Evening Star Newspaper, June 18, 1922, Page 60

2. REALLY MARRIED is better known than Mary. Stewar O author storie: progra 1 have known Mrs. C fact, 1 am one of the few people long betore she be: breathles to tales that became ment of her h She has fc ciative, nudien u group of people sat around a t. with_enthusizsm of a different on Life." stories everybody know: who “just naturally 1 is the universal touch arers, lives of her friends ted thean. nd stern_man, older children who first a one of them. i PERSONALITY OF MARY STEWART CUTTING. «n writing them. sat with several other favored ones In her back parlor and listened this country for married life She joined the all-star in t Cutting, of American fiction with deep interest for the plan. utting for a good many years. In to whom she told wonderful stories Every evening at sundown I in that circle unpublished classics— tales that were delightfully suited to the intelligence and entertain- nd a much larger, but I dare to say no more appre- - in the years that have intervened. The other day able, and each person there spoke e of her “Little Stories of Married though, to quote her own words, she wrote only “the kind of —like vour bread and butter,” and of people d outside the city and took trains.” Hers She never wrote of her own married life, nor, consclously, of the her characters were new people, who, after she 4 on through more stories. quote her again, was “the happiest she knows anything about.” Her own married and she had six children. It was ppreciated her as an author—I was MARY STEWART CUTTING, JR. (Copyrizht, 1922 Ail rights reserved.) OW does one tolve a problem that can’t be solved? Of « all problems are fm- possible of solution until you do solve them. One mever knows when the small- est happening may turn out to be « big thing in its effect on the mind of two people who love euch other. in il the years that mey come never to be n. biue-ey soft-cheeked lton May, whose photo- its firm lips and steady her spi from the her—the mother forgot forced little table beside She to Eo swectie” “Oh, if she would like some candy,” began® the major with eagerness. told because Howard she didn't want she hadn't any “She doesn’t mean candy; she means a young man,” sald Sally. “Never mind, father dear; we'll get some one else who would be glad to go Her heart was hot within her; it vus exactly like Carleton's relations; they never put themselves 'out for anybody. | BY * Ok k¥ T all the more need for Carleton to stand by now. A saving idea of the two curly heads and the DAYl . .yrred to her, solving the problem upstairs with Maggle—was busy Wwith her own s she sat in the| small firellt room looking out of the | window, in the fast-darkening win- ter afternoon, at the flooded vacant suburban lots and the leafless bushes that trembled at the flerce slashes the rain. She was listening to the footsteps of her father as he paced up and down the narrow hallway: every now and then he called to her deject- ediy: 1t doesn’t look much like clear- she replied: nk it does, father! iink so at ail. How. hov e wondered desper- ately. could she make her commuting husband appear glad to go back to < after the half- though town this evening, mile walk home from the station in this icy slush and rain? There never ny taxis in this outlylng part of the suburb. How had she failed to remind him in the unclouded morn- ing that this and not tomorrow, as first intended, was to be the night of father's treat? Ever since lunch- con she had tried repeatedly to get Carleton on a phone that had “gone dead.” She knew intuitively that, unwarned, his first loudly spoken words in answer to hers would be. “Go in town tonight. You're crazy.” ©Oh, no enforced resignation on his part would sufice. There must be a glow of enjoyment to satisfy poor father, who had planned this fes- tivity for his brief trip up from the south, where his health, since the death of his wife, kept him In the lonely winters; the thought of this pleasure given to those he loved would warm his heart for months to come. were * Kk ¥k K HE Y= 2 tall, soldierly old man, with a square gray beard and piercing eyes under bushy gray eye- brows. His old friends called him Major, but he was mostly known here absent or as Sally May's father; present, he was so much a father, always, as far as moderate means uld afford, “doing something” for her and hars. But this theater party tonight—for which the most expensive last-min- ute seats had been