In the youth of the heart,
lire the glorious ray
That was born of life's moraleg
Hath fadod f way;
Wmio the light Ungers yet
In the eyeti that are dear,
And the voices we love
fltill remain with us here;
While tiio wiurm blood leaps up,
And the lorest resounds
With the ti-osd of the horse
And the bay of the hounds,
Oh, ever and always,
So long as w« may.
ESEABURY’S * TRIALS-1
1 y LUCIB TO. WELSH. O
aELL, now,” said
(i) (U w Mrs. Beaman,
Cv\ V J briskly, to the other
V \ l/o 4 / members of tbe Sow
ing Society, “after
<Vwp we voted at the last
meeting to get a
5v * T® dress for the minis
ter’s wife, I just went up tliere tu see
if anything else was needod.”
“I'vo been thinking,” interrupted
Mrs. Lane, a gentle-faced little wo
man, “that perhaps we'd better give
the money to Mrs. Seabary, and let
her get just what she wants for herself.
What do yon think about it, Mrs. Bea
mon?”
“I don't think nothin’ about it,” re
torted that lady, slmi-ply. “Hhe hain’t
got no judgment, 1 know well enough.
She how rusty that black dress of hers
isl If she’d a bought somethin’ that
wouldn’t get rusty sho'd a showed
judgment, I-say! It wouldn’t be
right to give hor money to spend, and
I, for one, would be against it."
Mrs. Beaman glanced around the
little circle. She was a large, portly
woman, with a massive doable chin
and keen black eyes. Her mouth bad
a habit of shorting tightly, and she
would press her Ups together until
only a line was risible. She was
dressed in a bright blue woolen gown,
made perfectly plain, and ornamented
about the ueok by a rufflo of red Bilk.
She was a wealthy widow, and as
president of the society and the largest
subscriber in the ehuroh, hoo: word
was law with everyone.
Meek Mrs. Lane was the only per
aon who ever dared to argue with her,
and to-day she made a feeble effort to
defend the minister’s wife.
“Perhaps Mrs. Seabary didn’t have
money enough to buy a good black
dress. They must have got awful be
hind with his not preselling for so
long. And really, it doesn’t seem as
if I should want any one to buy a gown
for me.”
She looked around for a supporting
voice, but there was none.
“Well, now 111 tell you just how I
feel about it,” said Mrs. Beaman. “If
I wasn’t a very good judge of dress
good*, and somebody that was should
go and pick me out a dress that would
wear, and wouldn’t fails nor cockle
with dampness nor nothin’, and should
buy it, and pay for it, I should, feel to
be thankful, I know.”
There was a oubdued murmur of :ia
aent from the other women.
M As I was saying when somebody
interrupted me,” went on Mrs. Bea
man, with a severe look at Mrs. Lane,
“I went up to Mis’ Seabury’s to find
out if anything else was needed. Well,
now, I tell you it made me feel bad!
Mis’ Seabury was tryin’ to out out a
dress for Nannie—that’s the one next
to the youngest—and she didn’t have
half>jloth enough. The biggest twin
war walkin' the dishes, and the other
twin was tryin’ to keep the baby from
oryin'. He csrtainly is the fussiest
baby I ever see. He yelled the whole
endurin' time that I was there, bat his
mother said she didn’t think he wee
sick. JThen Johnny had the tooth
ache, and he hollared most of the time,
and Mis’ Beabury was just as patient
with ’em all, and just os perlite to me,
as coold be. I didn’t see the minister,
for he was writing his sermon, but I
did have quite a talk with her. Why,
} they hain’t got nothin’ to wear, and no
money to buy anything with. She.
didn’t want to tell me, but it came out
a little at a time.”
Here she paused fox breath, and
Mrs. Driscoll, a tall, gaunt woman with
a little wisp of hair twisted into a
knob on the back of ber head, mado a
remark.
“They must be awful shiftless peo
ple, I think. I don’t believe she’s got
nos acuity.”
