The Cedarville Herald, Volume 12, Numbers 1-26

a ^ vjbiqh m w m m mornjno . f, !8k3i*jire*res b « g o l d e n * birds Upon Ujabeech; . spray ceased;- An. In stan t’* sh lenoafell—then , ■v.rOfft SA^mjjftlc nitty And lur upon the thresholdstood :TfeC-.< L ' O f H e ; smiled with tender >»woet . ness down— Hegazed with loving look— And said; “Myobild, thou sorrowest; HeHester joy canst brook; Xo, I have seenthy grief, end come •Togrant thepwith the dawn, A et»lon^l»t 4 fot:‘J»$Mldise, , " ‘ 'A trtt% st»l||e 4 ,'Wiae^|®ue,'i'^ ThSnahttui the fairest, sweetest land, That ever thought conceived— Abloom with Sowers and rich with song, With sweet barp-bhords, relieved; i And there mg walked, my best beloved, And smiling, stretched to me, Heartlands of weloomo, from aotoss Amisty wall orsea: TheVisiimluted;—once’again” 1 1 saw theearth's soft skies, The ivied minster—and wlthju.„ Ita portBis with glad eyes, I passed, to singmy Easter Sobg— And on tbo way I bent Tokisa twingraves—all starredwith flowers And then, rejoicing—went! —Helen Chase, in Good Housekeeping. h ifd o fr AN EASTER DAWN. It Came to a Motherless Child and a Childless Mothey. T WAS h e igh t /.o’clock Satur­ day e v en in g , and cu itu r e d Boston in full 1<oi§A!;iwaS'7..a0i-: ' sembled in Mn- sic hall listen- ; ing or lessattention to the twelfth symphony con­ cert of the sea­ son. O u tsid e the d o o r , on the ..first la n d in g , Anthony /, Kra­ mer wan listening also, And, though in .hiscase the1 listening was of necessity somewhat interrupted,the crumbs which'he .’did manage to pick up were morctobim perhaps than.the.full' ban­ quet to many o f those inside. Hewas only a small boy and a somewhat shab­ by one, hat the heart o f a musician was beatingunderhis threadbare little coat, andthemere suggestion o f theharmony which was fiooding those halls within made his pulses thrill so rapturously that ho lost oven hia senseof caution, and had almost flattened his ear against the door, when it was half opened by .a higmantwho paused for a moment be­ side him. /Thinman was In reality big (n more senses o f the word than one, since he was the soloist o f the evening, and the mere expectation of listening to his wonderful voice was pleasantly r exciting,the vast audience within; hut, in spite o f hia size, and, still more, dc-’ spite the fact that he was already a lit- tle late, the furtive rapture in Antho­ ny's small face arrested him, and, the fellow-feeling of .the, artist together with the sensibilities o f the kindliest heart which ever heatIn artist’s breast being alike aroused, he determined to Investigate, “Hullo, little chap,” he said, "is this the way you take your symphony?” "It’s alt the r. ny I can get it, sir," Anthony answered, apologetically, and thk - wntwmb wfca m* back i 6 At*** ■■ TBOeiXKMg. ■ wasmovingmeekly aside whenftplsUa* aut-lookhig guardianof thepeace flame forward to supplement the apology. "He ain't an ordinary loafer, sir, His mother works In a shop on Winter Street and he waite for her every Sat­ urday evening. He seems to like the .tousle,” . "Well, "sa id the hi# man, Who, haw ing opened hie far-lined greatcoat by this time, had taken from an iaatae pocket a cdaple o f cards and was new looking kindly from iha boy to Stt friend, "slaeC jmu can atmWerfjrlflHk Johnson, acapnia w* ire Mm .Metrein­ side titia evening. M l let kb* have my ticket, and, set hint, Jfttta faBdw, tin* iurny address, to uey foomen How, our Wg toaaAflLs Aa. jgggjM wreurAc flmfiwm^jwMp JNHflMy eflMt ~4t> **«*, very often '’ 4 * § r eM jf ■»#. < * f i r r t > t% 4 * •token.te| huthe had no aapaata^onaa 1 it ip this ease, .and was therefore not fig thelesat surpriJindwhea^ypn the 2b dw meriting appointed b4g aipw^hat meket on atoraildbg;.M>.oo!ealng. - ->w w "Ah! here you are, littlo fellow! Well, how did you like the concert? What’s your name, by the way?” "Anthony, sir. Oh, it was so grandl” Poor little Anthony, shivering with tidm^foua^hteKvocabula^ ver^imttif, fleient just then; hut this new and wonderful benefactor seemed entirely satisfied, and, looking down on him, said; jj ."Ajjfd whatdldyputlikflrbe*t?