procured—and the prospective supper, while embracing Sally and Carleton’s young visiting cousins, Howard and Ellyn Brown, here on their way to Florida, was really intended as a special treat for his son-in-law. Carleton was going through the struggles of a Yyoung man to support his little family, buy- ing shoes, perforce, instead of the- ater tickets. He had, moreover, a chivalrous kindr@ss for the major, which the latter deeply appreclated. He came in now to stand beside his daughter, saying, anxiously: “I'm afraid Carleton won't want to g0 out in the rain again.” “Oh he's indoors all day, Yyou know," Sally brightly. *“And Howard and Ellyn are looking for- ward to it all so much—young people do love a treat “Yes, yes, that's true,” responded the major with a pleasant smile. He turned expectantly as a tall, dark, languid youth of sixteen strolled into the room. “What is it, Howard?" “I don’t think TI'd better go to- night,” said Howard. briefly. “I think T ought to stay home, sir; I've got a cold.” “He hasn't at all. mom,” volun- teered the wide-eyed. eight-year-old Carley, who had Wollowed on his cousin’'s heels. “He says he's sick of theaters. He wants to stay home and read ‘The Hound of the Basker- villes!" ** “If he has a cold,” said the major, oblivious of his grandson's remarks. Any plea of health was always valld to the i “Yes. ad much better stay much better.” Ellyn will enjoy it any- began Sally comfortingly, as you Howard disappeared, and stopped short as a -tall, thin, abnormally short-skirted young girl came to- ward them, with an agitated expres- sion on her small, pale, snub-nosed countenance. there anything the matter, El- “Oh, nothing, but"—Ellyn was at the age when to make one of a fam- ily party of pleasure was nothing saort of agony. “I do so hate to tell you and the major, but one of my neuralgic headaches is coming on and I think—I'm afraid—I ought not to go out in this weather. I know mother wouldn't want me to be ex- posed.” * “No. of course not!"” said the major, -hastily, in -spite of his stricken countenance. “You mustn't be ex- ‘posed on any account, my dear child. No!" “I feel dreadfully about it, major, dear,” murmured tho girl with a sharp look at Sally, who was flercely silent. Two tickets cast away, and the major had pald seven dollars apiece for them to a speculator. ' Little Maisie May, with her out- standing crop of- curis, gullelessly added her version of the affalr as Ellyn_ran at once. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? The rain was hurling itself at the window with renewed violence. She must manage to get | the Wakeflelds' at the corner and telephone Carleton to have his din- ner in town—as they would all have done but for the baby's needs—and meet them ®here afterward. He | liked to come home and dress first, but he wouldn't mind this time. She must slip out without father's seeing ker. As she splashed through puddles in her arctics, the rain rattling down on her umbrella and Carleton’s mack- intosh, her mind was uncomfortably reverting to the parting from her husband that morning—there had been something lacking. To married lovers each day differeth extremely in glory—there is a deepening of the v of affection, or an imperceptible lessening of it; there are the days that seem to make neither for pro- gression nor retrogression, and yet of which it is dangerous to have too many; non-recognition may slide so far that what should be the thrilling pleasure of recovery turns Into an irritation. It is a fact often over- looked that, taking it by and large, is no belng more Iinwardly © to the changes in domestic atmosphere than the unanalytical American husband. Carleton had gone off that morn- ing, after the vaguely unsympathetic conditions of the past week, with an indefinable effect of glad escape from household demands that impressed itself on her even in his kiss of fare- well. Sally was more in love with her husba.d than when nine years ago they had begun life together; she knew that his love for her had grown also. That was what it was to be really married. But she had a sudden consciousness now that she had perhaps been tiresome in asking him to do a great many things lately. from the first moment he entered the house until he left it; she didn't want him to be glad to get away from her! He never refused to do what she asked of him, but he had told her once that he was exception- ally busy at the office these days. She had a strange sense of their being out of touch. The rain beat in her face and chilled her heart. ‘When she heard his voice she would feel better; he would say, “Stop im- agining things.” She had another Inspiration when Jimmy, the nineteen-year-old son and heir came to her ring at the Wakeflelds'. “Oh, Jimmy, don’t you want to go to the theater with us tonight? My father has two extra tickets.” Jimmy shook his head. “Thank you, but I've got a date myself. Mother's out.” “I only want to use your phone, if I may,” said Sally. *“Ours is out of order.” It seemed hours before central got the right number, but at last— “0, Mr. Truefit, is this you? This is Mrs. May speaking. Is Mr. May there>—What?