'I
■Ml-. :•
'i-:
rp
I'l 5 11
if^ if 5 S 4"
I ’ fi I . '" •■ ■
!i ’-i; 'I . ;;. J:
.... . K,|
s' ‘f i
i r r;f
!’ii- '
r*' #‘!-
u;k.,4r '
2
THE MASONIC J O U K N A 1.
Not Knowing.
I know not wliar w li he.ali nu*;
God iinngs a mist o‘er my oye >
And at e.icii st p in my on\vai\i path
He makes ne*v scenes t > ri>e,
Aod e^ery joy H * s:-n s me
Comes as a gl id s irprise.
I se * not a step before me
As I tread .h^ days of die year;
B it the past is s ill m G id’s a eping,
The fa; Lire Mis m j cy shall eh-ar,
And wh it looks dar: in the dist nice
>Iay b igateii as I draw near.
For perhaps the dre.ade 1 f irnre
iia'le-s bittiTiioss than I think;
The L ird may sweet mi ihe w iters
Berdr ‘ I scoop o drink ;
Or, ifMir.ih most lie Maran,
H* will sta jfl bes.de its brink.
It may be he is waiting
F.»r the comnig of my feet;
Some of ram bles -v. Ine-s,
S -ni' j y s:} strangely sweet,
Tliat my bps can on y trem de
With the ih.ioks t i y caLiiot .-peak.
Oh, ! restful, bUssf li ign >rance !
It is bl ssed noc to : n >vv:
It ke ‘P'm ■ q de in tli s ' a ’ins
IF nidi will n 11 t me o
And liusMi s my soul to rest
On t e bosom that loves me so.
So I go on n >t know' ig—
I would not if I mi^ht,
I wo 11 rat er walk i i the dark with G,»d
Than .^'o alo m in t e light ;
I w.)ul ! rather wa’k vvitii him by faith
Tiuin walk a'oue by sight.
My ' eart shrinks back from 'rials
Wliii.'h (he future in ly disc ose;
Yet I iKwer had a s rr >w
B it what th ‘ dear Lor 1 cho>e ;
S.) 1 s nd the oomi ig te ir» tack
Widi the whisp'M-e I word “He kiiow.s.”
The Dwarfed Cali Boy.
“Will yo',1 ple.ise liiv? tins part dead
■ perfeiJl at rehearsal to-inorro'v, Miss?'’
The speaker was the call-boy of the
. only theatre of a western town.
The girl to whom ho handed the part
was tall an 1 slignt of phisiqne. Her
features were pale as marble, but trams-
cendently lovely—one might airnost risk
the expression “lovely as an angel's, ’
Tne deep telling eyes scanned the man-
uscripr. of the part, and a look of dismay
lit lip their depths.
“Mercy I" slie iniirmiired . “It is im-
pcsoible. Rehears il is called at 10
o'clock shaep. Mother lies in a ragino
fever, which threatens her brain, and
here are twenty lengths at least. It is a
hard lie!" and a weary sigh followed,
as the young girl took up her satchel
and drew her threadbare sliawl around
: her fragile fig”.re. “Goo.l uig'at, Denny,”
she said, in return to the salutation of
the old door keeper as she quitted the
theatre.
“B,i careful, dear,” he replied, “he's
there again,” and he jerked his thumb
over his shoulder with a warning ges
ture.
A .sha le crossed her features, and her
mouth worked determi-ietlly as her eyes
flashed, and a slight flush tinged her
white cheeks. The warning evidently
disturbed her. Young as she was, hers
had been the fate of so many on the stage
She had an almirer whom she scorned;
but, having no brother, she wa.s unpro~
tected, save by that mother who now lay
at the point of death.
The night was cold, and Bessie Darling
(her stage name, the real one being
withheld), was scantily clad. As she
reached the street she looked up at the
stars, which glittered in the sky like
polished steel. She shivered and has
tened on. The slight snow upon the
pavement creaked crisply beneath her
tread. At the corner a young man in
tercepted her and raised his hat.
he said, removing his
lea.su re of
f "Good evening
cigar; “a.iv I not h.ive the
seeing yon home ?’’
She made no reply but .str ive
OB.
to
“Don't be food.sh.” he said, ottering his
arm; “Yon ki.ow I would not harm
yon.” ^
“Yonr aid is not needed, ' she replied,
“anii vour conipnnv is nnplea.sanl. Let
me pass. My mother is very ill — per-
hajis living at lids very nioinenl.''
"All the more reason why yon .should
have help," he returned. "Allow me to
offer any service in my power." He
drew a roll of greenback.s from his (lOcket
and held them toward lier.
"I do not require voiir luoney, sir I
would not accejit it to save ins' mother's
I life, rniich a.s 1 love her. Let me pass,
I or [ shall call for aid."
He sneered.
