Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 6, Number 33, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 February 1876 — Page 6

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THE MAIL

•fl A PAPER FOR THK PEOPLE.

MAX'S WORK ASD WOMAN'S WORK.

J«Y 1.11.L1KK. 1IAKR.

Man'* work is from nun to mm

Woman's

work i* never tlonc. —[Old Proverb.

Martin Kyser, coming home from his work at eve, ,, •Growled and grumbled in away you would scarce believe Thought hi* wiio had easy times—said 'twas known that he iVmkl 4n one day do as much a»sl\c'd dp three."

Ausvoml quick the busy wife: Come, you'll allow, To-morrow you'll do my work, I'll go drive the plow lint you must milk the dairy cow, ami you mnst butt«*r make, And there'.* a trifle, twi, of bread mm pies bake.

astray

And Tom'll be to watch, or he'll gel lo#t, or worse And Belle won't

ll:»y

And as you

all day—shea now

and then to nurM-

And don't forget the hired men— dinner hour I* twelve— -n want lot* of In-arty food when they dig and delve.

J.IM

inu.ml out, getting toward

mid-day,

Mind you waioli the turkej'-hen, or shell

lay

And le »ure the stove is full and the irons hot. For the clothe* I'vo washed to-day must xot be forgot.

"Then for half an hour or so, ere It's time for tea, There's your voiUiug-suit to patch—do it tidily Or no to the barny ml, ami *ee the poultry

fed,

Alter which wash TV«ni and Belle and put them Into bed,

"Then you'll dress yourself, you know, as I always do, And have all as nice for me as have had for you (Jook mo something tasty—say bird on toast— Or nome spicy rissole from the dinners roasL

As I shall bOK« tired. of course you'll wait on me— (lot my wrapper, got my slippers, briny a

You'fi wash up, loek the lioaso, laugh at baby:'H efl jwrs i.hall rest upon the lounge with the evening paiHjris." Well, next morning Martin's wifu went to drive the plow Martin, laughing, took the rail, tried to milk the cow, Hut Black Cherry tossed her head, looked around with worn. .Towed poor Martin from the byre with her crumpled horn.

Bruised and bleeding, without milk, lie went sadly in, Dirty dlshex, crying aby—where should he begin? Tninmy,. too» bad wandered on, perhaps liit«vthe lake, Aud the butter, bread and pies all were yet to nink '.

Oat the boy in somu precarious position, Clave him what men call a "wholesome admonition Pound the butler would not come, thongst he'd try and bake. Tut the bread In far '.on soon, dinner on too lata.

When the men came home at noon ho was half dcuuint, Wncooked dinner, easel table, hungry discontent And the thought of afternoon rnikde him

Hick

ot lite

Uo would give—what would he not? just to see hl» wife.

Aud the wife lia woman'h tact so JusLafternown tUie went homeward, knowing well sho was none too soon Dropped upon tho weary house in a glad surprise I.evcr ii.nl she

HE«med BO

band's cj

fair in her hus

Kor the said no hitter won!, went to work instead Ked the tiabies, cleaned the house, based somo decant bread II.'anl him patiently abuse homo and ami cow, While she soothingly allowed "it wm hir to plow." Th.inn he openly confessed all hts past mistake, W^nder'd how K1I did so much all for love 8 sweet sake! Kiss'd her fondly, as he said: WJfle, now

I see

Vmi do more hi one day than I couid do in three."

Peter, the Parson.

Iu November, 18M), a little mining settlement stood forlornly on tho sh«re of Lnko Superior. A log dock ran out into jwfche dark water a roughly built furqaoe fcfchr^w a gl*ro against tho dark »ky seraral stamping mills kept op tholr monotonous tramping day and night and ovil mlndel saloons b««et the stepson all sidpn. Hack Into the pine forest ran the white sand road leading to the mine, -^agd on the right were clustorcnl the which were scarcely better than panties, although adorned withaidling ,,ji.m hos and Khnm-windowed fronts.

XVlnter begins early in these high latittiflwu Navigation was still open, tor a auov with patched sails was coming aiowlv up the bay, but the air was eold, and the light snow of the preceding niflht clung unmelted on the north side ioQhP trees. The pine forest had been irnod away to make rwra for the vill#ae blackened stumps rose everywhere in the woody street's and, on tbe outslcirts of tho clearing, grew into tall •Keletona, bleached white without, but :ack and charred within—a desolate "framing tor a deflate picture. Kvenrthing was bare, jagged and UBflmshel each poor house snowed hasty make MfeUts—no doors latched, no windews fitted. Piga were the principal pedestrians. At four o'clock this cold November afternoon, tke saloons, with their n« flree and red curtains, were by far moet oheerfal «pota in tbe landscape, «nd their ruddy Invitations to perdition jwnre not counterbalanced by a single tnk K«ing gleam, until the Reverend ^Ilorman I*eters prepared his chapel for -\flspera.