—Went out after lunch and sald he wouldn’'t be back at the office again?—Do you know where 1 could reach him?>—Had a good many places to go to? No; it's nothing im- portant, thank you! Good-bye.” Out in the storm all that after- noon! As he himself would have expressed it for her, it was rotten luck. She called up a couple of friends who might retrieve the party; one was in bed, the other in Philadel- phia. She tried vainly to get the promise of a taxi later. She care- fully laid the coin for her city call beside the phone before leaving. A rainy evening in town has, at least, its cheerful {illumination of electric lights and flashing motors; there is a sense of populousness, of suburb a rainy winter night is the blackness of desolation. * x ¥ % HE outline of a man bent forward against the storm was the only But her spirit obstinately rose now way to save the day yet. THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. ., JUNE 18 1922_PART 4. HT! HOLY MACKEREL! ] THE SECOND OF A SERIES OF STORIES BY AMERICA’S L'EADING AUTHORS. YOoU Carleton was afflicted with a ll(llc’lhem at every step. If Carleton had toe on his left foot that had to be treated with peculiar consideration If a shoe—which, of course, must not be too tight—were the least bit too droad, fhe toe slipped back under its fellows, to be trodden into agony by been out in the rain all the after- noon in those shoes— Her loving heart swelled with pity for him. Oh, she couldn’t ask him to take another step! She thought swiftly of the time when she had fallen on the ice and hurt her knee and he had carried her all the way home—of all the big crises in which he had so dearly come to her aid. She wouldn't sacrifice him now for any one! If father had to be dis- appointed, he had to be; she would - DONT MEAN YOU WANT TO GO BACK TO TOWN Nowr try to make up to him for it by her companionehip. She dressed hurriedly. There was only one thing left now for her to do; she must manage to speak to Carleton before the major saw him, to at least fend off the blow of his A VIVID VAMP FROM A PAGE IN HISTORY Poppaea Sabina, the Roman Record Breakers BY ANNE JORDAN. OPPAEA SABINA went the per- oxide blonds one better. She had a preparation of stuff that glittered like real gold made in liquid form and had her slaves comb this Into her hair after each shampoo. She was noted for her glittering golden head. Rumors of it reached the palace, where young Nero held sway and sang his home-made verses to bored courtiers, who listened and registered interest on their faces as the salvation of their necks. Nero was bored. His wife Octavia was action, of speed. But in an outlying | constantly nagging him about his mother, Aggripina, killing Claudius so that Nero might reign. So he dressed himself in his Sunday ! go-to-meeting tunic and breezed out to the home of Salvius Otho, who was sign of life as Sally returned home. | married to Poppaea pro tem. Nero took special pains that Otho against failure. She would find some | Wa8 not at home when he made his call. Otho was a major in the regn- The two children were having their [1ar army, and Poppaea recelved her early supper at the little round table , education in vampirish lore through under the big clock in the dining room. Carley looked up to ask, “What's the matter with grandpa' He walks up and down all the time and won't smile.” He looked very old and worn as he caught sight of Sally. “Where have you been?” he asked anxiously. +Only to the Wakeflelds for a min- ute. The rain isn't so bad when you're out in it e lied. He visibly brightened. “That’s just what I've been thinking. Of course, I don't mind weather, never dia! Perhaps Carleton might feel that way, too. She had a sudden buoy- ance of hope as she ran upstairs to change her things. She opened the door of Carleton’s closet by mistake, and saw: The day had a curse on it, that was all there was to it! A glance had shown ‘were mi 3 sown. The fact entertaining scrub lieutenants while Otho was safely beyond the walls of Rome. Poppaea had no idea of ever being queen, but she was quick at mental arithmetic and open to suggestion. 