“That ain’t either here nor there,”
retorted Mrs. Beaman. “They hain’t
got no olothas, sure, and that’s more
our business than whether they've got
any faculty.”
She could criticise the minister’s fam
ily herself, but no one else shonld have
the same privilege.
“Well," she continued, “I went
down to Claremont yesterday, and in
to Clarke’s, where I always trade,
they had i piece of goods that was a
bargain. 'lt was a good heavy pieoe
of twill, and 1 by taking the whole pieoe
they let me have it pretty cheap. It
oost considerable more than we in
tended to pny, but I’ll make up the
rest out of my own pocket"
“Why, there’ll be a lot mere’n wa
shall want,” said Mrs. Driscoll.
“No, there won’t be, neither,” an
swered Mrs. Beaman, “for we’ll make
LET US LIVE BY THE WAY,
a dress for every one of ’em, and &
spenoer for Johnnie and a cloak for
that yellin' baby.” And her glance
swept triumphantly around the group.
“Won’t they look kiud of queer, all
dressed alike so?” ventured Mrs. Lane
again.
“I don’t see as they will. They'll
look kind of nice and neat, I think.’’
Mrs. Beaman’s eyes were a trifle
bright, and all her old friends knew
what that portended.
“She’ll bo gettm' mad in a minute,”
they thought. “Then she won’t do
nothin’. It’s her way or no way with
Ann Beaman every time.”
So there was no other dissenting
voice, and the matter was considered
settled.
“We’ll cut and make ’em ourselves,
and yon can come to my house and sow
on ’em. You know the conference
meets with us next month, and we
ought to have ’em done by that time,
so wo’ll have to work fast.”
“What oc(lor did you say the cloth
was?” asked Mrs. Driscoll.
“It’s a kind of a dark plaid, and not
really dark, neither. It won’t fade
aud it won’t wear out for one while, 1
know. Now you all come to-morrow
afternoon, anil we’ll begin. Mis’
White’s about Mis’ Boabury’s size, so
wc’U fit that dress to her. The biggest
twin is abont the size of my Reb&coa,
so we can get that dress easy enough,
aud we’ll make one a little smaller for
the other twin. The rest of ’em we’ll
have to guess at.”
“I do hope the doth isn’t very
bad, * ’ thought Mrs. Lane. * ‘Ann Bea
man hain’t got no more taste thau a
settin’ hen, aud I do think Mis’ Sea
bury would hate to wear anything very
homely.”
She knew it would be of no use to
argue with Mrs. Beaman, so she said
nothing.
A few weeks after this Mrs. Seabury
sat by the window of her little sitting
room trying to amuse the fretfnl baby.
Perhaps if the baby’s mother had had
less o*io and hard work the child
would not have been so fretful. Even
now her mind was filled with worry
abont the children's winter clothes.
They had literally nothing, and the
climate of uurthern Vermont necessi
tates something warm.
“Oh, if we could only get out of
debt, how happy we should bel” she
thoughL
Heir mind went back to that June
day, twelve years ago, when she had
married Mr. Seabary. How bright
and fair everything had beau to them!
To he sure, Mr. Seabury was in debt
for his education, but they were young
and strong aud could soon pay tho
amount. Bat the children came fast.
Then the minister lost his health and
was unable to preach for more than a
year. Tho terrible debt still followed
them, and now, after twelve yeaTs,
they were no more able to pay it than
they ever had been.
Mr. Seabury had no talent for mak
ing friends, and his manner in the
pulpit had become diffident and halt
ing. Perhaps he was discouraged with
hia fruitless struggle against fate. At
any rate, he was thankful to get the
ohanoe of preaohing In the little village
of Danbar, although he knew his
abilities were far beyond the capacity
oi his hearers.
Through nil these unfortunate years
Mrs. Seabury's faith in her husband
had never wavered, and she brought
up her ohildren to venerate him.
