pulled them ith skillful fcand. Far below the people swarmed from the church, as ants swarm from the ant nll, Golden standards reared them selves la the air of the unborn Easter morning. Forming as a cross, the pro cession began to move around the church, amid Joyful cries of "Christ has risen from the dead!" The words went to the old bellring er's heart, and glancing out he was exalted jn spirit. It seemed to him that the waxen candles that the people bore blazed Wtn Buddenly increased bril liance in the gray darkness, that the throng moved more and more swiftly, that the standards waved the more Joy ously, and that the awakening wind lifted up the Joyful chorus from below and turned it to the bell's brazen peals with a sweetness superhuman. evcr did Michelch ring the bells with such Joy and spirit. It seemed as if his old heart had been welded Into the dead copper of those bells, which laughed and sang and wept at the entrancing melody that rose to the stars above. And the stars seemed to fairly blaze with Joy of It as the music poured upward into heaven and fell backward to caress the earth. What a hymn of Joy it was those bell3 pealed forth. The great bass deafened the sky with the grand brazen cry of "Christ has risen." And the tenors, struck to their hearts, shouted sonor ously, "Christ has risen!" while the clanging sopranos, as though fearing their lesser voices should be lost to the grand chorus, hurriedly, like gleeful children trying to outstrip each other, screamed a thousand times, "Christ has risen!" And that sad old heart forgot its care3, Its sorrows, and Its insults. The gray bellrlnger heard only the brazen music, now singing, now weep ing, now floating to the starry sky, now sinking to the wretched earth; and It seemed to him that he was surrounded by his children and his grandchildren and that these were their happy voices tho voices of old and young to gether pouring out in one grand chorus a hymn of Joy and rapture. So the old bellrlnger pulled the ropes with strong, nervous arms while tears poured down his cheeks and his heart ran fairly over with a happiness he had r.ever known before. And below the people listened, and they said to each other that Michelch had never rung so wonderfully before. Then suddenly the great bass bell hesitated and was silent. For a mo ment the others sang an unfinished, un certain harmony. Then they, too, ceased, and there was silence save for the low, sad, trembling droning of their sMlle.i hut still resonant throats. Tiie gray bellrlnger had fallen nelpA lessly on the bench beside the rope3, and two tears silently rolled over his pal? cheeks. Send a substitute! The old bell ringer has rung himself out. Tor Kater. RISE! This day shall shine for evermore, To thee a star di- .'-V, 'jtJZrZfti" vine on Times : r.f dark shore! VSA'' Till now thy soul has been a11 vV ,v. glad and gay; Bid it awake and and look at Grief to-day! But now the stream has reached a dark, deep sea; And sorrow, dim and crowned, Is walt $ ins thee. Each of God's soldiers bears a sword divine: Stretch out thy trembling hands to-day for thine! Then with slow, reverent step and beat ing heart,. From out thy Joyous day thou mu3t depast And, leaving all behind, come forth alone. To Join the chosen band around the throne. Ral3e up thine eyes! Be strong! Nor cast away The crown that God has given thy soul to-day! Faster liar?. About Easter time hares are almost as common as eggs In the shop win dows, and many boys and clrla mav wonder why this is so. It is Dlain whr the egg should be used. The life which comes, after so lone a time, from thn lifeless-looking egg, makes ft especially typical or tbe resurrection. It Is not 60 clear what the hare has to do with Ea3ter Sunday. Easter is a feast regulated br the moon. That Is, It is appointed by the church that Easter should fall "upon the first Sunday after the first full moon which fell upon or after tho vernal equinox." Now, the hare is the animal which the ancients considered sacred to the moon, and proper to be used at all feasts regulated by the moon. So among the old customs which have been handed down to us from th old, old days Is that which still uses the hare as well as the egg in the pretty fancl. ful decorations suitable for our great spring festival. Easter Sunday. No greater thing can be done than to love God and keep hit command ta"at. When Trailing, Whether on pleasure bent, or business, take on every trip a bottle of Byrup of Figs, as it acts most pleasantly and effectually on the kidneys, liver, and bowels, preventing fevers, headaches, and other forms of plckness. For sale In 60 cent and $1 bottles by all leading druggists. Manufactured by the Cali fornia Fig Syrup Company only. Ambltlon-a kind of egotism Is behind all achievement and all excellence. Bicycle riders, football players and athletes generally, find a hovereign remedy for the hprains and bruises and cuts to which they are constantly liable, in Dr. Thomas' Eclectric OiL Then) it no ouch thin? as becoming rich without giving away anything. 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