VII.

Three months later, when his orphans were led by their mother a second
time to visit the humble cemetery of the village near Haerlem, they found
a little old man writing rapidly, with a piece of charcoal, a few strange
words on the stone under which the body of their father, the Minister,
had been laid. When they came close to the spot, the old man ceased, and
pointed out to them, with an awful look, that which he had written.
After the inscription, "John Durer, formerly Minister to his Majesty the
Emperor of Germany," the old man had written--

"Heaven requites ingratitude."




THE STORY OF A WEDGE.

BY REV. C. H. MEAD.

For more than a hundred miles, I had traveled, having the entire seat to
myself.

Aside from the selfishness of the average traveler, who, while unwilling
to pay for more sitting, is more than willing to monopolize the whole
seat, I was glad of plenty of elbow room to enable me to answer some
pressing letters.

But as the car began to fill up, I knew the bag at my side must soon give
way to another kind of neighbor, and presently down the aisle he came.