Her sod reflections were sud
denly broken into by the entrance of
Esther, tbs largest twin.
“Oh, mother, mother I” she cried
throwing herself at Mrs. Seabury's
feet and bursting into tears. “I never
can bear it in the world! Oh, dear!
Oh, dear!” And her epeech was choked
by an agony of tears.
1 1“ Wluvt is it, Esther darling?” cried
Mrs. Seabury, laying the baby on the
loniige, regardless of its wails. “Tell
mother all abont it, dear.”
It was very unusual for Esther to
break down. She was only eleven
years old, to be. sore, but in wisdom
and experience she was twenty. She
could scarcely remember when the
burden of tbe housekeeping hud not
rested on her slender shoulders, while
Hops, the smaller twin, had always
bad a baby in her arms.
“Tell me, Esther dear,” repeated
the anxious mother.
“Oh, mother, those awlnl dresses!
We never oan wear thevj—we never
cant AH last alike! And how the
baby will look in a cloak of it! And
poor Johnny has got to have a spenoer,
and ilia snoh awral doth!”
“Calm yourself, Esther, and tall me
As we Journey through life
T»*t us live by tho way,
Let uk live in the thought
That in mirth or lu sorrow
Bos a strength for eaoh day
And a hops for nrvc.ti morrow,
With smilft* for the t uturn;
Though tears for tho past,
Aud joy lu tho hours
That fly from ns fast,
Ob, ever and always,
So long as we may,
Ae we journey through life
Let us Uve by tho way
what this is all about. I don’t under
stand In the least.”
“I went down *o see Bobcooa Bea
man this afternoon,”sai*l Esther, con- '
trolling herself with a great effort
“Her mother asked me to wait in the
Sarlor a few minutes for Rebecca was
usy. The diuiug-room door was open
a little, and I could’t help seeing into
the room. All the ladies who belong
to tho sowing society were there, and
oh, mother”—here Esther began to
cry again—“they are making some
clothes for us, andßebeooa was try
ing on my dress. They are going to
make ns each one, and a spencer for
Johnny, and a cloak-for the baby, all
off the aamo pieoe of doth, and here is
a bit I picked up from the floor. Isn’t
it dreadful?”
It certainly was. As Mrs. Beaman
told the laches, it was a plaid. The
predominant color was purple, and
there were lines of green, red and yel
low, the yellow being the widest. One
dress of it would have lboked strange,
but the appearance of a whole family
olothed in it would certainly bo strik
ing. Mrs. Lane had told the truth
when she said Ann Beaman hadn’t no
taste.
Mrs. Seabury look the sample in her
hand. It was strong and fine, as Mrs.
Beaman had said. Esther stopped cry
ing to see how the cloth affected her
mother.
Mrs. Seabury possessed a quick im
agination, and a keen sense of tho ri
diculous which the long years of hard
ship had not dnllod. Already she saw
in her mind’s eye thf family- of five,
clothed in that startling plaid, march
ing into churuh.
It was too much for her to l>ear.
She leaned bank in her ahair and
laughed and laugh£d.
“Why, mother,how can you?” asked
Esther, indignantly. “Why didn’t
they make a coat for father at the same
time? It would bn just as suitable for
him as it will for you. Oh, have we
got to wear them?”
“I’m afraid we shall have to, dear.
There really is no money to buy any
thing else, and we cannot go without
clothes. Wo must be thankful for
what wo oan get.”
She could langh no more, bnt woe
just on the verge of tears.
“If it wasn’t so queer I wouldn’t
mind. Why didn’t they get somo
plain color? Rebecca says her mother
selected it. I didn’t stay to talk abont
it—l couldn’t. Rebecca walked part
way home with me, and she talked
abont it all the time. Her mother paid
for most of the cloth, and tho society
is making it up. How could they do
snoh a thing?” And poor Esther bnrst
into tears anew. “Rebecca thought
we’d lie pleased,” she added.
