A Valuable Dream

''Mary, look at the bread, won't you? It's done, I guess." "In a minute, mother," and the young girl bent still lower over the book she was readiug. A footstep sounded upon tlie well-beaten yard, and both mother and daughter starled nervouüly, the latter slipping her book nurriedlyout of sight, and starting toward the stove. "It's ouly Willie," and Mrs. Heyworth resumed her patching with a sigh of relief. The boy who entered threw himselt dejectedly upon the long, high-back settee, and buried hia face for a moment in his hands, then, starting up, exclaimed : "I might just as well give up first as last, I suppo3e." "Oh, Willie, did father say you couldn't go?" It waa the girl who spoke, and her face flamed red and hot as she turned to her brother. "Of course he did! I might have known it," he added in a choked voice; "but I did think that surcly he would consent when he knew how mueh I wanted to go to college, and how hard I had tried to prepare for entering this fall." "Did you teil him about it, Wilhef" "Yes, but he only said I needn't say another word; he had 'set his foot down' that his boys should be farmers, and farmer3 had no need oí college; it only made them lazy and stuck-up - lazy and stuek-up! As if I wouldn't work ïny fingers to the bone, and study all night long, if only - " and his voice broke away in a sob. He was sixíeen; a great shy, awkward boy; with a promise of manly beauty on the sinooth face, and broad, white brow; a prophecy of noble manhood in the clear eyes, and firnily set lipa, and well-poised head. This was his ambition; to go to college, to know the things that studente know; by day and by night it had been his one wild hope, sleeping or waking, ever present with him. "I do think it'a too bad, and i'ather is just as mean aa he can be ! I don't care !" she exclaimcd defiantly, turning determinedly away f rom her moïher's admonitery "Mary! Mary! child!" "I don't care?" If father wantcd us all to hate bim, he couldn't try harder than he is doing all the time to bring it about. There isn't a day that he doesu't 'set his foot down,' as he says, to something we all hate and protest against. You know as well i as I do, that if it hadn't been for some thinga, Lis'beth would have n6ver left home, and if he don'fc micd there'll be two or three others missing oiie of these mornings." And having "said her say,"' she turned her flashing, gray eyes, amd iusked, burning face away from them taward the heated oven, where, after giving the nicely baked bread a yigorons thump acd shake, she deposited it again, instead of upo the table, as she should have done. "Wel!, grieving woa't domy work,' with a pitiful attempt at cheerfulness, 'Til just have to quit thinking about it, that is all !" and he walked slowly away from the house, and off orer the meadow lot with a sad, hopeless air, that made the mother's heart aehe. A whiter look camo oyer the patiënt, care-worn face and the Unes about her mouth settled into tense rigidity as Mrs. Heyworth's eyes followed her son. Was it right? Was it just that her children'8 Uves should be thus cramped and narrowed down to the standard of one little soul? So well she knew ker children's troubles that ahe could not ai beart blameher daughter íbr the euddea outburst that had just occurred- íhere was too much truth in the girl's rapid words. Poor Wilüe! How hard he had studied, every moment that he oould snatch frora work, preparing hiin8elf for examination - hoping, although against hope, to enter college. How proudly he had exclaimed, da3hing dowa the books gleefuily : "ThC5"L mother ! tnere s not an exampie in this I cannot solve, ora proposiüoH I cannot state, and as tor these feliows," rapidly runniüg over other tex books, ;fíhere s not a queetion here 1 cannot answer, f rom lid to lid; and now, mother, dou't yoji think perhaps father will let mo go?" "And then she thought, with a shiver, of the words of her restlees, high-spirited daughter: "If he don't mind, there willbe one or two others missing one of these aornings." Would it end in that at last.' Already one had gone, searcbing elsewhere for the freedom to thiuk and act that was denied at home. Was it right that all the sunshine, all the happiness should be crushed out of their lives? She knew that it wa iioí, and had not she au equal right to determino upon their future with their father? The sunbeauis slowly lengtbened, creeping up and oTer her feet, her work and her folded hands, until they flashed upou her with a sudden blindness. "Come, Mary, it's time for supper, and father'll soon be in from the field!" and then she gathered up her work with a weary sigh. "The deacon is kind enough at heart," half apologetioally, "only he's so set." For a moment she lingered in the doorway, then, turning away, said hurriedly: "The ñien ara coming, you skim themilk, child, while I cut the bread. Where is the bread?" and she glanced inquiringly from the empty breadcleth to her daughter. "Oh, mother! As I live, I do btlic-ve!" She opened the oven-door slowly, and with the air one might be supposed to wear guing to their execution. The bread