>\ ' -The mdrriefet he1'hhd said it the’tenor saw absurdity in the question, hut the boy’s face kindled with appreciation as he answered, promptly; 41."Oh#! liked itbest.Kvhere you sang that-—” find tlieuynOfc bring the words,* but slpaply the melody, he sang with utter unconsciousness of effect a couple of bars from one of the songs whichhad thrilled the music hall through and through the Saturday night before. "Oh, that was soflnet”—- - In speechless amaze the tenor stared for a moment, then, drawing himself, as it were, together, he said, shortly: "Sit flown there, Anthony, and wait till I come hack.” 1 ' Then, opening the door! he disap­ peared. in , the passage, bringing with him when he returned another gentle­ man somewhat older than himself. “Whiting, X want you to hear this boy sing. Whatdo you sing, Anthony?” Abashed, and yet wholly, anxious to please' this demigod who had hurst so suddenly upon his life, Anthony; stood up. ■ “ I can singa good many hymns and a few other .things. Shall I sing ’Hark, what mean?’ ” ' “ Rossini? Yea giro us that.” The men sat down. The hoy stood with his hack against the door, twirl­ ing a shabby Tam O’Shanter in a pair of neryous hands, and out o f the little room floated a voice, pare, silvery, un­ faltering—Bucb a vqic© as neither, of those two ihen had ever heard.in that room before. Through all the delicious measures o f that incomparable melody it rose and fell, and when at last it died out in wavy cadences, the tenon glanced toward hia’ friend with some­ thing like very tears shining inhis eyes, and the friend, jumping to his fcet, ox- claimed in ncAvous haste: “ I know he’s your, friend, Billy, hilt I must share him. , I wont him for my choir. Wouldn’t you like to sing in choir, boy?” "Yes,wr;" Anthony’s face became crimson with delight, and the poor old Tam O’Shnn- ter suffered more than ever at his handB. ’I go to the Advent every Sunday— I’ve picked up lots of things they sing there." "Only there? Have you had no other training?” Oh, yes, a good deal from my fa­ ther, hut he died more than a year ago, just after we came to this country. There are’ only mother and me left, and I’ve been out o f a job for over a week." ‘Well, Mr. Whiting here will soon give you a now one," the tenor said. “Will' you put him among, the to serves, Whiting?” With that voice? No. Ho can go in almost at once, I have two vacan­ cies anyway. The last was that little Scott-Payne hoy. Ho died on Satur­ day,” “What! Sirs, John Scott-Payne’s hoy? Why, he’s all she had,” “ Yes; like this little chap, lie was the only son of his mother, and shea widow—but under mightily different circumstances,” “ Ah, well, well! All her ducats can't mend a broken heart, and she will have that, I know. He was such a noble, gentlemanly lad," "Yes, and a jlne voice. I have missed him badly, hut I think with very little training this hoy can take his place.” And so it came to pass that before Johnnie Scott^Payne had been a month in his little grave at Mt. Auburn, Anthony Kramer was singing in his stead at the Churcho f the Nativity; and while Johnnie's mother wandered through the desolate rooms o f the cost­ ly house which she no longer called a home, finding comfort nowhere, An­ thony’s mother, selling small wares be­ hind the counter o f a littleshop on Win­ ter street, rejoiced unspeakably that her boy had so providentially fonnd his vocation. fibs had ho doubt whatever aa to its being hit rightful vocation, for, though sheherself was quite as gently bom as