8he won herself a place in the emper- or's heart by asking him to aing. ‘When Nero sang this clever woman jumped from the couch upon which she was reclining and stormed at him. “Ah, such a voice, but such a meth- od of singing! It is horrible to think they would let you mangle your lovely voice in such a manner! Who in the world is your singing teacher? You should sing it this way! Some men are hard headed enough to want to do things their way or the way they have been taught. But not Nero! He listened to every one who could teach him anything about how to sing. He immediately dis- patched messengers to have each of his singing teschers strangled, and’ ever lost to the world. Poppaea won herself a place at the emporor's hearthstone! * ¥ ¥ ¥ THINGS were done to make the “Golden Poll" have a good time. Chariots of gold were made for her to ride in, pulled by slaves who never heard of a union. Banquets were given in halls of gold, and the guests reclined on couches made of silver. Bazars . were ransacked for clothes that were just one jump ahead of the latest fashion plates. The poor merchants hated to see Poppaea coming. She took their best things and said: “Charge it to the emperor,” and Nero didn’t pay his bills. “Yet if they hid anything from her Poppaea sent them a dose of poison, and if the merchant did not take it he was just worse than dead. He dled a little harder. Poppaea enjoyed all this limelight stuff for a while. But she soon de: cided that she was tired of playing in the bush and would make a stab for the big league. She might have rocked along if Octavia had recog- nized her as a “sister under the skin.” But Octavia was the daughter of the ex-Emperor Claudius, and was used to bulling the market before she married.Neéro. She couldn’t see the importance of even real 14-karat gold hair. D What is more, Nero's mother, Ag- gripina, didn’t like Poppaea and her casy consclence. They made some very pointed remarks, and Agsripina even went so far as to suggest that Octavia vamp Brittannus, to make Nero jealous. Now, Brittannus had a very substantial claim to the throné,’ 80 that gave Poppaea good grounds for getting even. She went to Nero and told him that Octavia had a crush on Brittannus and that' Aggripina was hand and glove with them on their intent to usurp the throne. Nero didn't seem to care so much till Poppaea told him that she heard them plotting first to have the menu for-the banquet that evening changed, so that instead of erving humming birds’ tongues they would - serve snake tongues, and Nero's beautiful volce would de for- NERO Was & man of few words and lots of action. First, he sent Salvius Otho—who, after all, had a little legal right to the fair Poppaea —out to Lusitania to hunt for a flower that he never heard of. Next he shipped Octavia off on a vacation from which she never returned. But he hesitated about Aggripina. Final- 1y he had that poor old girl clubbed to death. His own mother, mind you! In this Poppaea holds a vamping rec- ord. When Salvius Otho returned from Lusitania with the fatal flower he found his wife married to Nero and reigning with him. But Nero treated him square about it. He named the flower Salvia for him and composed ! a verse on how lucky Otho was to have had & wife that the emperor ‘wanted. In those days a woman who only ad one husband was laughed at and called a “one-man woman.” Poppaea was a sensitive little plant, and she didn't want people talking about her, 80 she cut up awful to keep from be- ing the topic of conversation. And some good Christians tried to convert her. They were shocked at her wild- ness. And they even went so far as to get word to Nero. Nero got mad, and the fur flew. Then Poppaea remembered that the Christians were shocked at her, and she resolved not to have any one on this earth who did not behave as she did. She put Nero up to byrning Rome so she could collect the insur- ance and build herself a palace en- tirely of gold. She got him to do it by reading to him the history of the burning-of Troy. “Poor dear, just think what a won- derful song you could write and sing it you could only have such an In- spiration as Aenius had. He saw Troy really