declared way, to be a Christian
philosopher. And he would try it now. He had been, for an hour after his
mishap, walking more rapidly than was his habit up and down the entire
length of the hall that divided the house into two distinct sides, and
his head had hung low upon his bosom. He had been pondering. Or perhaps
he had been praying. His dilemma was by no means a thing to be taken
lightly.

Suddenly realizing, however, that he had squandered the greater part of
a valuable afternoon in useless repining, he now lifted his head and
glanced about him.

"I'm a-goin' to find them blame spec's--eyes or no eyes!" He spoke with
a steady voice that had in it the ring of the invincible spirit that
dares failure. And now, having resolved and spoken, he turned and
entered the dining-room--and sat down. It was here that he remembered
having last used the glasses. He would sit here and think.

It was a rather small room, which would have been an advantage in
ordinary circumstances. But to the elder its dimensions were an
insurmountable difficulty. How can one compass a forty-rod focus within
the limits of a twelve by sixteen foot room?

But if his eyes could not help him, his hands must. He had taken as few
steps as possible in going about the room, lest he should tread upon the
glasses unawares; and now, stepping gingerly, and sometimes merely
pushing his feet along, he approached his writing-table and sat down
before it. Then he began to feel. It was a tedious experiment and a
hazardous one, and after a few moments of nervous and fruitless groping,
he sought relief in expression.

"That's right! turn over!" he exclaimed. "I s'pose you're the red ink!
Now if I could jest capsize the mucilage-bottle an' my bag o' snuff, an'
stir in that Seidlitz-powder I laid out here to take, it would be purty
cheerful for them fiddle-de-dees an' furbelows thet's layin' everywhere.
I hope they'll ketch it ef anything does! They's nothin' I feel so much
like doin' ez takin' a spoon to the whole business!"

The elder was a popular father, grandfather, uncle, husband, and
Bible-class teacher to a band of devoted women of needle-work and
hand-painting proclivities, and his writing-table was a favorite target
for their patiently wrought love-missiles.

One of the strongest evidences of the old man's kindliness of nature was
that it was only when he was wrought up to the point of desperation, as
now, that he spoke his mind about the gewgaws whi