Mrs. Seabury bad collected ber scat
tered wits during this laet speech of
Esther’s.
“Esther, my dear,” she said, “this
certainty is a cross for ns to bear. But
we must try to think of how little con
eeqnenoe clothes really are. Tbe ma
terial is strong and warm. It will
make ns comfortable clothing and wc
must woar it.”
“I don’t see why,” said Esther, re
bcllionsly. “You can wear your old
block droHs and wc children cau stay
' at home.”
i “It never would answer,” replied
: her mflther. “Mrs. Beaman and the
| other ladies have meant to bo very
! kind to ns. We must consider their
j feeling*. How hurt they would be if
we refused to accept the present which
has cost them so much, in time and
expense! dome, Esther,' you must
help me in this matter. The other
ohildren will taka it in the way that
yon do. If yon accept ths gift cheer
fully, and as if you were pleased, they
will do the same. I shall depend up
on yon to do this.”
“I will, mother, I will!” replied
Esther.
“And above all things, do not let
papa suspect that there is anything
peculiar abont the clothes, for it would
grieve Mm so.”
Esther’s example was of so much'
value that not one of the ohildren
made any complaint when the new
garments were brought home and tried
on. When the doth was mode up it
looked even more startling than it had
in the sample. The girls’ dresses,
even little Nannie’s, were made jnet
like their mother’s, with straight,
plain skirts and short- vaisted bodices,
which buttoned in front. Such frocks
had been worn by ohildren when Mrs.
Beaman was young, and she saw no
reason for making these in any differ
ent fashion. Her own daughter’s was
after the same style.
No one knew how hard it was for
Mrs. Seabury' to leave her house ar
rayed in snch a garb. But it was a
great deal harder for her to see her
ohildren made so conspicuous. There
was no trace of her unhappiness in hex’
face, however. Her struggle had been
a silent one, in the solitude of her
chamber, aud no one knew that there
had been a struggle.
It was indeed a fantastic procession,
| for the cloth had held out wonderfully
' well, and Esther and Hope had short
' ospes to wear with their dresses, while
little Nannie had a long pne with a
hood to it. The capes were Hoed and
wadded, and were really very oomfort
abte.
Mrs. Beaman had felt that the
crowning point waa reached when she
found pieoeu enough to make a os? tot
Johnny in addition to the spenoer.
The parsonage was about a quarter
of a mite from the ehuroh, and the Sea
bury family had traversed nearly half
the distance when a carriage drove up
behind them.
“Herbert, ’ Herbert, do see those
qnaer looking people,” said the lady
who was one of the occupants of the
carriage to her husband. “They are
all dressed iu the same kind of doth.
They must belong to eome institution,
or perhaps they are strolling players,
and dress in that way to attract atten
tion. Do stop and ask them something.
I want to see thsir faces.”
The gentleman, who wan much older
than his wife, smiled indulgently, and'
drew in his- horse beside the little
group.
“Can you tell me the way to Mon
trose?” he anked courteously.
Mr. Seabary tamed to reply.
“Why, John Heebary, can this be
yon?” exclaimed the gentleman, hold
ing ont a friendly hand. “Yon don’t
know how pleased I am to see yon
againl”
“And I to see you,Professor Dawes.
Ada,” turning to his wife, “this is
Professor Dawes, whom I knew so wall
at college. You have often heard me
speak of him.”
To save her life Mrs. Seabury could
not repress toe burning flash of morti
fication which rose to her cheeks ae
she acknowledged Professor Dawes’*
kindly greeting and replied to that of
hi* wife.
“What will they think of ns in these
grotesque clothes?” she thought.
“Oh, they wilt oee that John has not
succeeded as a preacher, and they will
think I have been a drag on him aud
kept him from advancing. No woman
who would dress herself and hor chil
dren like this could be any help to a j
minister.”
While these bitter thoughts passed
through her naiad Mrs. Dawes had.
been surveying the little family with !
kindly eyes; all the amassment had
died out of them.