was al most in a b'.aze, and blacker than any hat you ever saw, or any Chloe that ever lived. This was tbe climax of misfortune; Lurnt bread was the deacoa'a particular aversión, the eating of which was always coiisidered by him worthy of an indefinitely greater patieace than the incomparable Job ever possessed. Before this new evil all other trcubles "paled as stars before the sun," aud for awhile Mrs. Heyworth's sorrows were swallowed by the trembling question, "What will father say?" Deacon Hey worth's day's work was done long ago, and he sat as usual, in his easy chair with his feet upon the fander. The evening was cool- just cool enough to make a fire enjoyahle, and with his paper and apples beside him, he prepared to enjoy himself. His wife sat Bear him with busy fingers; her work was not yet done - would never be, she of ten thought, wearily, until her hands and feet and heart were still in death. The corner clock struck nine, and the deacon íaid a3Íde his paper. Mrs. Heyworth's opportunity had come at last, the moment she had waited for anxiously. "Soniething must be done. Oh, if I could only say something to convince him! His heart is kind and good enough, if it only could be got at- kiud o' like green moss, and shiuing shells under the water when i; 's f roven over- easy enough tobe got at when the ice breaks and floats away.!' , , "Fatb !' slie conimenced desperately,"cIlege begins next week." "Y es, I know !" and the deacon's voice expressed slight irritation. "Willie does want to go so bad, 'pears like it's a shaine for the boy to be disappointed." The deacon's face becaine flint. "I ve explained to William my reasoias for not letting him go, and when I gay a thing I mean ií; I've set my foot down - " "Yea ! yes ! I know ! but I do wish, Nathan, you wasn't quite so swift at 'setting your foot down,' as you always say; its mighty aggravatin' sometimes, for you never pretend to ask me what I tbink of such or such tkings, aml for all I'm so quiet like, and don't say anything, I feel it nevertheless, and I've begun to wonder when my tiine'll come." The deacoa gasped, and bis wife, throwiug away her last remnant of timidity, continued, "We've boen married now nigb onto twenty-five yeara, Natban, but I can't remember the time when I ever set my foot down that such a thing should or should not be done." SUe paused a moment, with the scarlet staining her face like some bashful girl'a, and her husband watching thenew lightin her usually droop ing eyes, stammered out, with fast expiring dignity, "I- I'ra surprised. I ara. Hannah. I ain surprised!" "That's vory likely," answered his wife meekly; "we are always surprised if a person ventures an opinión different from our own, and I suppose you are all the more eurprised at my at tempting a thing I never did before but it's gone on and on, until I can stand it no longer, Nathan, and I must speak. I've worked long and hard for you, now, more'n twenty years. Many and many's the cight I've gone to bed too tired to sleep.and it 'pears like I shall never get rested any more. Mary ain't stout, you know, and all the brunt of the work comes on me. I look old and feel old to be only fortyfive, and it'a the hard work that's done it; a hired girl would have been a mighty help and a blessing sometimes, but you uever seeni to think abeut it, and I never grumbled any, for I loved you all the same; but sometime, wheu I've thought it all over- and Fve done it hundreds of times- it toaches mighty close to be always set aside liko nobody at all, and have my wishes and opinions continually talked against, for I nerer forget that I'm your wife, Nathan, and have an equal right with you, to say what should or should not be done!" Her voice trembled for a moment, but the dea cou's amazement was too great for words, aad she hurried on, "There was never better children than ours f or sinartnees and work, and any body willaay so that knows'em; but becaustthey'H mind every word that -yon say, and never grumble when you cross 'em, doesn't make il right that you should deny them every privilege aad enjoyment. "Young folks aiways hanker after fun, and it don't make them any better christians to be aiways quieting them down when they are laughing or singing their merry songs. There's Thomas, the boy's heart ia set on going to singing-school- he can sing more songs now than I ever knew in all my liíe, and he takes so natura, like to the notes aud tunes - I don't gee why you can'tlethirago, Nathan, for it would only do hiia goad, he's always so happy wheu he's singiug, and, God knows, sorrow comes soon enough to some folks. Mary wauis to go to school so bad that she criea every niorning when she sees the boy3 and girls go by. I know I could't do all the work, but bired help is easy got, and you'd never miss the money that would pay a girl her wages. "Now, as to Willie's going to college. I don't want to appear contrary, Nathau, but IVe wanted it right along, and I do think the boy ought to go. It's my notion he'll never make a farmer, he's too set on his books; not but what a farmer can be as smart as anybody, but it's not ir. nature