Mrs- Scott-PSyne, and had lived in the purple HUshe had iost ber heart to her young Music master and fled with him from ail the assosistiowa of her youth, the musks master had oome o f a family who were all musicians, and, unprofit­ able as the profession had proved to her throughout her married life, she had never lost fslth In it Anthony had fMsn named ior the father whom she haddeeerted, hother fatfierdied with­ out forgiving her and leaving all his wealth to distant relatives; so, having only his name s* an heritage from his mother*/ jid * o f fh* h o«£* lt «eem«d kut fltifeg test His' b V s TSihr- some to him by means of the gift whioh had deeestoied.to fcta tosneto mjvrslproportidw tromWs father sad OiphPWfd-iMfrtor^-'Slto'.lisd-’ robust, and a New England climate Oj^sspld ipsoaiU upon, her feeble " com ppof ....... datmtoMi question of time. For herself she.liud no dread of his coming, but her heart was sore atthe thought of parting with her boy, and, however hard she tried to nerve herself for the effort, she lacked postage totfamtoimof the trial instore sionlrtim**-'-'*?. In the old dayshe might have guessed it for himself; but bo was so happy and busy now, bSskingln the sunshine o f his benefactor's increasing approval, earning, a steady income among the fraternity of which the kindly tenor was bat one, and throwing himself with boyish fervor intohischoirwork, thathe never noticed how the pretty, pale face of.Ids mothe^was growing d*Uy, ’pater andithirihcr.j j£|jtf he did piotice it,-ho qpited himself^ b y , thinking:. “ Even if she isn’t quite as strong as she •used to be, I’m growing stronger all the time, and by and by she needn’t work at all.” For a long while aftey his father had been taken from them, the world-had seemed to the poor little fellow .very full of death and sorrow, Irat now, re­ joicing as ho did in the new conditions of his life, almOsithe duly time the old sadness .took ■possession of him was when, sitting through an" especially long service in Johnnie Scott-Payne’s place, it occurred to him to wonder about Johnnie and Johnnie’s mother, Of her his thoughts were especially wistful after he heard one o f the other choir boys saying: “Oh, she never edineshere now, she’s so cut up about Johnnie. I guess, anyway, she couldn’t bear to see Kramer in his place, for Mr. Whiting and everybody else thlnkB Kramer like enough to Johnnie to be his.brother. Mr- Whiting says ho didn’t notice it untilhe got into his surplice, and then he could almost think it was Johnnie back again.” “ I’m afraid if she saw me she would hate‘me," Anthony said when telling his mother about it tbat night; but when at last Mrs. 8cott-Payne did see him she was very fa r from hating him! She hsd heard o f this little boy who was described as being so like her dead son, and had &ren bad a. half-fearful wish to see him; .but above' all the other associations o f herlife she moat dreaded; coming back to the church which had been so dear and familiar-—' the church where all the sacraments o f her life had been partaken—from the. time she had been brought as a baby to baptism down to that last dreadful day when her strong,..tearless eyes beheld therein the flower-strewn coffin of her boy. All through the winter, each successive Sundayfound her going any­ where end everywhere el*c< hut an Good Friday some impulse which she could neither control nor explain com quered her former reluctance, and, to the surprise ot the many who kdew her, the shrinking figure in its heavy black draperies dropped once more into tbo seat whichmemory made atonce so dear and dreadful. For several minutes she refrained from looking, toward the choir, then nerving herself os for some terrible ordeal, she looked suddenly^ and direct­ ly at the place which was to know her brave, sunshiny little son no more, and