There Will Be No Dance To-Night

Death often throws its dark shadow across our gayest moments. I shall never forget one of the last dances with which I had anything to do. It was a charity ball for the benefit of an organization in which I was deeply interested, and though I was a theological student I was one of the managers of the ball.

On the afternoon of the day when the ball was to take place, my minister called upon me. I think he was disturbed that one of his members should be the manager in a charity ball. But as he talked with me, he did not come to the exact point of the ball. After a while a classmate, who was also one of the managers of the ball, came in and said, “Torrey, are you going to the ball to-night? “I think he did it partly to annoy me and partly to annoy the minister. I said,” Yes, of course, I am going to the ball to-night.” “No,” he said, “You are not going to the ball to-night.” I said, “I am going to the dance to-night.” He said, “You are not going to the dance to-night.” “Well,” I replied, “I guess I know and I am going to the dance to-night.” He said,” You are not going to the dance to-night, for there is to be no dance to-night. While we were making the last arrangements in the hall this afternoon, Mrs. — as she walked across the stage

fell dead, and there will be no dance to-night.”