Loving Too Late

Not long ago I met a young lady in poverty whom I had previously knovvn in wealth, and this was in substance the story .she told me: "Fatlier died snddenly in Washington, and the professional skill through which he had coined money for ns died with. hira. I ara not weeping because we are poor. I am broken hearted because none of us saw that he was dying. Was it not pitiful that hg shonld, think it best not to tel) any of us that he was sick?. And I, his petted daughter, though I knew he was taking opium to soothe his great pain, was so absorbed by my lovers, my games and my dresses that I just hoped it would all come right. If I could only rernember that even once I had pitied his suffering or feit anxious about his life, I might bear his loss better !" The story is cominon enough. Many a father, year after year, goes in and out of his home carrying theburden and doing the labor of life, while those ■whom he tenderly loves hold with but careless hands all of honor and gold he wius by toil and pain. Then some day his head and hands can work no more ! And the hearts that have not learned the great Iössou of unselfish love while love was their teacher rnnst now begin their sad dnty when love has left thero