A Cathedral Singer

hout the mother's return, their thought and their talk concerned itself more and more with her disapp

, the teacher of the class entered. He looked shocked; his look shoc

; they are not even news. He was taken to St. Luke's, and she has been at St. Luke's, and the end came at St. Luke's, and all the time we have been here a few yards distant and have known nothing of it. Such is New York! It was to help pay for his education in music that she first came to us, she said. And it was the news that he had been chosen for the c

h was in her face and which you have partly caught upon your canvases, has died out; it was brutally put out. The old look is gone. It is gone, and will never come back-the tender, brooding, reverent happiness and peace of motherhood with the child at her knee-that great earthly beacon-light in women of ages past. It was brutally put out but it did not leave blankness behind it. There has come in its place another light

able to notice,-but she stepped forward as usual, and climbed to the platform without faltering, and he posed her for the head and shoulders. Then, to study the effect from different angles, he

cognize it

when she beheld there the light now gone out and realized that it meant the end of happy days with him, she shut her eyes quickly and jerked her head to one side with a motion f

platform, and tried to hide her from one another's eyes, and knelt down, and wound their arm

r a veil, "some of these young friends will go home with you. And whenever you wish, whenever y

slowly, as the great houses of man'

human lives has already measured its brief span about the cornerstones. Far-brought, many-tongued toilers, toiling on the rising walls, have dropped their work and stretched themselves in their last sleep; others have climbed to their places; the work goes on. Upon the shoulders of the images of the Apostles, which stand about the chancel, generations of pigeons-the doves of the temple whose ne

ague of the world's august sanctuaries. It begins to send its annunciation onward into ages yet to be, so remote, so strange

in a present that answers back to it more and more. For a world of living-men and women see kindled there the same ancient flame that has been the light of all earlier stations on that solitary road of f

it, begin to look toward it, begin to grow familiar with its emerging form. In imagination they see its chapels bathed in the glories of the morning sun; they remember its unfinished dome gilded at the hush of sunsets. Between the roar of the eastern and of the western ocean its

rock for the order of the streets, for order in the land and order throughout the world, for order in the secret places of the soul. Majestical rebuker of the was

through space and time; bu

its innumerable years, to fall into the spiritual splendor of it as out in space small darkened wanderers drop into the orbit of a sun. Anguished memories begin to bequeath their jewels to its shrine; dimmed eyes

t gathered her into its service; it found useful work for her to do; and in this new life of hers it drew out of her nature the last thing that i

ad needed him whom she had brought into the world. It had called upon him to help give song to its m

shed tenderly against her as he walked by, whom no one else saw. Rising above the actual voic

d looking across at the park hillside opposite. Whenever spring came back and the slope lived again with young leaves and white blossoms, always

anding besid

er face the look o

ere on its rock

surrection a

E