to do one thing wel!, when your whole heart and soul are hankering after Bomething else. "No ! I say let Willie go to college, and let Mary go to school, and Thomas to thesingingschool, if they want to go. It'll do you good, for there's none of your chüdren goingto be any of the ignorant stock, let me teil you tbat. "Öf course you can't do ihe work. nobody expecta you to; but you've got the money that'll hire it done, and it's a great deal better to be a few dollars out of pocket and have the love of your children, thau io leave it all to them after awhile, and niebbe havo them feeling glad when you're gone. "I thiDk, sometimes, per'ap3 if ye'd been a little more kind and gentle like to Elizabeth, she might 'a-" "Mis' Heyworth ! Hannah !" exclaimed the husband with suddenly awakened dignity, "I hope you'll not attempt to blame me for what that siuful girl may havo done, me, a deaoon !" and he clasped the chair's arm firmly, while his feet took an amazed jump frora the fender to the floor. "Being a deacon doesn't help the matter a bit, and it won't help you, either, when it comes to the last, and if you've not tried, or done anything to make anyone else happy, I'm af raid there won't be much happijjess for you; folks can sin in not doing what they ought to do, as well as in doing what they ought not; and we'll be judged for what we have not done as well as for vphat we have. No, Na than, make your ehildren happy, and no matter if it does take a little tnoney to do it, you'd far better kave them without a oont, than to have your memory mould and rot because you denied them these favors. It takea mighty little, sometióles, to make another oae happy, but I' ve a notion it goes a long way with Qod !" Hl ftf 9t % Deacon Heywortli could not sleep. He was, to say the least of it, surprised. This was not Hannah's usual way of talking, aad he could not imagine what in the world posaessed her now. If she had spoken angrily, he could have replied, but her language had been so calm, so dispassioned, so straightforward that he had not the least opportunity for anger. For awhile he could think of uothing but the strangeness of his patiënt, gentle-Toiced wife talking in this way to him; then gradually her words came back to him, and the more he remenabsred of thena, the more they troubled him; but not that he thought she "iooked at tbings iu too strong a light, for irhat ueed was tiiere for , Willio to go l.o college? he aever went, never wanted to go, even: the boy ( knew too rauch now for any good ; then as for Mary, she's a better , acholar this very day than lam, and there's ao moe need o' her going to school than there is of Hec, there!" and the deacon very complacently eyed a great yellow and white dog lyiug behind the stove, aad decjded that it was all a humbug, that he had 'set his foot down," etc. But then it was kind of mean to say they shouldn't, when IJannah had set her heart on it; 'taint often she crosses me; she's been a powerful good wife and mother, Hannah has," mused the deacon wJth a remorseful twinge. " Wonder what did possess, her, thougb, to say what she did about Elizabeth?"and just then the deacon'g little devil, self-conceit, stepped in and spurted at such a rate about a man's controlling his own house, and a deacon knowing what was right and best for his family, of course, that he turned over in his bed and closed his eyes even more firmly, and with a feeling of conscious superiority. Of eourse he knew what was best! But ae could not sleep; over and over and over again he determinad not to think any more about it, but over and over again would the words redur to him: "If you'ye never done anything to make others happy, I'm afraid there'll not be muoh happiness for you when it copies to the last.'' He could not get rid of them, try as ae would, until, in desperation, he determined to end them by self-examination. He ransacked his memory, firat carelessly, then easerly, then anxiously, and with a great wonderng if it really could be, and if he ohildren might not possibly be glad when be was dead; the thought was horrible, yet turn whichever way he would, it only grew more iatensely certain, for from among all the years, the days, the hours gathered from the past, he could only gingle out pitiful selfishnesa and greed. "I jeat wish Hannah hadu t said anything about it," he groaned, as, restlessly tossing over and over, he found himself unable to stifle his awakening conscience. "I'll not be fit for a lick o' work to-morrow." The deacon waa not so unlike the rest of U3, after all. Sleep carne to him at length, not svreet and refreshing, but busy with dreamings that startled the maa's soul like arrows of warning. He dreameá it was the last great day; the milüous on millions of people melted slowly away from before him, bringing him nearer the Great Arbiter of souls. Countltss throngs of angels horered near, bursting forth in rapturous ' Glory to God iu the Higkest!" as thousands upon thousaiids of the redeemed joined theit number, or turned wesping away, as other3 were borne shrieking to eternal gloom. No great happiness, or particular dread