L

IFE is a span and youth but yesterday, yet, in carefully recounting the changes that memory brings to view, it seems like stepping over the ages.

I knew the flourishing city of modern Bagdad when it was a hamlet sleeping by the beautiful river. I knew every dog and every horse and, of course, knew all the boys of the place. Among them was one older than myself, who bore the philosophical name of Seneca.

I did not know then that his name was classic, and he knew no other pronunciation than Sinniky. While I was quite young, he disappeared from ice-pond and playground, and all that we others knew was that he had gone off with the Shakers. What that meant was hard to understand. I began to realize that there were mysteries in life and something in human nature quite beyond comprehension.

Sinniky had never been very playful and was rather shy, and now he was pronounced green, and that word was sufficient for our philosophy.

Years passed and Sinniky was occasionally thought of and with that horror that attached to a sect that lives apart. I was engaged in the ardent pursuit of science at an academy in the suburbs of the town, but, com. ing one day to the boarding house with a troup of the gayest youths of both sexes, there, sitting on the sofa, was Sinniky quite recognizable though dressed in Shaker costume, a suit of tweed, vest buttoned straight and long coat without collar or lappel. Tom was the name of our leader and hero and was an old acquaintance of Sinniky's, and I waited to see what Tom would do. He turned away and gave an accustomed snort. That was a settlement of the question of etiquette. Sinniky was invited out to dinner but replied that he ate but twice a day and it was not his customary hour. No persuasion of the mistress of the house could move him. What an outrage we thought. A table surrounded by pretty girls, wit sparkling all around the board, every faculty of the mind and

emotion of the heart thrilled and exalted by the surroundings. In sight was the beautiful river, all around were the hazy hills and green fields, birds and breezes, laughter and love, and there was a young man in his prime, in health, who had turned his back on all of these, had sold his birthright, had given up his place in the throng that marched under bright banners to their high future. Were we fools that he should treat our pursuits as vanity and our objects as phantoms? Did he sit there to rebuke us? What was he there for where youth and beauty met to chase the glowing hours with flying thought? Why, if he were dead to the world, didn't he go and haunt the graveyards? There was one close by.

His presence was a reproach, more, he was a renegade, had turned from his associates, had forsaken his home, did not appreciate the blessing showered on his place of birth. The beauty and the grandeur of sky and stream were lost on his dull eyes, unworthy so fair a heritage, unworthy of those classic shades devoted to the muse. Yea, why insult us in our favorite domain? Dare you bring your vagaries to this hall of science? We have the immortal thoughts of ancients, poets, and all wisdom of the ages.

But Sinniky was not moved by slight or frown. His look was benign and calm. Doubtless he was ready to express a kindly interest in us, to impart to us something of the peace he had found, to tell of the salvation Mother A. had wrought, of the true idea of social intercourse, the true preparation for immortal life, the beginning of the angel life on earth by neither marrying nor giving in marri age, but he got no opportunity. What he came for or whence and whither he went we did not concern ourselves to ask.

I gave up everything else in life to seek fortune. I found it in the far West, but found it at the expense of irreplaceable years and then lost it and had nothing, and the scene be

came too dark to picture. Years of desperation made me willing to accept the truth, but other years of searching failed to find it. It was not where I was. I got to know that much.

Failing to find it on the earth, I looked to heaven, and there I found the promise of it, but there was a vail I could not rend. I made my vision clear by fasting and devotion but yet had to wait and watch while the wheeling stars kept on their way and rolled the beautiful river.

One came at last who said he was sent to hunt for such as I. I understood his message well, and had it indorsed direct from heaven. I did not stay to get acquainted with my brethren. I gathered up the cast off remnants of life and found I had quite a store of experience, nothing more, but felt ennobled by the recognition of heaven.

Strong currents of emotion that reason did not question impelled me to my native place. My starved affection had lain dormant gathering force and vigor all these years. I was bewildered with emotion. My own kindred received me with kindness, though they were like Aunt Peggotty, didn't know what to do with me.

One old schoolmate, grown famous for learning, said she didn't care if I thought the moon was made of green cheese. That encouraged me, but I soon found that my experiences were a matter of simply kind indifference. I met others who had once regarded me as an embodiment of every virtue of earth and every grace of heaven. My enthusiasm was kindled and I told them my whole story and again called, thinking to renew the sweet communion, but a change had come, conversation lagged and finally the question was asked, "So you believe that Joe Smith was about right, do you?" I began to make explanations but was interrupted with, "I should think you would prefer to associate with those of your own faith." I involuntarily reached for my hat but reconsidered. The subject was changed and I sat out the day. I met a carriage full of old friends. My heart leaped at the sight and they were evidently glad, but, the greeting over, a young lady

said, "We hear you have joined the Mormons." "O yes," and I gave a hasty account of myself closing with the salvo that the church I belonged to was the only effective opposition the Salt Lake faction had.

I called on an old friend with whom I had I had engineered the Mississippi. There was no reserve in his greeting. When we had talked long he said, "Nym, I always expected this from the time you were a boy. I knew you would do something like this."

I rode in a carriage with my old teachers. They were so attentive that I gave way to bursts of enthusiasm that reminded them of the proprieties of their situation in life, and he I most loved and honored among men said, "We don't wish to be considered as belonging to the class that have itching ears.

I had promised to call at their house and did so. There was the scene of my early triumphs and the very place of Sinniky's defeat. The atmosphere was different from what it was in the carriage. The younger members who knew me well were silent or reserved. One or two old folks talked to me for awhile. The teacher in kindness brought out his scientific apparatus but could not interest me. The pictures on the walls spoke of departed joys, the pictures from the windows mocked me with a semblance of the unrestorable charm. I could not break the spell. The gathering shades of evening came to my relief and I retreated, feeling that the Mecca of my pilgrimage was reached.

I took part in some public gatherings. Some of my old comrades and acquaintances had got very rich by perjury and fraud against the government in time of the war. It was painful to see them honored by my old Sabbath school teachers and by the whole community.

I got a letter from a distant friend. I opened with eagerness and read, "I thought well of you. thought well of you. I thought you were one of God's clean-hearted children, but you've joined that nasty, stinking Mormon," etc., etc. Tears rained from my eyes. My father said, "They will try you very severely if you persist.