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A birthday Dinner,
It is my splendid good fortune to claim as my
pastor a relative of Earnest Willie’s, and, like him,
he is a tremendous worker. But, unlike Earnest
Willie, he has “A. numerous wife and children”;
this wife is one of superior merit, to whom he is
very much attached. (The devotion of an aged cou
ple is the most beautiful of all.)
Not long since I, with several others, was given
the happy privilege of meeting with this interesting
family, around a well filled festal board, to cele
brate in a beautiful way the birthday of this noble,
earnest man of God.
How delightfully fitting to the occasion were these
tender, deeply touching words of Tom Mcßeathis
“Little Mother,” as given by one of the party:
“My life is one long silent prayer,
But not for ease or wealth or fame,
Naught for earth’s paltry dross I care,
Nor for the fickle crowd’s acclaim;
But I would make thine earthly way,
Dear heart, one long, sweet summer day.
“Fair as thou wert —and 0 how fair! —
When first thy life linked unto mine,
Thy soul so radiant did not wear
A glory half so near divine
As is that sweet and softened grace,
That time has left upon thy face.
“I wonder oft how much has life
Thy girlhood’s tender dreams fulfilled;
Charcoal Removes
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TIMES ITS VOLUME IN POISONOUS
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One little nervous Frenchman held forth its vir
tues before a famous convention of European phy
sicians and surgeons. Seeheyron was his name. He
was odd, quaint and very determined. His brothers
in medicine laughed at his claims. Thereupon he
swallowed two grains of strychnine, enough to kill
three men, and ate some charcoal. The doctors
thought him mad, but he did not even have to go to
bed. The charcoal killed the effects of the strych
nine and Secheyron was famous. Ever since that
day physicians have used it. Run impure water
through charcoal and you have a pure, delicious
drink.
Bad breath, gastritis, bowel gases, torpid liver, im
pure blood, etc., give way before the action of char
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man or woman who suffers from gases or impurities
of any kind.
Stuart’s Charcoal Lozenges are made of pure wil
low charcoal, sweetened to a palatable state with
honey.
Two or three of them cure an ordinary case of
bad breath. They should be used after every meal,
especially if one’s breath is prone to be impure.
These little lozenges have nothing to do with med
icine. They are just sweet, fresh willow, burned
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the product of the bee. Thus every ingredient comes
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The only secret lies in the Stuart process of com
pressing these simple substances into a hard tablet
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not assail their curative' qualities.
You may take as many of them as you wish and
the more you take the quicker will you remove the
effects of bad breath and impurities arising from a
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throw off all waste matter.
Go to your druggist at once and buy a package of
Stuart’s Charcoal Lozenges, price 25 cents. You will
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Address F. A. Stuart Co., 200 Stuart Bldg., Marshall,
Mich.
The Golden Age for November 5, 1908.
How many early hopes, dear' wife,
The frosts of later years have killed,
That in a sunnier climate roamed
In beauty might have lived and bloomed.
for many a summer, side by side,
Life’s morning sunlit slopes we’ve climbed;
But soon for me the eventide,
And then the lonely journey Home.
Grieve not for that: ’twere easier dear,
To leave thee than to miss thee here,
“With thy dear hand in mine I’ve passed
Life’s noon, and turned without regret
(Thy gentle love about me cast)
To see the shadows eastward set;
God grant me then, as evening calls,
Thy presence till the twilight falls.”
Then followed the reading of the “Little Moth
er’s” replv, Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s “After the
Test”: _____ ’
“In my life’s morn, when my heart was fired
With that bold courage of ignorant youth,
By the wild, warm tide in my veins inspired,
I sang of love, of its strength and truth.
I said I would suffer and dare and be fearless,
For love, which was only a word to me then
'(Yet a word that seemed holy and grand and peer
less,
And sometimes misused by the speech of men).
“And now as I stand in the noonday of splendor
And crowned with the regal crown of wife,
Those passionate songs as wild, as tender,
Seem all too tame for the love of my life.
I would rather walk by your side in trouble
Than to* sit on the throne of the mightiest king:
And the love that I give today, is double
The worth of the love that I used to sing.
“I may not prove it by deeds of daring
In the reckless spirit that young verse shows;
But a truer courage is needed for sharing
With patient sweetness your cares and woes.
Oh, not in the sinning and not in the dying,
For those whom we love, is love’s strength shown.
The test of our strength lies in living and trying
To lighten their burdens and laugh at our own.
“The truest courage is needed daily,
In facing life’s worries and smiling them down,
And he who can carry his crosses gaily,
Is greater than he who can take a town.