Herman Warrlner Peters was a slen-

''A»r little ma#, whose blue eyes, Mr Lair and unbearded ftK* misled the observer into UH» idea of extreme youth.

There was a boyishness in his air. or, rather, lack of air, and a nervous timidity In his manner, which stamped him |n a person of no importance »ne of those men who, not of sufficient oonse•uence to be disliked, are simply ignored by a well bred world, which pardons anything rather than inrignfficance.

And if ignored bv a well bred world, what by an ill bred? Bocietv at Algonquin was wore® than ill bred, hiasmnch aa It had nerer been bred at all. Ul» all mining settlements, it esteemed phyaioai strength the highest good, and nest to that an widaunted demeanor and

msu«r anumiivu Herman Wairiner P^srs, aqd derived much onjoymont from calling him "Pefcer," pretending to think it was his real MOM, and solemnly persisting in the

Ln sjplt9 of all the palnsUking

:n/

corrections ot the unsuspecting little man. Tbe Reverend Herman wrapped him self in his thin old cloak and twisted a oomforter around his little throat, as the dock warned him of the hour. He was not leaving much oomfort behind him tbe room was dreary and bare, without earpet, lire, or easy chair. A cot-bed, which sagged hopelessly, a washbowl set on a dry goods box, flanked by a piece ot bar soap and a crash towel, a few pegs on the cracked Wall, one wooden chair and his own little trunk completed the furniture. The Reverend Horman boarded with Mrs Malone, and ate her streaked biscu'-t and fried steak without complaint. Tho woman could rise to veast and a gridiron when the surveyors visited Algonquin, or when the directors of the iron company came up in the summer but thestreaked biscuit and fried steak were "good enough for the little parson, bless him

There were some things in the room, however, other than furniture, namely, a shelf full of religious books, a large and appalling picture of the crucifixion,

and a

cross six feet in height, roughly made of pine Banlings, and tixed to the floor in a wooden block. There was also a small colored picture with the words "Hanta Margarita" inscribed beneath. The picture staod on a bracket fashioned of shingles, and below it hung a poor little vase filled with the last colored leaves.

Ye onlv want the Howly argin now to bo all right, yer rivereuce," said Mrs. Malone, who was, in name at least, a Roman Catholic.

All honor and affection are, no doubt, due to the Holy Mary," answered tho Rcvereud Herman, nervously '•but the Anglican church does not—at present—allow her claim to—to adoration." And he sighed.

Why don't yer jest come right out now and be a rale Catholic," said Mrs. Malone, with a touch of sympathy.

You're next door to it, and it's aisy to see yer aint happy in yer mind. If yer was a rale praste, now, with the coat aud all, 'stead of being a make-believe, the bovs 'ud repect yer more, and wouldn't notico yer soi/o so much. Or yer might go back to the cities (for I don't deny they do like a big list up here,) and loikely euough yer could find aisy work there that 'ud suit yer."

441like

hard work, Mrs. Malone," said

the little parson.

But you're not lit for it, sir. You 11 niver get on here if yer stay till judgment day. Why, yer ain't got ten poopie, all told, belongin' toyer chapel, and you're here a year already!"

The Reverend Herman sighed again, but made no answer. He sighed now n.-s he left his eold room and stepped out into the cold street. The wind blew us he made his way along between the stumps,

carefully

going round the pigs,

who had selected the best places for their siestas. He held down his comforter with one bare band the other clutched the end of a row of books, which filled his thin arm from the shoulder down. Ho limped as he walked. His ankle had been cruelly injured some months previously tho wound had healed, but he was leit permanently and awkwardly lame. At the time, the dastardly injury had roused a deep bitterness in the parson's heart, for grace and activity had been his one poor little bodily gift, his one small pride. The activity had returned, not the grace. But ho had learned to limp bravely along, and tbe bitterness had passed away.

Lights shone comfortably from the Pine Cone saloon as he passed.

Hallo! Here's Peter the parson," sang out a miner standing at tne door and forth streamed all the loungers to look at him.

Say, Peter, come in and have a drop to warm yer," said ORO.

