on the present. But, to employ a
figure of speech, the fly-paper beckons to the insect toothsomely, and,
thinks he; 'Shall I give it a try? Shall I? Shall I give it a try?' The
future is in his own hands to make or unmake. The past, the voice of
Providence, has counselled him: 'Leave it alone, leave it alone, little
fly. Go away from there.' Does he heed the warning? Does he heed it,
ladies and gentlemen? Does he? Ah, no! He springs into the air, decides
between the two attractions, one of them, so deadly to his interests
and--_drops upon the fly-paper to perish miserably_! The future is in
his hands no longer. We must lie upon the bed that we have made, nor can
Providence change its unalterable decrees."

After the tragedy, the orator took a swallow of water, mopped his brow
with the figured handkerchief and announced that a new point herewith
presented itself for consideration. The audience sank back with a gasp
of release from the strain of attention. Minnie Briscoe, leaning back,
breathless like the others, became conscious that a tremor agitated
her visitor. Miss Sherwood had bent her head behind the shelter of the
judge's broad shoulders; was shaking slightly and had covered her face
with her hands.

"What is it, Helen?" whispered Miss Briscoe, anxiously. "What is it? Is
something the matter?"

"Nothing. Nothing, dear." She dropped her hands from her face. Her
cheeks were deep crimson, and she bit her lip with determination.

"Oh, but there is! Why, you've tears in your eyes. Are you faint? What
is it?"

"It is only--only----" Miss Sherwood choked, then cast a swift glance at
the profile of the melancholy young man. The perfectly dismal decorum of
this gentleman seemed to inspire her to maintain her own gravity. "It
is only that it seemed such a pity about that fly," she explained. From
where they sat the journalistic silhouette was plainly visible, and both
Fisbee and Miss Sherwood looked toward it often, the former with the
wistful, apologetic fidelity one sees in the eyes of an old setter
watching his master.

When the lecture was over many of the audience pressed forward to shake
the Hon. Mr. Halloway's hand. Tom Martin hooked his arm in that of the
sallow gentleman and passed out with him.

"Mighty humanizin' view Kedge took of that there insect," remarked Mr.
Martin. "I don't recollect I ever heard of no mournfuller error
than that'n. I noticed you spoke of Halloway as a 'thinker,' without
mentionin