THE MADONNA The unblemished beauty of her face was but the natural bloom of the inner life. It is said the highest ambition those peasant parents have for their children from the day of their birth, and even before, is that they may be worthy to some time have a part in the "Passion Play." And so, living in the atmosphere of the Madonna, inheriting through generations the spirit of the Madonna, continually surrounded by the ideals of the Madonna, and with a Madonna ever beaming upon her from the walls of her room-the first to greet her in the morning, the last to look the soft, sweet look at night—is it any wonder the Madonna bloomed from her soul and shone in her face? Reflecting as a mirror the glory of that face, she was changed into the same image, from glory to glory. Pure thoughts are God's paint brushes. They put color, and tone, and beauty into the face. Purity of thought and beauty of soul find their fruitage in the face of beauty. The inner transforms the outer. The fine lines, the strength of features, the perfect coloring, the nobility of expression all blending into a face of beauty t sketches upon breathless canvas est product of the painter's art. the fragrance of a right life than the e of all the flowers. Victoria lived the hills of God, and she knew the the upper trail. IT The Orphan was several summers ago when the incident here set down took place. You have doubtless sat in public audiences where the speaker upon the platform was not the only voice to be heard. When the baby voice is as continuous as the one speaking by previous announcement, it is neither pleasing to the ears nor soothing to the nerves, as any one who has passed through the experience will testify. On the occasion here mentioned, I found my way into the large auditorium at the morning hour to hear the address of a particularly noted speaker. I soon discovered that just to my left sat a father and mother with a babe perhaps nine or ten months old. The speaker of the hour, and the babe of that same hour, started the program about the same time. The babe fretted, and fussed, and whined, and squalled. I looked my very fiercest at the mother, as if to say, "Why have you committed the unpardonable sin of bring ing the youngster in here?" but she seemed not the least perturbed, and showed no disposition to remove the disturber of the peace. Both parents were kept constantly busy trying to quiet the child. I thought I never saw a homelier baby, nor one with a voice so unmusical and disagreeable. Was there no remedy for this pestilence? They gave it the bottle, with no satisfactory results. They patted it (though not as hard as I thought they should), they caressed it, they talked and cooed; they turned it on its back, and then reversed that order-they did everything it seemed that mortals could do-but the cry continued. I was frantic. The speaker's message was lost to me. The morning was wasted. I felt as if the world was badly organized and poorly managed. Babies were an inexcusable nuisance. And parents that did not know how to manage them and where to take them were even worse. Public assemblies were not calculated for such trouble-makers. had no business there. They When the afternoon hour arrived for the address of another famous speaker, I found myself again in the tabernacle and THE ORPHAN ready for the message. This time I took a seat over on the opposite side from where I sat in the morning. And you are now thinking that I would not suffer a repetition of what I had experienced on the previous occasion. Imagine my surprise, then, when a moment later I heard just behind me a sound which attracted my attention, and, on looking around, saw there in the next row of seats the same parents and the same baby. Was I angry? I was not. I was delighted. I was actually happy. I really thought that was about the sweetest baby I had ever seen. Its very whining and whimpering was music to me. Its voice was charming. I could not keep my curious eyes from its little face -it looked so sweet. And the father and mother? They were good to see. Their faces shone with splendor. The transfiguration scene presented none fairer than they. Why this change, so quickly wrought? And where was the change, anyway? Was it in the parents and the child, or was it in me? Clearly the change was with me. In the morning the picture was blurred by my ignorance. I did not know the facts. Since taking my seat in the after |