looking, shemetthe direct, sympathetic gaze o f eyes so like his that a strange, sweet comfort stole into her 'bereaved heart. A smaller natured woman might have resented poor little Anthony al­ together; butin tliegamut o f Mrs. Scott- Payne’s being there were few, if any, insignificant notes, and certainly not one of thatproblematical few happened to bo struck on this solemn fast day which was to mark a new era In her life. Perhaps, indeed, leaving Antho­ ny put of the question altogether, there is no servles which doss so wholly subdue egotism and littleness os that of Good Friday, and, as each one of our Saviour’s last Words was successively dwelt upon, this pobrmourner felt her­ self creeping a little closer to the cross. She had never been either a hard or rebellious mourner at any time; but Johnnie had been the lastgreat joy left to a life which had known much sor­ row, and she had found it impossible to realize a greater anguish than that o f parting with him, until, in that solemn noonday quiet she looked On Catvary, and realized, as never before, what that other mother most have felt to see lier stainless Firstborn stretched before her on the Cross—realized a* never be­ fore the infinite oompassion of th* Firstborn's entreaty: “ Woman, be­ hold thy son!” “ Oh, if he would onlysay that to me,” the sore heart murmured, “ how thank­ fully I would obey himi” After the service she still knelt on, nntU cme by one the oongregatkm be­ came dispersed, and there were left in the church only herself, the organist and tvro of the choir boys. One o f the two she saw was her boy’s successor, and with hungry intensity she watched the little cassocked figure flitting noise­ lessly wheat the chancel, then coming down the nave, pest the pew in which ahahat, until with mu witting step* he reached;the. flea greet trigady « hia He—» tragedy which had for it* herald A smalt boy, who, eager with impor­ tance, whisperedhoeVsely, yetdistinctly enough to reach even Mrs. Soott- laoften a miaty;'en#'toear mortal ey#^ but,from that moment a wounded hand sesmed to childless ntrJthe Way from -that thefl:?te that almost, moth- erlegs child, -^nd , by .end by, when joy and peace hid cbme’aa tbe fruition ofObedlencepit gaVeHelen SooVt-Payne unspiakabtogrtmlort tp remember how unfalteringly she had followed It from v “ I will 'take -him,” she said, as the organist; ,th« other, choir ,boy.and the messenger bent over the limp little fig­ ure which had fallen aa though- slain before that cruel"-lheteagc: “ My car­ riage is vVgititig'and 'I Will take him home. -Mr. Whitlng./hf*. told [pie aJU about him. . I kpovr where,he lives,” , Thus,- os' one chapter ’o f Anthony Kramer’s life was.finished; another one. began,, and'the ^poor ’young mother, waiting to feast her dying eyes for the last time on her-'oitly child, saw at tho same' time, the illumined, face of her child’s new mother, and, perhaps, be­ cause the eyes of the dyingare so much sharper than ours,' which still look earthward, Bhe seemedto read, as If by intuition,- the t thought and *purpose whichilluipiued it “Ob, mother, mother, you cannot leave me! * I cannot let you go!” wailed poar-Rttle Anthony, throwing himself down beside her; but though the nerve­ less arm instantly encircled^bim, it was tothis embodiment of- a new hope the mother’s ' failing voice first addressed itself. “ Will ydn care -fo r ’him?” she said. Will yon watch over him when.I am gone? He is * good boy now—he has brought nothing but gladness to my 0* It .swaaEssauj, 'I* A t tote ysssisateii U # A Aa poor Id aeon doubly ‘w ax YOU WATCH OVERm il WHBX I AM aosx?” heart Will you help him to become a good man? I know who you are, but death makes me hold, and I do not be­ lieve you Would oome to measyou have if .you meant to refuse me.” The doctor standing at tho foot o f tho bed shook his head fearfully. Her re­ quest seemed so wild, andhe wasafraid o f the issue; but down on her knees at the poor bedside, in the shabbiest room of the shabbywest end boarding-house, fell Helen Soott-Payne, and without either fear pr faltering made reply; “ I did not come here of myself-—I think our dear Lord has been leading me all through this day, and now Ho is saying to me, a* He said to Htsown mother: ’Woman, behold thy son!’ . “Do yon think I would even dare to disobey Him? I will do for year boy exactly what I would do for my own, and oh, when you meet my boy in Par­ adise, 1 know he will be glad to hear that his mother Is no longer desolate.” “1 will sorely tell him,” the poor weak voice whispered, and then, softly pressing the little tear-stained cheek beelde her, the mother said; “And Anthony, yon will be to herall that you would-have been to me—more If possi­ ble. Death has lost its terror since I leave you in her care.” All that day and throughout the next, Mrs. fioott-Payne watched that feeble spark o f life with unremitting tender­ ness, and when, early on Eastermorn­ ing, it went finally out, with hands as gentle and reverent aa a slater’s, she composed the tired body to “Liswithfist towardtbsdawn Till therebraak* lbs lastsadbrightestEsster morn.” Then takingher boy—really herenow —into her loving, yearning arms, she hashed hia sobs with her kisses, and whispered over and over the blessed promises which were being said and sung in the little church from which they ware both that day absent. 1 fear that just at first, in the terrible sharp­ ness of a child’s overwhelming grief, poor Anthony paid hot small heed to any of them, but by and by some of their peace and comfort stole Into th* sore young heart, and underlying the greater truths, which he Could grasp but dimly, was the assurance that where Johnny hadgone his mother had followed, and a lively hope that; wher­ ever Johnny’s mother might go in the futore, he would always be with her, t is generally a child’* way—often, alast the way o f those whoare no long­ er children—to take comfort in the less, rather than the greater, but to the credit o f this particular child’s belief It must be said that, in the years which have gone by since that Easter morn­ ing, hia loving faith in hia adopted mother has never in the slightest de­ gree been violated. Those who war* the earliest friends o f whomjl have told youare sttll devotedly Ida friends; and are given to etetefty assirliny that he* fere maty yteri AsriismyKraaterwlli liberally rerefri *11there vrhahare be* friended MtmtbBt'whoa Mr*. IreW* « J h » t^ e e y ? s h e Kitty dlTreytste- ! * * * * * * * £ # 1 PERSONAL AND fMPERgONAL* 1.-fM i*sf)life gohrteiufe’jf hdme 'hi In ond ot the suburbs o f‘ Capetown., The Village consists of a farm, a hotel, a station/a'inUl, a war£h<ttsfl'*nd;a’ lew hots.; ,—Emin Pasha is,still dragging hi* float tailucrooh'thij' Dark Continent and wanting somebody to fight with. And the probabilities^ that he will get all the fighting he WafttSarOUnd Lske Vio^ toria and be brought hocktoclvilzalUon on a shutter, . ^ . —A ■Buckley. Wash.; Tuan,: while hunting, discovered a. deer, behind a fallen tree. Thinking the animal was dead he undertook"to turn' it over, but at the first touch the animal jumped to itq fret and jmuudcd away. It had been taking a nap. —A young woman o f Athens detects the presence, instantly o f any feline, that enters theroom whereshe * She need .not see nor hear the animalWhen it enters, but has Intimation o f Its dis­ agreeable presence by strange-so08*” tions tbat she invariably experiences, when she Is brought into contact with a cat, and she entcrtaina an unconquen-- able repugnance to theseanimals. —Samuel Plimsoll,tbe sailors’ friend, who for thirty years ha* been laboring to secure better protection for