Look at his poor little ribs, will yer?" said another, as his cloak blew out like a sail.

Let him alone! He's going to have his preaching all to himself, as usual," said a third. "Them books is all the congregation lie can get, poor little chap!"

Tho parson's sensitive ear* heard every word. Ho quickened his steps, and, with his usual nervous awkward ness, stumbled and fell, dropping all the books, amid the jeering applause of the bystanders. Silently he rose and- begun collecting his load, the wind every now and then blowing his cloak over bis head as he stooped, and his difilculties increased by the occasional gift of a potato full in the breast, and a flood of witty commentaries from the laughing group at the saloon door. As ho picked up the last volume and turned nwav, a missile, deftly aimed, took ofT his hat, and sent it over a fence into a neighboring field. The parson hesitated, but as small boy had already given chase, not to bring it back, but to send it further away, no abandoned the hat,—his only one,—and walked on among the slumps bareheaded,life thin hair blown about by ihe raw windi and his blue eyes reddened with eold an&*frrtef. W

Tho Episcopal church of St. John atid St. James was a rough little building, with recess chaftcel, ill-set Gothic windsws, and a half-finished tower. It owed its existence to tbe seal of a director's wife, who herself embroidered it* altar cloth and book marks, and sent thither the artificial flowers and candles which shs dared not suggest at home the poor Indians, at least, should not be deprived of thorn! The director's wife died, but left by will a pittance of two hundred dollars per annum towards the rector's salary. In her fancy she "aw igonquln, a thriving town, whose inhi tan Is believed in the Anglican succession, and sent tbelrehlldren to Sunday school. In realltv, Algonouin remained a lawless mining settlement, whose Inhabitants believed in nothing, and whqse children hardly knew what Sunday meant unless it was more whisky than usual. The two hundred dollars and the chapel, however, remained fixed facts, and the eastern directors, therefore, ordered a picturesque church to be delineated on their circulars, and themselves constituted a nonresident v»try. One or two young missionaries had already tried tbe field, failed, and gone away, but the present incumbent, who had equally tried and equally failed, remained.

On this occasion he unlocked the door and entered the little sanctuary. It was oold and dark, but he made no fire, for there was neither stove nor hearth. Lighting two candle*—one tor the congregation and one for himself—he distributed the books among the benches ami the chancel, and dusted carefully tbe little altar, with its faded embroideries and flowers. Then he retired tot# tbe abed which served as a vestry-room, and in a few minute* issued forth, clad in his robes of oflSUsOi and knelt at the chancel rail. There *fas no bell to *um« mon the congregation, and no congregation to summon hot still he begun in Mis QLMU-voice, "Dearly below*! brethren," and continued on unwavering through tbe confowtkra,

i/ v'

surplice,

The

Still there

departod and

TERRE TT A TTTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

thanks unto the Lord, and to sing I scourge.

curried

ice

of St. John

and

patiently waited, pacing to and previous evening, he started out wltn fro in the cold. Patiently waited and his load of prayer books, his face lookfor what? For tho going away of tbe ing haggard and blue in tho cold mornonly friend ho had in Algonquin. Ing light. Again he entered the chapel.

congregation lingered its swawl and having arranged the books and mvlst be ^fastened Indeed, it must be dusted the altar, ha attired himself in entirely refolded. Its hat must be retled, his robes and began the service at half and tho ribbons carefully smoothed, past six precisely.

was no sound from the vestry ihe sun even unto the going down of room. It collected all the prayer books, the same," he read, and In truth tho sun and piled tnem near tho candle, making was just rising. As the evening prayer a separate journey for each little vol- was "vespers," so this wiw •matins in ume Still no one. A! last, with lln- the parson's mind. He had his vestgerlng step and backward glance, slowly merits" too, of varibus ritualistic styles,

oold seemed to blur tho book, and he breakfast.

read

en help me!" bethought. "But I can- day." not afford a tire at this season, and, in-

He went down towards the dock where stood the one store of Algonquin —stealing along in the darkness to hide his uncovered condition. Buying a hat, the poorest one there, from the Jew proprietor he lingered a moment near the stove to warm his chilled hands. Mr. Marx, rendered good natured by the bold cheat he had perpetrated, affably began a conversation.

Sorry to see yer still limp bad. But it aint so hard as it would be if yer was a larger man. Yer see there aint much of yer to limp that's one comfort. Hope business is good at yer chapel, and that Mrs. Malone gives yer enough to«-at yer don't look like it, though. The winter has sot in early, and times is hard." And did the parson know that "Brother Saul bad eomc in from the mine, and is a holding forth in the schoolhouse t!-,is v*ry minit?"

