Ah, my friends, there ls an hour cora?
ng when our past life will probably
pass before us In review. It will be
)ur last hour. If from our death pillow
ne have to look back and see a life
spent in sinful amusement, there will
oe a dart that will strike through our
?oul sharper than the dagger with
which Vlrglnlus slew his child. The
memory of the past will make us quake
like Macbeth; the Iniquities and rioting
through which we have passed will
come upon us weird and skeleton as
Meg Merrllles. Death, the old Shy?
lock, will demand and take the remain?
ing pound of flesh and tbe remaining
drop of blood, and upon our last oppor?
tunity for repentance and our last
chance for heaven the curtain will for?
ever drop.
[Copyright. 1601, by Louis Klopsch, N. T.l
Mixed the Services.
In lils reminiscences of his early days
at Oxford Max Muller tells of one of
the canons of Christchurch v.ho had
spent half a century in tho place and
read the lessons there twice every day.
Of course he knew the prayer hook by
heart, and as loug as he could sea to
read there was uo harm in his reading,
but wheu his eyesight failed him and
he had to trust entirely to h's memory
he would often go from some word In
tbe evening prayer to the same word In
the marriage service and from there to
the burial service, with au occasional
slip into baptism. The result was that
he was no longer allowed to road the
service in chapel except during long
vacatiOD, when the young men were
away.
Back Action Joke.