burning. You have never seen a city burning.” “But my subjects would not let me burn their homes ;even to hear me exclaimed the fat-stomached emperor. “They are 50 selfish they do not appreciate me and my mar- velous voice.” ! “Don’t let them know it. Blame it on this new sect referred to as Chris- been as dead as a door nall for the past two seasons. The high cost of slaves has made it almost necessary | to stop killing more than two or three an evening. You know when we had the last masque of Iphigeni: ven Tegillius refused to give his lovely slave Nada to bec killed by the mon- ster. And if we had some such lovely crime to punish we would have vice tims galore for our amusement. “Besides, Rome is too muchly popu- lated, anyway. Four million people in a city only fifty miles in circumfer- ence! If we could do away with the rabble we conld build it back the way we wanted to, and the people will for- give anything when they hear your beautiful voice.” * kX ¥ POPPAEA was only fostering an idea that had been bussing under Nero's bonnet for some time. He set the tawn on fire, returned from his country seat at Actuim, and, after | consulting evers. one on which pose would be most effective, enfered the city of flames. Standing on the tower of Macaenas, he watched the conflagration and sang his darndest! After which followed gay times for all but the Christians. Lions waked up in the morning and hed, “I can- not eat another Christia: So they had to bury them. Gardens were {lluminated with living torches. | Banquets were held in these gardens. And Poppaea wore her choicest jew- els and few of her best clothes. And as if to make the dying harder, Nero sang while he watched their agony through his big emerald, a custom with the “emp” that afterwards in- vaded England and became a monocle, * But the rage for Christian persecu- tion died out, as all new excitement dies out. It broke out in spurts now and then, but Nero forgot everything except a new friend of his. Poppaea began to nag him about this friend till he got so mad that he kicked her—not metaphorically but ambidextrously. Kicked her so hard that she died. Not long after Nero kicked the bucket himself, and still later Otho, Poppaea’s ex-husband, who had treated her kindly and never would have. kicked her, was emperor. , i By Mary first inevitable words of horrified sur- prise and protest. 8he hugged the baby to her, a little fat warm bundle, as her one com- fort in this dreadful, endless day, before putting him to bed. “Well, you are all dressed, I see” sald the major, sighing. “My, my, it seems to be raining harder than ever! It will be pretty tough om the boy to go out again tonight, and you won't want to go without him. I intended this for a pleasure you, know, my dear, but I suppose we'll Just have to give it up this time.” “Not a bit of it,”” said Sally, with forced cheeriness. “Waste all those lovely tickets? Not much!" She went. to the front door and looked out into the downpour; no signs of her husband. But the major had followed her. 8he got away from him and slipped down the basement stairs to peer out secretly from the lower door. “Where are you, Sally?” he called. “Come up here, my dear.” There began a wild game of hide and seek. Sally and the major, each on the watch for the first glimpse of the homecomer. She swept the chil- dren out of her way, when, evading her father, she dashed up or down to either point of advantage. “Don’t put dinner on the table yet,” she ordered Maggie. Ellyn was having her's on a tray in her room and trying a new com- plexion cream. Howard was still glued to the “Hound of the Basker- villes.” The major settled into a steady walk forward and back in the upper hall, opening the front door at each round to look out, and Sally in desperation took her stand half in the wet arcaway. Would Carleton never come? * * * % T last, at last, through the dark- £ terialized unexpectedly near, as clos- ing his umbrella he turned toward the upper steps. His arms were full of bundies. “Oh, Carleton, Carleton! way, down here!” Her hands groped for him, dragged him to her. The touch of his dear body, even In his wet overcoat, seemed salvation, though he had an effect of resistance, as if the dividing haze of the last few days was still there. “What's the matter? side.” “No, no! wait a moment. I've got to speak where father can't hear. He n the hall above waiting for you.” ‘Say it quick, then! I've been out all the afternoon In these !Infernal shoes. My