And the smallest word that your lips may offer
Os praise or approval is dearer to me
Than all the plaudits the world might proffer,
Or princes offer on bended knee.
“All that is noble, or sweet, or tender,
Whatever within me was strong and true,
Merged into the perfect complete surrender
I made of my life and my soul to you.
And had I the gift, I would write one royal
And deathless song—the song of the wife
Who finds her glory in being loyal
And worthy the love that has crowned her life.”
And then, for good measure, and to show the sen
timent of his flock toward their new shepherd here
are a few Bible versed that were thrown in:
“Thou hast taught them the good way wherein
they should walk.”
“He fed them according to the integrity of his
heart, and guided them by the skillfulness of his
hands.”
“Glorious things are spoken of thee.”
‘ ‘ So we thy people, and sheep of thy pasture, will
give thee thanks forever.”
“Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your
reward in heaven,” etc., etc.
After dinner we sat with upturned hearts and
eyes and mouths, drinking in a beautiful, beautiful
dream of heaven, most charmingly told, and with
such gestures and tones and tears, as just to carry
one right along with the speaker all the way. Such,
a gift this dreamer has to draw and hold a crowd
spellbound! And you will not wonder when I tell
you, that this was Earnest Willie’s sister. I thought,
as I listened, if heaven can be made as sweet to mor
tal vosion as that dreamer made it to her, what must
it be to be there 1 ? We insisted that she give to the
world this dream in booklet form.
Like her busy brother, she has so much work
for the Master on her mind and heart, which must
be done, rain or shine that she slipped away from
us, while lowering clouds with a busy hand were
scattering their pent up forces about her, and ran
off to her Missionary Society.
Then, clasping the hand of host and hostess to
gether as one, David’s prayer —“And now 0 oLrd,
may it please thee to bless the house of these thy
servants forever,” voiced itself in the heart and
speech of each favored guest as this genuinely en
joyable day was finished.
Gray Haired Mother.
« *
The Mission Girl,
(Continued from Page Three.)
“Thank you,” said Sylvia, “I have crossed a con
tinent for you. Indeed, I think that you must have
had the invincible courage, which your climate is
said to inspire, to send so far for an unknown girl.”
She withdrew her hand gently.
The multi-millionaire smiled.
“They call us the modern Greeks,” he mused.
He admired women of tact who knew how to say
gracious things, graciously. But he turned with
alert dignity to Reece.
“I am more than pleased that you accompanied
your cousin, sir. I hope that the ‘Epic of America,’
as our state has been facetiously called, may charm
you into staying indefinitely.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” said Dr. Redmond, “I
am already feeling the grip of that beautiful bay,”
with a slight gesture in the direction of the rival of
the Bay of Naples. “And,” with a winning smile,
“I have seen Market street, and so I cannot safely
predict what will become of me, since Mr. Laurence
Hill informs me that there is more to follow.”
“Laurence ought to be the confidential agent for
San Francisco,” said Mr. Hill, a look of pleasure on
his face.
With Mr. Hill’s words came the swish of skirts
on the stair, and an elderly woman of attractive
face and bearing entered the room. Her dress
breathed of soft gray silk and hand-made lace, with
an aroma of violets about her, though it was a puz
zle to know where they were concealed. She was
of the old regime, high-bred, irreproachable—the
sort that men without knowledge of her name or sta
tion, would involuntarily call, my lady. Dr. Red
mond fell captive to her charms at once. She
walked straight up to Sylvia, and, after one long
look into her deep brown eyes, the eyes that poor
Rodney had loved, . . kissed her.
“Sylvia,” she said, in a voice that was like the
silver echo of an enchanting strain, “how good of
you to come to us.”
Then she shook hands with Dr. Redmond. But
TIME, every second of it was a priceless diamond
to the dying idol of her heart upstairs, and she loved
him too devotedly to waste one moment.
“Come, my dear,” she said to the girl, who still
had her hat on, “I’ll show you to your room; while
I prepare Rodney to see you.” She lifted a silver
phone from the table, waited a moment while the
current clicked like the wheel of Fate, and then
murmured words for which a dying man had wait
ed so long.
“She is here, my beloved boy.”
Sylvia felt the great room swim. Mr. Hill put
his Herald hastily to his eyes. Dr. Redmond stared
out of the window. Only the woman holding the
silver phone was quite calm. It might be Rodney’s
time to go out through the Golden Gate, but she
was of the stuff of which heroes were made.
“ Yes, son, in the house,” she said, in answer to a
query. She turned to Dr. Redmond.
“Since your telegram came, telling us that Syl
via would come, he has counted the hours like a
school boy. ’ ’
(To be Continued.)
