there was a thicker veil drawn over the past. The
memory of that one event grew less and less distinct; though it was
not obliterated, for nothing that is written in the Book of Life is
ever blotted out. There were reasons, even in long years after his
marriage, when the record stood suddenly before him, as if written
in words of light; and he would turn from it with a feeling of pain.

Thus it is that our present blesses or curses our future. Every act
of our lives affects the coming time for good or evil. We make our
own destiny, and make it always in the present. The past is gone,
the future is yet to come. The present only is ours, and, according
to what we do in the present, will be the records of the past and
its influence on the future. They are only wise who wisely regard
their actions in the present.

THE BRILLIANT AND THE COMMONPLACE.

DAY after day I worked at my life-task, and worked in an earnest
spirit. Not much did I seem to accomplish; yet the little that was
done had on it the impress of good. Still, I was dissatisfied,
because my gifts were less dazzling than those of which many around
me could boast. When I thought of the brilliant ones sparkling in
the firmament of literature, and filling the eyes of admiring
thousands, something like the evil spirit of envy came into my heart
and threw a shadow upon my feelings. I was troubled because I had
not their gifts. I wished to shine with a stronger light. To dazzle,
as well as to warm and vivify.

Not long ago, there came among us one whom nature had richly
endowed. His mind possessed exceeding brilliancy. Flashes of
thought, like lightning from summer cloud, were ever filling the air
around him. There was a stateliness in the movement of his
intellect, and an evidence of power, that oppressed you at times
with wonder.

Around him gathered the lesser lights in the hemisphere of thought,
and veiled their feeble rays beneath his excessive brightness. He
seemed conscious of his superior gifts and displayed them more like
a giant beating the air to excite wonder, than putting forth his
strength to accomplish a good and noble work. Still, I was oppressed
and paralyzed by the sphere of his presence. I felt puny and weak
beside him, and unhappy because I was not gifted with equal power.

It so happened that a work of mine, upon which the maker's name was
not stamped--work done with a purpose of good--was spoken of and
praised by one who did not kn