Rensselaer Journal, Volume 11, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 November 1901 — The IDOL of the DAY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The IDOL of the DAY

“HE SHALL DIRECT THY PATH”

A Story.

"Trust in the Lord with all thy heart • * • He shall direct thy path.” Old Martha Brent, murmuring snatches of her day’s verses, little realized that a chal.enge to her faiih was close at hand. She was dusting some books on a shelf in her sitting ror.m, and just then she accidentally knocked one of them to the floor. The books had belonged to Martha’s 5-C ' .a

husband. She dusted them dally, but she never had opened them since his death, ten years before. Above the book shelf hung a bronze medal her husband had won for bravery In battle. Stooping to get the fallen book, Martha also picked up a paper that had tumbled out of it. It was a deed conferring a small piece of property below the town to one Frederick Willis. “Well, now, to think; I never knew James deeded that away!” thought Martha. She had Just laid the paper aside, when the door burst open and a little boy came flying in. "Granny!” he whispered, hurriedly, "you won’t let him take me from you will you?” “Why, Jacky!” said Martha. The hoy’s beautiful, flushed face waß upturned to hers full of eager entreaty. "Promise, you won’t. Granny!” "No. no, Jacky.” she said, patting his head; “you never shall leave Granny unwillingly.” , "Horning, Martha,” said a large,

rather determined-looking man, appearing in the doorway. He was Stephen Butts, a relative of the man who had married Martha’s only daughter, who, with her husband, now was dead. He presently stated the object of his visit. He had come to town from his ranch, wishing to take Jacky back with him. He and his wife would be glad to adopt the boy, he said. "No, Butts,” Martha replied, with a touch of asperity, "I shouldn’t feel a bit relieved to be rid of Jacky.” "And I must stay to take care of Granny,” chimed in the child, slipping his firm, pink hand into the wrinkled, brown one. Butts argued the matter awhile. He wanted the boy. Finally he went away, saying that he would not accept Martha’s decision as final. He would be in town again for Thanksgiving. * * * That afternoon Martha went to the office of her lawyer, Mr. Crell. Mr. Crell greeted her cordially. "I’m glad you called in today, Mrs. Brent,” he said, giving her a chair. “I wanted to see you.” “No good news!” he said. “I’ve heard from Mr. Ford, but I’m sorry to be obliged to tell you that he writes he does not see much use of continuing your pension ease. He cannot discover any one who knew Sergeant William Clay n James Brent” James Brent had retaken his true name when he got his discharge from the army three years before his death, and came to live in this western town, and now it seemed impossible to prove that he and Sergeant Clay were the same man. His widow mortgaged the home to lawyer Ford, the pension attorney, who seeing no chance of winning the case demanded payment of the mortgage. Crell told ot Ford’s demands. Martha started. She grew very white. She had a poor head for business matters, and she had not fully realized, when she mortgaged her property to meet the expenses of employing the Washington lawyer, that she must lose it if she did not get her pension. In the latter event the ten years’ arrears due her would easily have paid up the mortgage. “I hope we may be ab’e to save the place some way,” said Mr. Crell, observing her distress. "How about selling that land on the river?” "Oh, sir, I cannot sell that; it—”

Martha, half extending the deed from under her shawl, drew it sharply back Into hiding. A fierce flood of terror set every nerve in her old body trembling. “What did you say, sir?” she asked, weakly. Mr. Crell explained that it would be wise to sell the land. “I’m sure your husband would approve,” he said. Martha rose from her chair abruptly. “Yes, I believe James would want me to sell it,” she declared; “he’d want anything rather than Jacky and I’d be without a home!” She went away quickly. Martha did not work well that afternoon. Here mind was distracted. She kept slipping her hand Into her pocket to feel the deed. It’s possession confused her actions. Unable to stand the strain any longer she started to Crell’s office to tell the story. But on the way she met Jacky returning from school. “Come, you’re tired. Let’s hurry home,” said Jacky. “Why, that’s not the way home. Granny! You’re starting uptown. See, it’s well I came to fetch you. Take my shoulder; I’m pretty big now.” Martha’s determination wilted weakly away. She went home with her boy. It was not until they were seated at supper that her sense of right put in a claim again. “I’ve taken the second wrong step, and I've got to stop here!” She pulled herself up. She knew that if the worst came to the worst she might go to the poorhouse, and tried to pursuade him to go to Butts’. Jacky’s face clouded; he flung himself back in his chair. • “Now, Granny,” he cried, with tears, “you’re talking as though you wanted me to go and you said you didn’t; you promised that I might always stay with you.” Martha’s face fell from the wheedling expression it had assumed. She gave up the effort to persuade thechild to wish to leave her as beyond her strength. She rose abruptly after a few minutes and walked to the stove. She lifted a lid and snatched the deed from her pocket. “Why, what are you doing now?” Jacky asked, surprised at the nervous Intensity of her actions.

