Bit by bit Ishma communicated her hopeful words to Japho as she talked to him from the hillside in the evening, and hope and faith took deep root in their hearts and grew strong as the days went by.

Ishma stood at the door of Rachel's home one sunny morning in the thirty-fourth year looking out across the fair country with a wistful, longing face. She was lonely and longing for Rachel, who had gone away to the city. It was now the fourth day of the first month, and she had been expected back by the first. Ishma watched the narrow trail that stretched away in the distance, but a single lone traveler going in the direction of the city was all that came into view. Looking up at last from her reverie she noticed that the sky, but a few moments before clear and bright, was now becoming overcast with clouds, heavy, portentous clouds, that seemed to be gathering thick and fast. Alarmed at the suddenness of the change, Ishma hastened to place everything that needed protection under shelter and to close the windows and doors, her desire for Rachel's company increasing, as she had seldom been alone in a storm.

When everything was done she waited, watching the clouds till the storm burst upon the village. In her short life she had no memory of a tempest like this. The lightning, sharp and vivid, flashed with terrific brightness, and the thunder seemed to shake the earth as if it would divide it asunder. Naturally timid, Ishma's heart was filled with terror, and when at length in the midst of the storm there was a mighty upheaval and the whole earth seemed to shake, she rushed to the door and out into the tempest, the tottering, trembling, swaying house behind her soon a mass of ruins. There was danger on every hand, for buildings and trees were falling, and flames could be seen ascending in a little while from places where the lightning had done deadly work, and the uncertainty of the earth beneath her feet terrorized the girl's heart as she sought for shelter amid the tempest. Here and there in the darkness by the flashes of lightning she found shelter at times, only to be driven from it again in the fear of it tumbling upon her. Now and then she found human companions, inhabitants of the hamlet, who like herself were seeking shelter, only to be separated from them again in the storm.

"It is the end of the world," said Ishma, "and God has forsaken us. I will go to Japho, if he yet be living, for the earth will soon perish anyway, and I am faint with fear."

Instinctively she followed the well-known way, broken up and changed as it now was, feeling her way by means of a strong stick, lest perchance she fall into some deep crevice made by the earthquake, and guided well by the frequent flashes of lightning that illumined the way before her. In this manner she at last reached the slope, and calling loudly between the bursts of thunder, "Japho, Japho!" she heard at last the welcome response, "Ishma!"

And Japho was powerless to restrain her after he had called her name, for a vivid flash of lightning at that moment revealed him to her but a little way off, and she reached him in that tempest

that seemed a more fearful menace than the dreaded leprosy itself. They were united again even though it be but to die, and if not to be death in reality, a living death.

She felt Japho's strong form tremble as he supported her and tried to comfort her with words of faith and hope, as she had often done him from the slope in the evenings, and before the tempest had ceased at the end of three dreadful hours he had succeeded in calming her and restoring a portion of her courage. When it had passed, the dreadful pall of blackness settled over all, which no light could penetrate. Amid the mist the brother and sister searched for stones and finding them tried to strike a light, but not a glimmer came from the friction of the stones. Amid this darkness the voice of the Mighty One spoke crying woe to the inhabitants of the earth and speaking in thunder tones to the people, calling them to repent, and the sound of that voice pierced the souls of the people with fear and sorrow for their iniquities.

When the third day of darkness had passed away and morning came again, with it came the welcome light of the sun. While it brought joy and gladness to many, it brought bitter pain to the heart of Japho, who stood with his sister near the ruins of the stone wall that had inclosed the leper village and looked down at her face by his side, still pallid from the scenes of those terrible. hours, but lightened now by the glow of morn. A face so fair and sweet that it wrung his heart to think of what the future must

mean.

"And we are spared," he said sadly, "while cities have fallen!" "Yes, is it not strange?" said Ishma, turning her face from the light to look into her brother's eyes, "and how good it is to live and to see the light of day once more!"

"It were better had we been swallowed up," he said still more sorrowfully, "better than this living death which now thou must suffer as well as I."

"Nay, brother, but perhaps we shall rejoice together yet," said Ishma. "Perhaps the Messiah will yet come to us as he has promised," she added, the words of Rachel coming again to her mind.

"Perhaps," replied her brother, "and it is not right to complain. We will trust in the Mighty One of Israel, and did not the voice say that spoke in the darkness that we were the more righteous that were spared, and will he now turn a deaf ear unto us?"

"Nay," said Ishma, "he will not. I know he will not. We will stay together till he comes, and bear our misfortune together till that time."

Some days after this an assembly began forming around the temple in the land Bountiful to talk over the great and marvelous things that had happened and the changes that had taken place, and Japho and Ishma wandered far on the outskirts. Standing thus apart from the others they watched the assembly as they conversed, when suddenly from out the heavens a voice spoke, which though not loud or harsh, seemed to pierce them to the center. Twice it spoke and once again before they understood, and then the

assembly looked steadfastly toward the heavens from whence the voice seemed to come. They saw descending from the heavens a man clothed in a white robe, descending until he stood in their midst, and stretching forth his hand said, "Behold, I am Jesus Christ, of whom the prophets testified should come into the world. I am the light of the world."

"It is truly the Messiah," said Ishma in an awed whisper, "he hath come as Rachel said." And they, with the multitude, bowed themselves to the earth.