“A conference to-day,” said the pro
fessor, turning to her. “What do yon
■ say about going in for a while? We
can do so perfectly well, us our trip is
one of pleasure aud not of business.
Our time is our own to spend os we
please.”
“I should like to stop, very much,”
returned his wife.
“Then I will drive on and meet you
again at the church,” said the profes
sor.
“I remember that John Seabury,”
said Mrs. Dawes. • “He was in college
when we were first married. You ex
pected great things of him. Why is
he bnried up here?”
“He is doing good work here, doubt
less,” returned her husband.
“Well, I think he could do more of
it in a larger place, where he would re
ceive more salary. What a beautiful
face Mrs. Seabury has! The children
are very pretty, too. Did yon notice
the largest one, the girl with the big
black eyes?”
“I didn’t look at toe childroa very
much,” replied her husband. “Were
they not dressed rather queenly?
Is that the fashion now?”
“Oh, you dear, foolish man, of
course it Isn’t. Oan’t you see that
they have hod a donation party or
something, and all those clothes have
been given them? They are obliged
to wear them, bnt don't they hate to?
You ooold see it in every faesaeven to
the baby in tlie carriage. It's too
badl”
Her remarks were cut short by thoir
arrival at toe church.
Mr. Seabury wa* pleased to intro
duce his old professor to hia brother
ministers, many of whom were not
college men. It plaoed him on a dif
ferent footing among them, and ffave
him new life and confidence. When
it was hie tarn to address the meeting
everyone was surprised at his elo
quence.
Daring the intermission fear lunch,
all the ladies, even Mrs. Beamon her
self, felt a little doubtful of the suita
bility of the purple plaid for the min
ister’s wife. There certainly was
something incongruous in her refined
face and ladylike figure combined with
that cloth with the crado coloring.
As for Mrs. Seabury herself, all
thoughts of ber attire hod passed from
her mind. She was engaged in con
versation with Mrs. Dawes, and the
time passed very pleasantly for both.
After lunch was over the professor
and his wife went oh their way again,
with many good-bye to the minister
aud h»s Joseph-coated family.
“Isn’t it fortunate that we happened
to go through Dunbar to-day?” said
Mtb. Dawes. “And bow lucky it was
tbat Mr. Seabnry’s family had been
presented with those clothes! If they
had not been dressed so qpeerlywe
shouldn’t have noticed them. Then
we should't have stopped at the con
ference, and heard Mr. Seabury speak.
And wo shouldn’t have known how his
abilities were wasted here, and yon
Wouldn’t have had the opportunity of
helping him.”
“I help him, my dear?” exolaimed
the astonished professor. “I never
dreamed of each a-thing, although it
is a pity he should not' have a larger
field.”
“I know it hae not occurred to yon,
bnt it has to me, and that ie the same
thing. Mr. Merton, who edits the
Ohrietian Messenger,'is going to resign
in the spring to go to India. Hie wife
told me so. Ana you are going to get
his position for Mr. Seabary, who oan
write bfentifal sermons, but oannot
preach them very welL I know all
about it, for lbs. Beabury told me.
and this idea came into my mind at
once. You will do it, won’t you, Her*
bert?”
“Well, well, Idou’tknowl” saidher
husband, dubiously.
The plaid dresses wont to ohnreh
every Sunday all winter, and appeared
at the suppers and entertainments
given by toe' society. Long before
spring it was painfully evident to every
one that those garments had been a
grievous mistake—to every one but
Mrs. Beaman; apparently she admired
the work of her hands as much as ever.
“I declare,” said Mrs. Driscoll to
Mrs. Lone, “it mokes me ashamed
every time I see that circus procession
marching up the broad aisle at ohnreh.
If Ann Beaman ever gets us in snoh a
box as that again, I guess she’ll know
it!”