Martha stopped herself shortly at his question. "I was going to burn this paper, but maybe I’d better not,” she muttered. She sat down again, quite spent from the day’s perplexities. She did not coherently plan what sne should do. She let matters drift for the next few days. Then one morning Mr. Crell came to her house with a notary and a deed all drawn up for her to sign. He gave her the deed to sign. She trembled and before she could write her name the pen fell to the floor. She would not pick it up. “1 won’t sell the land,” she said. "Let this place go if it Will, and Jacky and I are going to live on the shack on the river land.” Nothing the perplexed lawyer could say would alter this decision, and at last he took the notary away. However, sincerely desirous of saving the old woman from the consequences of what seemed a strange vagary, Mr. Crell came to her another day, saying that he had arranged by telegraph to postpone the time of paying the mortgage. But Martha Stubbornly refused to alter her plans. She put a little furniture into the two-roomed log shack on the river property, and moved there with Jacky. “There won’t be any crime In just borrowing the land while I live,” she told herself. One evening, when they had been in the shack some weeks, as he sat studying the depressed lines that had come into her face, an idea occurred to Jacky. “Granny,” he broke out, “the reason we’re not very cheerful here is Just because we haven’t enough honor* ableness.” Then, as Martha caught her breath, she glanced at him sharply. “We ought to have grandfather’s medal hanging up as it was at the cottage,” he explained. “You see, Granny, we’re always so proud and happy when we look at it and remember what a brave soldier he was. It makes us wish to be all honorable and right ourselves. Why Granny!” Martha had suddenly dropped her face in her hands, and was swaying her poor old body to and fro. “Jacky! Jacky!” she cried out, “Go get the medal, quickly!” He flew for it, quite distracted at the remarkable effect of his words. He had merely repeated things she had often said to him. Martha had controlled her agitation when he came back to her side after a few minutes. She was sitting up very straight and calm, and there was a brightness in her eyes, as if the spirit behind them was working strongly. . Her iqouth had dropped from the set look it had recently worn. It trembled slightly. “Jacky,” she said, “stand before me, my man. Jacky, you say that thinking of grandfather ought to make- us brave and honorable. Do you mean U?” “Oh, yes. Granny.” “And if he was ready to do his duty in his way, we must do ours in our way as bravely?” "Ye-es, Granny." “Then, Jacky, we shall. I’ll do mine and you’ll do yours, little lad, even though it’s the hardest trial that could come for us to be parted.” * * • The next morning Martha carried the deed to Mr. Crell and told him the story of how she had found It and of her resolve to restore the land to Willis. “Oh, Mrs. Brent!” he exclaimed when he was through reading it, springing up to grasp her hand. “How glad we are you brought me this at last! You say you were not able to read all of it? Well, Frederick Willis

was a soldier serving with your husband, and the land is left him in gratitude for once saving Brent’s life. It is mentioned here that Brent served under the assumed name of Clay. Now all to do is to find Willis, and through him prove Brent’s Identity, and we shall get your pension!" * • • Thanksgiving Hay, when Stephen Butts drove in from his ranch, Martha was back in her cottage. He looked at her pleasantly as she opened the door for him. “I haven’t come to urge you to let its have the boy, Martha,” he said kindly. "Jenny said I shouldn’t, since you’re so set by each other.” He had his wagon loaded with pumpkins and butter and eggs and otner good things produced on his ranch. He stored them away in Martha’s chair. ‘"He shall direct thy paths,” she murmured, with new fervor.

ACCIDENTALLY KNOCKED ONE TO THE FLOOR.

"HOW GLAD WE ARE.”