ound him, it was the light of the unending morning that was on
his face. His Master had at last come for him, and after his long
waiting, Ole 'Stracted had indeed gone home.

OUR CONSUL AT CARLSRUHE
-----------------------
BY F. J. STIMSON

_Frederic Jesup Stimson is a prominent lawyer of Boston. He is a member
of the New York and Boston bars and is a special lecturer at Harvard.
He has been more or less identified with State politics in
Massachusetts for a great many years, was Assistant Attorney-General of
the State in 1884-85, general counsel to the United States Industrial
Commission, and Democratic candidate for Congress in 1902. In addition
to being the author of several novels, essays, etc., Mr. Stimson has
written a number of law books. His earlier novels were published under
the pen-name of "J. S. of Dale." Mr. Stimsorfs latest novel is entitled
"In Cure of Her Soul". The hero of the story, Austin Pinckney, is a son
of the "Consul at Carlsruhe."_

OUR CONSUL AT CARLSRUHE
BY F. J. STIMSON ("J. S. OF DALE")
[Footnote: By permission of the publishers, from "The Sentimental
Calendar," by J. S. of Dale (F. J. Stimson). Copyright, 1886, by
Charles Scribner's Sons.]

DIED.--_In Baden, Germany, the 22d instant, Charles Austin Pinckney,
late U. S. Consul at Carlsruhe, aged sixty years._

There: most stories of men's lives end with the epitaph, but this of
Pinckney's shall begin there. If we, as haply God or Devil can, could
unroof the houses of men's souls, if their visible works were of their
hearts rather than their brains, we should know strange things. And
this alone, of all the possible, is certain. For bethink you, how men
appear to their Creator, as He looks down into the soul, that matrix of
their visible lives we find so hard to localize and yet so sure to be.
For all of us believe in self, and few of us but are forced, one way or
another, to grant existence to some selves outside of us. Can you not
fancy that men's souls, like their farms, would show here a patch of
grain, and there the tares; there the weeds and here the sowing; over
this place the rain has been, and that other, to one looking down upon
it from afar, seems brown and desolate, wasted by fire or made arid by
the drought? In this man's life is a poor beginning, but a better end;
in this other's we see the foundations, the staging, and the schemes of
mighty structures, now stopped, given over, or abandoned; of vessels,
fashion