In the spring the town was electri
fied by tbe news that Mr. Beabury had
received a very flattering offer to edit
the paper of the denomination. The
salary was so large aa to seem mirac
ulous to these simple people. There
was no question about Mr. Seabury**
acceptance. Os oourse ho umst take
it. Such ohances oome only once in a
lifetime.
If the people were surprised, bow
much inure so were tho minister and
hie family! They little knew how im
portant a part the plaid dresses had
played in the matter.
As soon as it was decided that they
would go, Mrs. Beauum marched bold
ly bp to the parsonage.
“Mis’Beabury,” said she, “I gaess
I made a mistake when I bought that
cloth. Tt really wan’t just what I
thought 'twas, come to get it home. I
gnettH you hated to wear the things,
and I don’t blame yon any. Ton have
looked mighty queer.”
“Mre. Beaman,” answered Mrs.
Beabury, “what you did was out of
toe goodness of yoni- heart. You real
ized our necessities and tried to fill
them. I have always appreciated the
time kindliness which prompted yon.
The particular colors of the cloth were
of little moment."
Mrs. Seabury hesitated a moment,
then continued:
“It wouldn’t be quite honest for
me to say that I liked the garments or
that I really enjoyed wearing them or
seeing the ohildren wear them; fiat I
never have lost sight of the foot that
your intentions were of the very
best.
“Well, now,” said Mrs. Beaman,
heartily, ‘Tu glad you don’t bear me
no ill will for making yon all look like
a menagerie. I guess those things
won’t do to wear down where yon ore
goia’, though. So, if yon’U jnet get
all ths clothes together, I’ll take ’em
home and color ’em so you’d never
know what they had been.”
Mrs. Beaman was as good as her
word, and the twins rejoiced in dork
blue dresses, while Nannie and
Johnny appeared in brown. Mrs.
Seabury's gown came home a fine
black, warranted never to grow rusty.
Mrs. Beaman had no equal in the
county when she onoe began to oolor.
The baby’s little cloak was left un
touched, for he had fretted himself
into a better world some weeks before,
and the uncouth garment was always
a most pTcciuna possession to Mrs.
Seabury.
Every summer Mrs. Beabury and
tbe ohildren make a visit to Dunbar,
span cling most of their time with Mrs.
Beamon; and the minister’s wife never
regretted the courage with which she
faced her trial.—Waverly Magazine.
SCIENTIFIC AMD INDUSTRIAL ‘
Students and physicians In Berlin
can now avail themselves of a newly
founded circulating library containing
only medical books.
Ths swallow has a larger mouth, in
proportion to its rise, than any other
bird. He needs a scoop-netqnontb,
for he does all his feeding on the
wing.
Place a snake on u smooth surface,
as a polished table, and it makes no
headway, because it finds no resist
ance on the smooth surface to aid it in
pushing ahead.
An attempt to acclimatize ostriches
in South Russia has proved success
ful. Ths ostriches born in Rossis ore
much less sensitive to cold than the
imported ones, and their plumes are
equally good.
Major William J, Davis, Secretary
of the Louisville (Ky.) School Board,
I has sold his oolleetion of fossils to the
j University of Californio for 915,000.
- Major Davis. sacrificed ths mognifi
cant collection to pay his debts.
! With the essistenee of the latest
I machines, a pieoe of leather eon be
, transformed into a pair pf boots in
i thirty-four minutes, in which time It
: passes through the hands of eixty
; three people and through fifteen ma
chines.
A new X-ray tube, with adjustable
cathode, shows that the exeot posi
tion of the cathode enormously affects
the penetration of the rays, e change
of a third of an ineh giving a range
of penetrative power from the highest
to none at ell.
The wave lenth of Botengeu rays,
according to Prometheus, he* been
ascertained by Dr. Fromm, of Munich,
to he fourteen million* of n millime
ter, or about seventy/five times small
er than the smallest-wave length <d
light The determination was booed
upon interfereaoe-pheaomena. ...