toe——"" ‘Oh, I know it all, de Her whispered words came in a torrent. “I tried to get you on the phone to remind you—this is the night of father's treat. that he's been plan- ning for months—not tomorrow, as you thought.” “Tonight! Holy mackere! He stood staring incredulously at her In the ray of light from the half- closed door behind them. “Well, you can count me out, then. You don’t mean you want me to go back to town now?' His voice was outraged. “No. no, dear! Don’'t talk so loud. I wouldn’'t have you do that for the world. T've been so sorry for you! ‘But—but- ' Her agonized voice broke. “Please, please, don't speak that way to father. If You can only say something—I don't know what— to sound as if you were disappointed, it might make things easier for him. It's been such a dreadful day! How- ard and Ellyn have been acting up, and won't go, and I can't get any one else on those tickets, and father's heartbroken on your account. I can't tell you how he's been watching the weather; it's nearly killed him.” ™ “Le get Inside,” sald her hus. band again. He deposited his pack- ages on the floor. “Here are the coffee and the bacon and the or- anges. For a moment her world hung in the balance. The small face raised to his was white and drawn, with frightened eyes; so had she looked the night before the baby was born. Come this Let's get in- HE spirit of worship Is in- herent in every human soul. It is perhaps this spirit which marks our kinship to divinity. It is certainly our strongest proof that there is something in us that is im- mortal. Through all the ages of darkness and human ignorance this spark within has made itself m: al- fest. Among the wildest of the sav- age tribes, living farthest away from civilisation, the inspiration to wor- ship has been found. Clvilisation only develops that spark of the di- vine within us and trains us to exer- cise it in a better direction. This same epirit makes us con- soious of our own weakness and it cries out aloud to some great Being, whoever or whatever that be, for help and direction. Left slone, the human soul realises its individual helplessness. There must be a divin- ity to whom we can call for aid. LI FEW hymns have exercised a more widespread influence for good than “Nearer, My God, to Thee” It was written in 1860, and since then it has been sung in all parts of the world, by all classes of people, and has exerted a feeling of uplift not equaled by any other. Our mothers |sang it to us in the days of child- hood, we heard it in our early years of development and there is hardly a reader of these lines whose life has not been Influenced for good by this wonderful song. The author, Sarah Flower Adams, was & well known English writer during the early half of the last century. Her work was populsr, especially her hymns, of which she was the author of many. She was born at Great Harlow, Essex, Eng- land, on February 23, 1805, and died in August, 1848, aged only forty-three years. During that time she accom- plished enough to make her name well known sl over England, and later, by her one popular hymn, all over the world. Bhe married William Bridges Adams, who wae & noted in- vontor. She wrote “Vivia Perpetus,” s drama, which was published in London in 1841 and was widely read. Many of her poems weére set to music and became popular during her life- time and later on. * % ® % Yl‘l‘. out of all Mes. Adams wrote. and much.of it was verv beauti- ness of the deluge his figure ma- | OUR FAMOUS SONGS Nearer, My God, to Thee Stewart Cutting “Hel-10!" he said gently, as he stopped to kiss her. “Why, why, you mustn’t get worked up like this over nothing!” He stopped short with his hand on her arm as the major's voice came from above in tremulous ap- peal. “Oh, rleton, Carleton! you, af tr At the note of tragedy Carleton registered, as they say, consternation; his jaw dropped; he looked wildly around as If for escape. Then his eyes met Bally’s once more. A swift change came over his countenance as he drew his mouth down in & humorous resignstion. A generous kindness seemed to emanate from him as enfolding as light, as he mur- mured: “Well, what do you know about that. SALLY caught her breath—always when she needed it the miracle of his help was made manifest. His arm was around her as they went up- stairs to meet the tall, thin old figure at the top. (lil Is that * % % ¥ “Carleton, you poor boy! You won’t want to go out again “Who minds a little rain?" said his son-in-law hardily. *“Just the night, I'll say, to get off for some fun.” If you had seen father's face then. 0ld? Not & bit of it. “What's this I hear?” Carleton continued. “Two tickets to spare? I'll have to kick off this hoe, it's murdering me. No taxis, of course. I'll settle all this, Don't you worry, Sally, I'm not going to walk, I couldn’t.” He paused for breath as Carley and Mairle hurled themselves upon him in welcome. ere, children, leave your dad alone. I've got to get to the phone!