Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 88, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 April 1910 — THE UPROOTING OF JIM [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE UPROOTING OF JIM

Jim Lesterton was rapidly settling iflown Into confirmed old bachelorhood, lit was a pity, but he had played the ®art of father and mother both to his (orphan brothers and sisters, six of •them, all told—and played it so well fthat from their very childhood they mad felt no sense of loss. To him they ▲ad turned In all their joys and sorprows, and he had never failed them, p’o outsiders his life had always seemjod a singularly noble and self-denying lone. To him his course of action had Weemed the only one which could be (followed. Now his "children” had stretched wings, and the quaint old house tn Danecn ester High street knew them Jio more. The three stalwart lads, Roy, Leslie and Maurice, were making their way rapidly in Canada. The girls had married wisely and happily. Jim had only recently parted with the youngest, Dorothy, his pet and Marling, and perhaps it had cost him pore to let her go than any of the ▲there. She was so full of life and Vivacity that he seemed to find in her Wight youth the youth which had passed him by. For he had been so intensely occupied with family cares from his boyhood that he often felt he had never been young at all The small income left -by his parents had (been miserably inadequate to supply the needs of a growing family, and Jim had "tolled terribly” to supplement it. He could have told, had he been so minded, sad stories of those early pears, when there were so many huniry mouths at home. It was so easy for him to live hard and work hard, he told himself. The Spartan-like simplicity of the regime, fortunately, did mot affect his constitution. He had mover been absent from his daily work by reason of illness. He could have told also of garments bought readymade, on account of cheapness, which his soul secretly loathed; of threadbare greatcoats worn through bitter winters, and of sundry other economies, cheerfully undergone for the sake of •‘his children,” as he called them; but these things were hidden in his heart. Jim Lesterton would have scorned himself had he spoken of them, and if he sometimes felt a little Mad and over-anxious during those long years in which the young ones were (rowing up, It was never suspected by them. He was an arch-dissembler in his way, this big-hearted, lovable Jim, but the dissembling was such as angels smile over, always for the cheer and well-being of others. God makes His heroes out of such •tuft, and, quite unconsciously, they are as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land to those around them. There are more of them amongst us than we know, for often in our own worldliness and self-seeking our eyes are holden. But “the years which the locusts had eaten" lay behind the man now. He had risen to a trusted and prosperous position, one which far exceeded his early ambitions, and was free from all anxiety concerning those dear to him. Yet he was possessed at times with a rather painful sense that bis present comfortable life was not actually as full and happy as the old tolling meager existence had been. His days seemed empty and gray, and he liras settling down to feel as he looked *—a dull old bachelor. The great crisis of our lives often come to us in a most homely and commonplace fashion. Jim Lesterton, pitting at his breakfast one morning, and enjoying a morning paper supported by a rather battered tea-cosy, which he would not have replaced because his pet sister had made it for him, suddenly caught sight of his own aame in the “Agony" column. “If James Lesterton, eldest son of the late Marcus Lesterton, of Felver>ea. Herefordshire, will communicate with the Messrs. Lawson, 6, Chancerylane, London, E. C., he will hear of something to his advantage.” Jim gave a violent start, thereby provoking the keen resentment of a magnificent Persian cat, which had perched herself on his shoulder with an eye to stray tit-bits. She sprang to the ground, and esconced herself In an easy chair opposite, keeping, however, a watchful eye on her master. “Gloriana, my dear, I beg your ladyBbip’s pardon," Jim said gravely, and with a slight inclination of his head la the Persian’s direction. “But when a fellow hears quite sudden like that a fellow has only got to show himself to hear something to that fellow’s advantage, why it's enough to make his manner lack Vere de Vere repose.” He read the advertisement through carefully once more. There was a possibility, of course, that some mistake been made In regard 'to nama.

that he, Jim Lesteron, was uot actually the man wanted, he told himself. But his early years had been spent in Felveflea, Derefordshire. It was not until the death of his parents that he had taken a house in Danechester, owing to its easy access from London. ”Domine ttiriffe not" said Jim Lesterton. It was a habit of his to murmur the simple old Latin prayer in the difficulties and perplexities of life. Then he set out for Chancery lane. The Messrs. Lawson were quite unlike typical men of law. They bore a comical resemblance to each other, and even their voices had the self-same tone. Jim had a fleeting remembrance of making such heads as theirs out of hollowed turnips in his youth. But he soon discovered that the round chubby faces were those of keen business men, and watched them with interest. They proceeded at once Xo the business in hand. "Mr. Lesterton,” said the one who appeared to be the elder of the two. "Can you call to memory a certain night in March, about seventeen years ago, when a man stopped you at the gate of your home, your father’s home It was then, saying he was starving and half-dead with cold?” Jim Lesterton’s memory was a good one, but he had to think hard before he could recall the night in question. He paused before he made any reply. “The name of the man was Francis Faithfull," said the brothers, this time simultaneously, and with rather odd effect. “Oh, yes, I remember. The name helped me to recall him. It struck me at the time as rather quaint,” said Jim. “You fed and clothed him,” said the elder brother, solemnly. “Any decent chap would have done the same,” said Jim hastily, disclaiming any glory in the matter. "He was down on his luck.” “He took a fancy to you, and vowed as he left your father’s house that, if