seamen employed in the merchant service, Is a benevolent-looking old man with a kindly fare. His „hair is scanty, but what there is of it is white, and he has a full, flowing; white beard, Hia eyes: ore somewhat dimmed by age and are so weak that he is forced to wear blue glasses Otherwise he appearshaleand hearty. —Senora Gonzales, wife of the ox- president of Mexico, is now traveling In tho United States unattended by maid or escort. She has been twelve months away from her Mexican home, and in that time she ha* visited the principal cities of Europe. ‘ The senora ia a fine- looking little woman, with large and pretty brown eyes, an olive complexion and an abundance o f black hair. She does not appear to be'more than thirty- five years old. She is interested in medicine and is a.gred,uate of two med­ ical colleges. —President Harrison is said to-take more delight in the streak ot Indian blood in his veins than in- any other At­ tribute. The president lias had the genealogy carefully ldokcd up, and ho is a direct descendant of Pocahontas by her marriage with John Rolfr. The i Pocahontas blood came into the Harri­ son .family through tho marriage o f Benjamin Harrison, the signer o f the Declaration o f Tndepsndifire and the great-grandfathero f thepresident,.With Susannah Randolph, sixth in descent from Pocahontas. —Westminster abbey does not con­ tain the deist o f all the illustrious o f the earth, In the church o f St Michael, London, is the urn iu which was depos- , ited the head o f King Jamed! IV. o f Scotland, the slaughteredking o f Flod- den Field; in the chanoel of S t Mar­ garet is buried.Hie headless body o f Sir Walter Raleigh; St Paul’s contains the sarcophagus of the duke of Wellington; Richard Baxter, the anther o f the “ Saint’s Rost,”, la burled in Christ church; thq poet Grey sleeps not far from the “ spreading yew” of which hs sings lu. his "Elagy;” while In Bunbill Fields lies John Banyan, Isaac Watts, the hymn-writer, and Daniel Defoe. “ A LITTLE NONSENSE.” —Mm SUmdiet—“ What part o f the chicken shall I giveyou, Mr. Goodfesd.” .Boarder—-” All but tho ntMpc.” —McSwizzle—“ What caused the fire at your boarding house yesterday?” McBrick—“A heated argument at the dinner-table.” —An undertaker o f Waltham an­ nounces that he proposes to increasehis business. The attention df the grand jury is called to the fact—Boston Her­ ald, —Quidnunc—“What makesyour hair so much greyer than your whiskers?” Bullfinch—“ Why, my hair la a great deal older than my whiskers,”—Boston Courier, t —HitFirstAppearance.—Trjrou—^It’a a mistake to Suppose that skating re­ quires skill. I find that fi>4 more Ig­ norant you arc about It the more easily you tumble to it,” —How Could You Expect It?—Me- dummy—“ Mrs. Dingbstte doesn’t seem to have common aen£e.” Tomdlk—“Of course not There’s nothing common about her, she’d have you to know.” He SavedHisLife.—Awealthybank­ er meets a tramp in an Isolated place. Tramp—“Help a poor man with a dol­ lar—you will aave a humanlife.” Bank­ er (haughtily)—“ Your life Is not worth a dollar.” Tramp (swinging a dab)— “But yours is.” Tramp gets hia doUuv —Texas Siftings, -T h e Usher—“ Brudder BUlingv, do psstah tola me ter ax yo’ fob daodaah half ob dat sop’able oolish button what yo* dropped In de contribution box.”" Brother Billing»-"Wb*t fob he tola you* dat?” The Usher—"Casehe’sdou* preached from de i n ’, ’Deee am good an* perfeo* gifts,* an*hedon*wantnuffip elte.”—Jewelers* Weekly. —Amy—"Young' Mr. Dollejr baa pro­ posed tout*.” ‘ Mabel—"Of eonree yon accepted him?” Amy—"Walk no. t h*d expected toi but In hk propocel ha naed aa irreeameilaMe figure at tpreclt, a iM ltb on ^ le in ^ n re itk k in y llfg a hagpiaccs with him. .Ha aate: 'Amy, fm virilk with tn? downthectream EH- smac •ssspwf uairewj*wo nvwmws asm. nv•enawemmm' 4 gra 'Wfitem^