seomcd to euter the deacon's heart; he sincerely pitied those who were eternally lost; aud thought how much better it would bave been for them had they beeu christian3, while he lookcd upon the angels, curiously wondering if sume of them there had been asgood as they "might have been." At last, nothiag remained between him and the Soarching Eye bent upon him. It was an expression of infinite me-rey, loving corapasgion, and yearniug tenderneea, yet unswerying justice, that acemed to draw him nearer and uearer, as by eome invisible chain. "I aru a deacon," explaincd our friend. There was no voice, no gound, yet deep down in his heart he seemed to hcarin living thunders- " I knoie thee not!" when the angels tnrned away in tears. "Doii't you knew? Don't you remeraber? I am Deacon Heyworth," he said, shivering and withering beneath the awful horror that grew upon him. But no "Well done!" greeted him from the Preseuct there; all the glery faded away - only tbe cruelly pierced side and hands and feet and the thorn-crowned brow remained; a voiee infinite in its sadnes3 oame from out the awful stillness - "Ye have done this unto me!" '■You were a deacon, with a deacon'8 work lo dn; it was yours to bind up the hearts of God's children, to make the widow'e heart to sing for joy, to be a peaeemaker among your brethren, and to advance Qod's oause and kingdom in the earth, but you have not given even a 'cup of cold water to one of these His little ones.' " Wrung from hia owh soul, yet another'e, fainter and fainter grew the voice, and the angels veiled their faces and turned away; waiting, listening for his fearful sentenee; ages seemed concentrated in that one instant of anguish, and he shrieked aloud. "Nathan, what upon earth! what is the matter with you?" and Mrs. Heyworth shook her husband vigorously. "Have you got the nightmare?" "Oh, Hannah, I've had an awful 'Ireara, an awful dream!" "Have you? Nightmare, I expeot!" and she turned over sleepily. It was not the nightmare, Deacen lleyworth knew, but he did what many of us would not have done - determined to accept its teaching. " Who would ever have thought it?" he queried, wondering to himself, scarcely able to deny the reality of it all. "Who would ever have thought it of me, a deaconf" Shiveriug, thinking and resolving, he feil asleep again, and again he dreamed. He waa dead, lying still, and pale and cold; and yet he stood watching his famüy a,3 any eurious bystander might. He thought he could read their thoughts; and to his surprise there was nOt so much of sorrow as of eontentment, deep down beneath their mourning. His wife seemed to grow brighter, as if a world of care had been removed f rom her Ufe. "The children can liave their owu way now, poor tbings!" she was saying to herself, although her eyes were wet; "they could never do as they liked while their fatíier was living!" He thought Willie was tryiug hard not to think how glad he was that he could go to college at last; while Mary and Thomas were saying over and over to themselve3, "No person will hinder me now from going to school when I want to go." He saw another foirm bowed near; it was his long absent daughter, and through her heart were wandering the words "Thank God, I can come home azain!" It was terrible. He tried to speak, to teil thera he was not dead, that he loved them more than they ever knew; it was in vain,and he saw himself carried away and buried; but he thought he coufd see them still - was with them ali the while - with them, yet immeasurably separated from them; through days and weeks, months and yeare, he followed them, all the time suffering a remorsetnl anguish that wonld have been insupportable but that he could not speak or weep. He thought it had been ten years since he died, and that he had been long forgottnn by any but his familj; his wife now looked restful, happy and contented; and his children all occupied places of usefulness and hoaor in the world, and he I dreamed, often and often, that their inmost thunghte were, "We were never happy while father lived, and we never would have been happy had he not died!" He tried to speak, to tell them he loved tbem, that he had beea with them all these years.but he eonld make no sound, and they turned away; but he must cali them, must speak to them; again and again he tried to do so, and awoke. Long the deacon pondered over his dreams, and in his heart he felt they had not been of himself but of God. "They're warnings, Nathan Heyworth!" he decided at length, solemuly, "warnings, sure's you live, and ye'll do well to abide by 'ena." ïhe ice was melting away, and already the green mose and shining shell were shiitmeriiig up írom beneath. It was breakfast time at Deacon Heyworth's and the meal was being eaten, as usual, iu almost perfect silence. Again and again had the husband aud f ather been on the verge of speakiug - his lips only opened to I close again silently. No one knew 01 the previous night's experienee - ol the waraiDgs he firmly believed he had received; he eould remain forever dumb, and no one would ever be tha wiser, but he had determined to right, if possible, the wroogs ef years, and yet - it was not so easy as he had thought. 