"It is late, he said ; “the streets are
deserted ; yon are alone, aii.i none will
hear yoiii appeal "
"Oh, yes they w'll !" It was the call-
bor ol the theatre wiio .-'poke
The young man tnrne.l to the new
comer. Hevvasasi., nlar per.sonage—
(I varied in stature, ivith a head much
too large for the dimutive hodv.
Whom have I the honor to aiMress'f"
inquired the young blood, scornfully.
"ihats neither here nor there. " was
the reply. "But if Miss Dirling will
allow me, I will .see t.h it she is r,o longer
detained by unpleasant meddlei-.s, "
"Ho! Iio!" laughed the other; 'a
Quasimodo to protect hi.s Esm.-'raidv.'
Tne dwa'-f hit his lips an I turned as
pale as death.
“Look on: that you do not meet the
fate of the recreant pr est. '
"We are not in Pari.s," relorte.l the
blood, "and there are no toweius of Notre
Dame at hand."
"Will Miss D irling accept my escort
home? I will protect her from tlii.s
•sneaking bully,”
“I II thra,sh ' ou williin an inch of your
lite lor this insolence you crooked I,-acked
churl. Take Iiial I’’
He launched a heavy blow at the m.an-
ikin's head, but thr- little fellow darted
nimbly aside.
“I am no match for you at fisticuffs,”
he iiisscd, “hut I have not played the
Sprite for nothing.”
The next instant he started forward,
and plantirg his head full in the stomach
of his antagonist, hurled him over the
embankment where they stood. The
blood was unable to save himself Down,
down, he f-ll. and striking ni,s head fore
most on the bank of the river, lay insen
sible
“My God f you have killed him,”
whispered Bessie.
“Not mnoh loss, mis.s. But the devil
aids such as he. He is worth a score of
dead men yet. B it let ns hasten or he
may recover, and he would make it as
hot as Hades for me.’’
Half an hour later Becsie sat watching
her delirious mother. As she removed
and replaced the icy cloth upon the burn
ing forehead, she ever and anon applied
herself to learning the part that she must
be perfect in on the morrow. Not a wink
of sleep was hers that night, and when
she appeared at rehearsal the red eyes
and feverish cheeks told of that studious
vigil by her mother's bed.
That night Bessie Darling took the
town by storm.
The play was ended.
The curtain rang down on a heart that
little reckoned the floral offerings or the
1... j 1... ,1 , ,, - . , .
The reaction was terrible. The poor | Would you kiss me
gill was stricken down herself, and when
tlie nioUiei was buried by ilie kind mem-
pass | bers of I he ooinpauy, the daughter was
j ne.nv a fit. subject to occupy the same
loud epplause that called her before the
green scene ; for as she returned to the
prompter’s bos news reached Bessie that
her mother was dead.
resiing place
Time uas.sed, am! slowly the yoiuig
girl recovered E.icli day during the in
terval the invalid found a fresh boqnet
upon tlie table by lier bed. At first she
refused to look at lliem, thinking that
iheywere but new importnnities from
l-im wlioui she so utterly detested But
thi.s was nut tne case, as she shortly
found. Tile timely less-n to the young
liliertine had proved favorable to her
and iisefni to hi.a He never troubled
Be.s.-ie ag,iii . Therefore the flowers were
not lron liiui,
"Who cuiiM it be’:’” she asked the
nurse ; luil. she profe.ssed ignorance, and
stated that tile boqiieis were left on the
dooistep H.u'lv every iiioriiiiig.
Fiinllv Bessie was able to attend to
duty oime more. What pleasure it was
to meet i he kindly greeting of her friends
a.s she .ippeared at reliearsal, Each mem
her of lue compHn.’ strove to outdo llie
(ll her in .'tteritiuns. One brought a seal
near the wines ; aiiotlier drew her shawl
closer around her .shoulders, fearing that
she would catch cold. I’oor Jackeii, the
dwarfed call bov, irsi.sted on bringing lier
a lillle Warm wine (his panacea for everv
tronhie). The uianagei greeted her, and
told her tliat her fort line was assured;
he wasabonl to pro.luce a new seiis-ition-
al drama ii which she was Oast as the
heroine. In tact her clip of joy seemeil
full to the bnrn. (No ii-ialion that to
Jacken's panacea, for that had been dii..--
jiosed ef with many thanks, at which the
p )or hilow'.s face turned red to the tops
of ins ponderous ears.)
T'iie dav for the I ehearsal of the new
play arrived. In the last scene a telling
effect, w.is to be produced, waere the he
roiiie was tlirovvn from a precipice bv the
villain of the piece. In ta ling.-he lodg
es in u pine tree, while lie. losing his bai
ance, topples from the cuff and is slain.
'T'll try that tree myself first. Miss
Be.ssie," siiggesteil the call boy, “to see
that It i,s secure. Mr. Jones, will yon gj
tlirongli the business with me?”
“Certainly ; although I don't think
that yon make a charming substitute for
tlie heroins," laughed the heavy man.