Never to be forgotten by those that assembled there that day was the wonderful event when the Master spoke to that humbled and repentant people. The moments and hours spent under the sound of his voice and in his presence, while the Spirit stirred their hearts, were such moments and hours of bliss as are granted to but few of earth's children in this life. When at last feeling that they were too weak to understand his words, and he would have sent them away, his pity and compassion permitted them to stay yet a little longer, as he bade them to bring their sick and afflicted to him.

"List!" said Ishma in a tense whisper, "we may go now, for he bids even the lepers to come to him to be healed. And since he has spared us among the more righteous, he will cleanse us and make us whole."

"Be it so," responded Japho, "let us go at once."

Together they moved down the hill, and the assembly made way for them to pass near to his presence, and then with one accord the whole multitude moved forward with their sick and all that were afflicted in any manner, and he healed every one that was brought to him, and all they that were present bowed down and worshiped before him.

Ah, who can paint that picture? Who can describe the joy those people felt that day while under the sound of his matchless voice? For the Messiah, the Christ, the Redeemer of the world, had come to release from sin and disease, to set at liberty the captive, and to establish his kingdom again among them. Christ, the risen Lord, had come.

Success with Honor.

I

By Willis W. Kearney.

'N THE January number of the Designer there appeared an editorial entitled, "Have you pride of ancestry?" which has in it many good thoughts concerning the highest and best aristocracy, which, in these days of mammon worship, are refreshing.

The writer says: "Long ago, in the forties, there lived a certain honorable old gentleman who was occasionally spoken of in the press as deserving of public recognition, but the trouble was that he was too good for any of the offices that became vacant. Also, the old gentleman had been so careless as to remain poor.

"Finally, however, there came an opportunity to send a special envoy to the court of Saint James, which, as everybody knows, is. another way of saying England. There would be nothing in the job but honor, and it would only last a few weeks, so, as very few people of proper appearance and reputation wanted it, the president appointed our old gentleman.

"Doubtless he discharged his duties with the fine conscientiousness for which he was found, but our interest in him lies in the following letter which he sent to a friend.

""Having fulfilled my mission, my wife and I received a courteous invitation from the queen to visit her at Windsor Castle from Saturday until Monday. I will not attempt to describe the wonders of that splendid place. Nor need I tell of the anxieties of my wife lest we make a poor appearance at the court. Surely it would have been more seemly had this office been given to some richer and more presentable man, since, as you well know, I am far too humble in person, and likewise my wife, to shine amid pretentious surroundings.

"Yet I doubt not that even such another would have found much to trouble him in a royal castle where the everyday life is on a scale that would make our most stately government functions appear a mere parlor entertainment.

"My poor wife was obliged on both evenings to appear in the one silk gown of her possession, and I could not but observe that portions of it seemed strangely conspicuous, from the fact that the cut and shape were not at all in the fashion prevailing among these people.

"For myself, the ordinary evening dress of a gentleman, though old, never seems out of place, despite the fact that my good wife remarked that my woolen stockings were the only ones in a company where all wore silk.

"However, her Majesty assumed toward us both an air of solicitude, that, coming from so august a personage, could not fail to mark us as being of some distinction. She inquired with simple directness about the domestic affairs of my wife and family, while her husband, the Prince Consort, plied me most intelligently with questions concerning our agriculture. He seemed pleased with the

fund of exact knowledge which I possess, and made some notes therefrom.

""Thus all passed pleasantly, and on Sunday night they bade us a most cordial adieu, as we were to leave the castle at an early hour on the following day.

"It was here that we met our most serious embarrassment. As we made our departure through the main entrance I felt deeply touched by the attendance of many servitors, drawn up in double lines, between which we must pass. Deep in these thoughts of appreciation, I was about to greet them civilly, when my wife with that wider knowledge of these affairs which seems natural to women, whispered that they expected presents of money.

"For a moment I was bewildered, but quickly recovering myself, led my wife past them all, bowing pleasantly to each in turn. There may have been a shade of disappointment in their glances, but when I turned at the end of the line, and raising my hand said: "God be with you, my friends; God prosper you each and every one,' there was none, among them that failed to join in the hearty cheer with which they responded. So we left that place feeling more deeply than ever the certainty of the universal brotherhood and sympathy of man.' . . .

"The children of the old scientist diplomat, now in the fourth generation, stand high in the regard of the Nation, for they have clung, almost fanatically, to the traditions of his name. Some of them are rich, some are poor, but all hold their heads high, and all keep before them the closing sentences of his great letter.

"Success with honor might be called their motto. And, following the example of their great progenitor, they account many things success that do not bring financial rewards. . . .

"So it is with practically everyone of us. Somewhere in the family is a name that stands out from, and above, the common run. That is the name to study, to become proud of, and then to live up to, or beyond.

"That is the right kind of an aristocracy; that way lies success with honor.

"To the few who can not find such an ancestor-why not be one?” The meat in the foregoing, to my way of thinking, is this: That a truly successful life does not mean necessarily, one that has amassed great hoards of wealth of the things of this world, which perish, which he brought not into the world, and can not take hence; that the highest measure of success is achieved by him who does most for the general uplift of humanity.

Measured by this standard, Jesus of Nazareth was undoubtedly the most successful man that ever trod the earth, of whom it was said that he had not where to lay his head.

This writer conveys the thought that pride in birth, the desire to "make good with the name," should impel the members of this family to almost unlimited effort toward winning success, yet it occurred to me that all the things spoken of by this writer pertained to this world, and were worldly, and as such fell far short of the greatest measure of success attainable by mankind.