™ “It isn't workin, moaned Sally. “Yes it is. Give mo Mountain 1670. Hello! 1Is this Mr. B. V. ? Well, Bquatty, this is the president of the United Goldfish Creamery Assoclation. Yes, I sup- posed you'd récognize the voice | The missus still away? Anything doing tonight with you and your kid brother? 1 thought not. The ques- tion is, can your car make this house and the 7:30 train afterward” Fine! We're off on a theater bat, the major's party—two tickete to donate The major's some prince, 1'd have | 7ou know. Yes, it rains: we expect to land on Ararat. Are you and Jim in on this? We're only ing you on account of the car, y'un'erstand? Sally's horrified. What did you say? Take us all the way into town? Oh, that's too much. All right, we'll ex- pect you.” He turned to his wife to say, “Never mind my dinner, all 1 want is to change and soak up my feet™ It was a wonderful party. It wasn't only that the hilarious guests motored them all the way Into town, or that | the play was “Peg o' My Heart,” or | that father, dear father, beaming with a touching joy, sat between Carleton and Sally, and saw that no one lost a point. There was besides all this a deep innerglow of pleasure, an overtone of harmony that made itself felt even to those least aware of its cause. *x % A! for the supper at the Bamboula afterward—but why go into de- talle? The major never did things by halves. As Jim remarked, “Oh, boy! That was some cats!” If Bally felt a pang for Ellyn at a remembrance of the girl's face over the banisters as the gay party left the house she stern- ly quenched it. Eillyn would have to learn. It was after their return—sing- ing all the way, father's bass, mind vou, Joining in—that Sally, getting ready for the night, with her hair un- bound, leaned against her husband's shoulder to say: “I don't know how you manage it— you never fail me!" “That's the big idea,” he announced. the tender pressure of his arms around her volced the unspoken words: “And 1 never will!" ful, only one thing lived—her famous hymn, “Nearer, My God, to Thee, It carriod through every line the spirit of intenre devotion, & feeling thst gripped and made sincers the prayer. which the hymn Iitself is People have sung it who have been in the depthe of grief and somehow felt the soothing hand of cheer and hope Iaid upon them. It has turned many a wondering prodigal from the husks of sin to the roadway of right living. Nearer. my God, to Thee, mearer to Thee E'en though it be a cross that ralseth me, 8till all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Dearer to Thee. Though like & wanderer, the sun gone dows Darkness be over me, my rest a stone— fet in my dreams I'a be Nearer, my God, to Thee, searer to Ther. There let the Wiy appear, steps unto heavtn Al that Thou sendest me, 18 merey given, Ragels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee Or 1t on Joytul wing, cleaving the sky, Bun, moon and stars forget, upward I £y, Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee, pearer to Ther. Life on the Planets. Tl!ll possible existence of lfe on the planets has lately been dis-+ cussed in & most interesting manner by American astronomers. This is & summary of the conclusions of these scientists upon the question. It is considered that the existence of & lhln form of 1ife on the moon, Jupl- | ter, Baturn, Mercury, Uranus or Nep» tune, is extremely improbable. Al- though Venus greatly resembles the earth, it is generally believed by as- tronomers that the day snd the year of the planet are of equal duration In that case no life can exist upon it. Concerning Mars, astronomers are not agreed to whether the much- discussed markings are wmnals or merely earthquake cracks. There are no permanent bodies of water on the planet. The best that can be said is that, elthough the temperature on Mars is very low, there may be on a planet, to a limited extent, the con-' ditions essential to life; probabdly oaly vegetable and low-order animal lif but no beings of intelligence. ~ = J