aits;
But be it so or not, I only know
My present duty, and my Lord's command
To occupy till He come. So at the post
Where He has set me in His providence,
I choose, for one, to meet Him face to face--
No faithless servant frightened from my task,
But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls;
And, therefore, with all reverence, I would say,
Let God do His work, we will see to ours.
Bring in the candles." And they brought them in.

Tuesday, September 7, 1881, was a day very similar to the memorable one
of a century ago. A strange, greenish-yellow pall overspread the
heavens, and so darkened the light of the sun that lamps and gas were
lighted, schools and factories closed, and multitudes of the ignorant
and superstitious believed that the Day of Judgment had come.

Everything looked changed and unnatural. The faces of people on the
streets were ghastly, the gas jets in the stores, instead of showing
yellow, were as white and clear as the electric lights, and thousands of
the sect known as Second Adventists gathered in their places of worship
and confidently awaited the appearing of the Lord.

The "dark day" was more wonderful in the country. The leaves and
withering foliage assumed a most singular tint of green, changing, like
that of the grass, to a brownish hue; fowls went to roost, and the
animal creation must have been greatly mystified by a phenomenon such as
they had never witnessed before.

A curious feature of this luminous haze was that it cast no shadow. It
was as light under the trees as away from them, the whole unnatural
appearance of things most likely being due to the immense forest fires
which were raging in many parts of the country.

It was during the summer, I repeat, in which Nick Ribsam reached the age
of twelve years, that so many forest fires raged, and it was in the
autumn of the same year that he saw the famous dark day, so similar to
that of September, 1881; in fact, it could not have resembled it more
closely, for I may as well state it was that very day to which I refer.

"Nick," said his father, on that September morning, addressing his boy
in Dutch, "I promised to pay James Bradley one hundred dollars to-day
before three o'clock."

"Yes, sir," responded the boy, who knew that the debt would be paid on
time.

"He was to come here to our house to get it, but he sent me word last
night that he would be much obliged if I would send it to him at