Bo up the scatfolding they went. The
struggle ensued. The orchestra gave
the chore, and with a heavy lnii(je the
dwarf fell in the aby.ss
A shriek ensued from the ladies, and
the strong men sickened. The villain
(laiised in horror, for the tree had broken,
and poor Jacken hail fallen through the
trap with a harsh thud.
Friends hastened to his aid, and he was
borne to the stage stunne'l and bleeding.
The doctor of he theatre who wa.s fires-
ent, shook his head.
"His spine is broken,” he said, “hu
man aid cannot save him.”
“0, don't say so !” moaned Bessie, who
was wiping the blood from a deep wound
in the poor boy’s head.
The closed eyes Opened and a happy
light lit their vision.
“It’s all over, Miss Bessie,” he mur
mured, "and I dont know but what I am
glad of it.”
“Poor boy, poor boy,” she said, smooth
ing back his curly hair.
"Mother used to do that, and her touch
was no gentler than yours. 0, I am so
glad !”
Bessie’s tears rattled down upon the
upturned face.
“Don’t cry,” he said, “it’s better as it
18. You never could have loved me as
I have you, and I am more shapeless
now than I should have been had I hved,
a 1 '“r the
flowers lelt; yon, too, must die.”
Be.ssie pressed a kiss on the lips of tl
dying hoy, and with that last benison th!
waudenng spirit sought its God.
Wileit it Costs to Write
Cil,
Excellence is not matured in a
and the cost iff it is an oM aorv Jh'
beginning of Plato s ‘Eepiiblic ” it, j.,
Was lonnd in iiis tablets written over and
over in a variety of ways. Addisoi,, we
are told, wore out the patience of l,ig
printer; frequently when neaily a whole
impression of a Spectator was workeii off
he would stop the pie.ss to insert a new
proposition. Lamb’s most sportive eg.
says wet-is the result of mo.st inte.,se
brain wo, k ; lie need to spend a week at
a time in elaborating n single liimioroiig
letter to a I'riiud. Tennyson is lepnried
to have written “Come into the Garden
Maud," more than fiftv times over hefnre
it plea.sed him; ami ' Lockslev Ilalp’
the first draft of which was written in
two days, lie spent the better jiarl of lij
weeks, for eight hours a day, in altering
and poli.sliiiig. Dickens, when lie iniend-
e'l to write a Cliristma.s story, shut h|,„.
self up for six weelrs. lived the lifeota
liermit, ami came out looking as haggard
as a tiinrderer. Balzac, alter he had
thought out ilioroiigrilv one of his philo
sophical romances, ami amassen his ma
terials ill a mo.st laborious manner, ."e-
lired to liis study, ami from that nine
until hi.s hook had gone to press, sonietr
saw him no more When be appeared
again among his frietids. he looked, said
his publisher, in the piojnilar phrase, like
his own ghost. The mami.script wa-i af.
terward altered and copn -d, when it pasa-
e,l into the lianiis of the printer, from
whose .sl.jis the book was re written for
the tliiid time. Again it went into the
hands of the printer —two three, and
sometiuie.s four separate pnaofs being re-
qni,-ed before the author’s leave conhl he
got to .send the perpetually rewritten
hook to pre.s-s at .ast, and ,so be done with
it. He was Gterally the teirorof all
printers and editor.s. Moore thongut it
quid-’ work if he wrote seventy liiie.sof
Lalla Rookh in a week. Kinglake’g
Eothen, we are told, \vas re written
five or six times, and was kept in the au
thor s writing desk almost a.s long as
Wordsworth kepit the "White Doe of
Rylstone, ’ md kept, like that to be taken
out for review and correction almo.-t eve
ry day. Bnffon's “(Studies of Nature''
cost him fifty years of laboi, ami lie re
copied it eighteen times before he sent it
to the printer. He composed in a .singu
lar manner, writing on large sized pajier,
in wh'cli, as in a ledger five distinct ■
columns were ruled. In the fir.-t colninn
he wrote down the first thoughts ; in the
second, lie corrected, enlarged, and
primed it ; and so on, until he had reach-
e.i the fifth column, within which he fi
nally wrote tne result of his labor. But
even after th.s he would recomposes
sentence twenty times, and once devoted
fourteen lionrs to finding the proper
word with which to round off a period.
John Foster often snent hours on a single
sentence. Ten years elapi.-ed between
the first sketch of Goldsmith's 'Traveler'
and its completion. La Rochefoucauld
spent fifteen years in preparing his little
book of maxims, altering some of them,
Segrsis says, nearly thirty times. We
all know how Sheridan polished his wit
and finished his jokes, the same thinge
being found on different bits of ■ paper,
differently expressed. Rogers showed
Crab!# Robinson a note to his “Itally,”
which, he said, took him two weeks te
write. It consists of a very few lines.—
A. P. Pmsell.