ever the wheel of fortune turned for him, he would stand your friend. Quite recently the wheel of fortune has turned for him. For years he has been disowned by his family, on account of an early imprudent marriage, and he fell on evil days. Last week, by the falling of an avalanche on Mont Blanc, two lives were lost, which stood between him and a baronetcy. Sir Robert Faithfull and his son Herbert now lip dead at Chamonix, awaiting burial in the English churchyard. “Francis Faithfull was found, by the merest chance, working as a caretakerin a motor works, and he went, at our instigation, to Switzerland. There was ho difficulty in proving his claim. Yesterday he wired to us to find you, and to send you on to Chamonix. He has never lost sight of forgotten his debt to you, and he is eager to repay it —at least in part." Jim Lesterton listened like one in a dream, and the two old men began to give him instructions as to his jojurney. The elder presently handed him a pink slip of paper. "You must not be offended, Mr. Lesterton. Doubtless you know your Bible, and a certain passage which refers to bread cast upon the waters.” "But I don’t need it,” began Jim. "My dear sir, you have not only yourself to consider on this journey. Our client wishes you to take his daughter to him. She does not at present know of the change in her father’s circumstances. You are to fetch her from this address,” giving Jim another slip of paper. "Get what she needs. Miss Faithfull is an heiress, and must want for nothing. You will look after her comfort generally.” ‘.’But I don’t know anything about girls,” protested Jim Lesterton. "I am a confirmed bachelor. All my friends would tell you so.” "What about your care of your sisters?” The two old lawyers looked archly at him, and shook their forefingers. It was too much for Jim’s sense of humor. He laughed as he had not laughed for years, and because he was a good and strong and altogether pleasant fellow, they laughed, too. Then Jim went on his mission, feeling curiously young. • • • • • • «... « May Faithfull was a dressmaker’s hand, and only a junior hand at that. She had recently been promoted, however, into making buttonholes, for which she had a peculiar aptitude. It is an occupation, however, which. If persisted in for several hours at a stretch, day after day, week in, week out, has a tendency to pall. To-day May was tired, dreadfully tired. Last night, she had dreamed of buttonholes. They had come staring and grinning at her, like grotesque, impish faces. And they were bad buttonholes, such as one may see in a child’s first attempt at needlework, so excruciatingly bad that ohe had sobbed in her dreams. Poo* Uttie May!

3he wa» noping as she worked this morning that they would not haunt her again, but she had her misgivings She bent her pretty head, with its coronal of wavy hair, over her work, with an increase of application. Suddenly a name rang through the workroom, pronounced in a clear and resonant voice by "Madame Etoile," whose homely English name was Betsy Starr! “Miss Faithfull is wanted." Madame’s voice was raspy. She had much work in hand, and resented the interruption. May rose and put her hand to her heart. It was beating quicker than its wont. Various remarks saluted her ears as she made her exit. When she entered the ’room where Jim Lesterton was waiting, her white little face was flushed; her eyes were shining like stars. Despite her patched black gown, she looked beautiful. Jim Lesterton hesitated for a moment. The girl had dignity and grace despite her youth. Then she lifted her face, and he saw how wistful and lone ly she looked. His heart went out to her. "Child,” he said, “your father wants you. I am to* take you to him. He wants you to share some unexpected good fortune.” She laid her hand in his, and quite suddenly the gray old world was a new place to Jim Lesterton. AH things had changed. He felt the joy, the exhilaration of a lad of 20 whilst the small work-worn hand lay in his own. It was a wonderful journey those two took together into the playground of the world, for Jim Lesterton was the kindest and most fatherly of protectors to the young creature put in his charge. When the two had their first glimpse of the “Monarch of Mountains;” when Mont Blanc raised his magnificent crest, crowned with eternal snow, be* fore their vision, she clung to his arm, and sobbed like a child. “It’s so lovely,” she said. “And it was always here, but we might never have seen ft, but for ” She paused abruptly; Jim swiftly divined her girlish thought of her unknown kinsfolk lying still and dead, victims of the mountain avalanche. He liked her for her tenderness, but managed to turn her thoughts in his own kindly way, by pointing out the manifold beauties of the panorama through which they were passing. When they reached Chamonix a tall and aristocratic-looking man came to greet them, his face lit with a smile of welcome. Jim Lesterton vainly strove to recall the starving wanderer as he looked at Sir Francis Faithfull, but Sir Francis held his hand in an iron grip and looked at him wth almost fatherly affection. "Welcome, my lad,” he said. “A -thousand thanks to you for bringing my little girl to me. It will be a threefold cord now, and a threefold cord is not easily broken.” It never was. That visit to Chamonix was a sowing that bore in the after years flowers of marvelous joy and happiness. It was, in truth, “The Uprooting of Jim,” who grew younger and happier every day, till bride and bridegroom seemed well matched to sympathizing onlookers at his wedding with May Faithfull.—London S. S. Times.

THE GRAY OLD WORLD WAS A NEW PLACE.