'Williaiu!" he exclaimed at length, suddenly, slowly breaking an egg into the glasg bosido him. The boy looked up respectfulJy, but wearily; he, too, had spent an alinost sleepless uight - a night of teara, and diaappointment. "Well, father?" he said, questioning, for the deacou had stoppd to break another egL"When doen the examination at college begin?" All the blood in the boy's body seemed rushing iato his face, such a strange questioa fOr his father to ask! He tried to quell his hearts sudden beating as he replied, "This afternooD, eir," but the mother could see how painful the suspense was to her son. "If you can sntisfy them that examine the students, you may start to college whenever you please." "Father!" Tears came slowly into the father's eyes; how blind he had ben! "Oh, father!" but the words only ended in a convulsivo burst of tears, and the boy hurriedly left the room. Tnomas looked at Mary, aad Mary looked at Thomas, and the mother looked at them both - the long-suffering mother, whce heart was throbbing strangely to the promise of a new bora peace. "And Mary and Thomas," continued the deacon," after a few preliminary coughs and throatclearings, "I believe school has been 'took up' justabouta week.but mebbe if you study bard and learn fast, you can ketoh lip with the best of 'em; you'll have to fly around, daughter, and help mother all you can uights .and mornings till I get some help; and you boys must give me a lift once iu a while on the farm until we get things to work good. I want to say just here," he said falteringly, and blunderingly, yet bravely, nevertheless, "that ye've all been powerful good children, notwithstandin' you couldn't often get what you wanted, and you sha'n't lose anything by it from tliis on. P'r'aps father thinks a heap more of you, after all, than you'd think when he's so cross and ugly like." "Oh, father! you dear, dear father, you-don't know how much we all love you!" and for almost the first time within her remembrance, the warinhearted, iinpulsive girl flung her arms about him and kissed hirn fondly. "There, thore, you'il spoil me!" exclaimed the delighted deacon, blowing his nose vigorously, and wiping a suspicieus moisture from his eyee; "you'il spoil me, sure!'' "Nathan, husband!" thair children had left the room, aad he carne up to the window beside him. "What does it all mean, Nathan?" "It means that God has been teaching me the error of my ways, Hannah, and I'm trying to take the Ie83on to heart." And then laying his hand gently upon the hard toil■worn one near his, Deacon Heyworth told his wife his warnings. Years have passed over them all since then, and chüdren s children play in the greai old-fashioned rooms. Often they meet together there, and even the long-ago-home-welcomed 'Lizabeth is with them. The mother with her soft, white hair, looks over them all with happy, peaceful eyes, as the father, "almost home," tells over and over again his dreams. "I can sse it all," he says, jest as plain as I could that night. But I'm not afraid now. I know that Pierced Hands will welcome me up there, and í can almost hear the angels eing again. It will not be long, not very long until I shall see Him and know him as He is." "It will be no dream there, Nathan!" Her eyes are dim, bereft of brightness long ago, but their ohildren think of Ihe land of eternal youth as they look upon her, and hear the tremulous, trusting answer: "No, Hannah, no dream there!" - E. Cannon, the Mormon delégate in Congress lately expressed the opiuion that the excitement about Mormonism was all to prevent Congress from admitting him to a seat ia that body, and that when that question was settled, the excitement would cease. We are happy to believe that he misaprehends the state of the publie mind. The passage of Mr. Burrows' bill,will exelude Cannou from a seat as a delégate from Utah, as it will any polygamist, and that will give Mormonism a staggeriug blow; but that alone will not directly interfere with the polygatnous practices of the Mormons, and i "111 3 i other measares win De requireu 10 eut'orce due subjection to the laws of the United States, against which the Mormona are ia open rebellion. The people of Utah must be rescued from a hearlless, sordid tyranny, which taxes them mercilessly tbr the enrichment OÍ' a few unscrupulous leaders, who cali their system a religión only that by it they may enrich themselves and gratify their beastly appetites. It is stated that $5,000,000 in tithes are aonually ground out of the people of Utah, and divided araong the twelve, so-called apostles. The people invoke the aid of the law, for they are ready to plant their feet on any bridge the government shall build, by which they may crosa the social chaajn tliat separates Lhem f rom a decent civilization. Business men there dare not take the initiative,as it would be financial death, and the gorernment must. Chloroform was discovered si multa neously by Guthrie of Sackett's Harbor N. Y., and Soubeiran, of Paris in 1831 It was filet used in surgery by Simpson I in 1848.