ged with gold. The sailors admire his
splendor; they gather around him as he walks the deck with his flying
robe. They put forth their rough hands to feel its soft texture; its
warm, bright color gives pleasure to their eyes. As they gaze their
pulses heighten, their steps become unsteady, their eyes wander from
duty, their great sturdy frames quiver with emotion. The captain rallies
them, but in vain.

What secret foe is in their midst? Their parched tongues, cleaving to the
roofs of their mouths, call for the surgeon. He comes--he questions,
"From whence comest thou?" "From the Orient," the traveller replies. The
surgeon gasps and shakes his head. He, too, is stricken with fear. "'Tis
the _plague_!" he whispers. An unseen, deadly foe is stalking beneath
that gay cloak! The traveller hears and shudders; he flings off his gay
vestment. The waves gather up the silken folds. But the sacrifice is
useless. A fell hand strikes down both traveller and sailor. As they gasp
and die they are hurried to the ship's side; they are plunged overboard;
a seething, foaming grave yawns to receive them.

The ship glides on. Those who remain wash the deck with water. They
cannot wash away the demon, which is everywhere and yet nowhere....
Poisons as subtle attend the human spirit, baneful and contagious as the
plague!

See yonder peaceful cottage, nestling by the hillside; hope and
contentment dwell therein; within its walls beauty and grace awaken
harmony. Lured by the bright sunshine, a stranger enters the door. He
sits and chats awhile with the inmates. His talk is pleasant, and as he
converses a cloud falls upon the house, the sunshine becomes darkened,
and the dwellers within the pretty cottage shiver as with cold. They heed
not the change, for the chat of their guest delights them. But when he
departs he leaves behind him a poison more baneful than the plague.

The inmates of the peaceful cottage look with gloomy eyes one upon the
other; they become dissatisfied and distracted among themselves, and
discord takes the place of harmony.

Secret influences are at work, poisons thrown out by the sphere of the
guest. A worse fate befalls them than befell the sailors who were invaded
by the insidious Plague.

I have seen in nature a fair face clouded suddenly--made gloomy and
unlovely--by the unspoken thought of another. Thought is contagious--some
varieties of it poisonous! I have seen the countenance of an innocent
child transform