No the parson did not know it. But lie put on his new bat. whose moth holes had been skillfully blackened over with ink, and turned towards the door.

It's noth'ng to me, of course," continued Mr. Marx, with a liberal wave of his dirty band "ail your religions are alike to me, I'm free to say. But I wonder yer and Saul don't work together, parson. Yer might do a heap of good if yer was to pull at the same oar, now."

The words echoed in the parson's ears as he walked down to tbe beach, the onlv promenade in Algonquin free from stumps.

Could he do a "heap of good,"

by workinir with that ignorant, coarse, roaring brother, whose blatant pride, dirl.y shirt, and irreverent familiarity with all things saercd were alike distasteful, nav, horrible to his sensitive mind. Powdering he paced the narrow strip of sand under the low bluff but all his efforts did not suffice to quicken or warm his chilled blood. Ne\ertheless he expanded his sunken chest and drew in long breaths of the cold night air, and beat his little, hands vigorously together, nnd ran to and fro.

never »«.»««.

pointed

swinging

ing

tbt

gown and

absolution,

and the psalm*, leaving a silenoe to the oorresponing response, and devootly beginning the first lesson. Iu the midst 6/^70lkhaniah" there was a slight noise at the dnpr mid a step sounded over tbe rough floor. The nolltiry reader did not raise his eves, and. the lesson over, he bravelv lined up his mild tenor in in the chant, "It is a good thing to give

cnorus

warmth. Th« parson brushed the toksn irf wMkneas uatilv awiy, atKx rislng, threw himself at tho foot of the lame wooden crnm with his arm* clasping its

its disappointed and washed them himself, ironing them

faco homeward. Then Peter the parson out afterwards with fyar and difficulty issued forth lifted the careful pile of in Mrs. Malono's disorderly kitchen, books with tender hand, and extin- poor little man! No hand turned the guishing the lights, wont out barehead- latch, no step came across the floor this ed into the darkness. The vesper serv-

morning

found himself gazinc at the words «'How peaked yer do look, bir, ex without taking in their *ense. Then he claimed ruddy Mrs. Malone, as she began to

and down, and carrying the candle to

for

deed, it ought not to lie necessary. This plied tho little parson with dignity, delicacy must be subdued I wili go out A young man with the figure of an and walk." Putting on his cloak and athlete sat at tbe lower end of the table, •comforter (O deceitful naire!l he re- tearing the tough steak voraciously with membered that lie had no hat. Would bis strong teeth, chewing autubly, and his slender store of money allow a new drinking with a gulping noise. He ono? Unlocking his trunk, ho drew

•^l»i wpr

The next morning

praises unto Thy name, O Most High- nsual in tbe little room save that the cat." A girl's voice took up tbe air the

picture

mild tenor dropped into its own part, twain, and the bracket and vi S3 shatterand the two continued the service in a ed to fragments on the floor below. duet, spoken snd sung, to its close. At dawn the parson rftso, and after a Then the minister retired, with his can- conscientious bath in tbe tub or icy die, to tho shed, and, hanging up his Water brought in by bis own hands the

"From

the rising of

the parson had the service all

St. James was over, to himself, and, as it was Friday, he

After a hot, unwholesome supper the went through tbe Litany, omitting notuminister returned to his room and tried ing, and closing with a hymn. I*hen, to read but tho candle flickered, the

gathering

up his books ho went homo to

aloud, slowly walking up handed him a cup of muddy conee.

44What,

light the page but through all the got notWn'else. "Well, if yer won t— learned sentences there still crept to the but there's nothin' but the biscuit then, surfaco tho miserable consciousness of Why, oven Lather O'Brien himself bodily cold. "And mental, too, Heav- meat

no steak? I)o. now for I ain

the sickly, Friday or no Fn-

441am

not sickly, Mrs. Malone, re-

paused as

out a thin purse hidden away among ed him with wonder, not unmixed with his few carefully folded clothes—the contempt. poor trunk was but half full—and count- You amt sickly, repeated, edits contents. The suui was pitifully

"Well,

small, and it must yet last many weeks, who is, that's all. But a hat was necessar\\ whereas a tire was a mere luxury. "I must harden myself." thought the little parson sternly", as he caught himself shuddering with tho cold "This evil tendency to self-indulgence must and shall be crushed.

Now, you jest eat your breakfast Steve, and let the parson alone," interposed Mrs. Malone. "Sorry to see that little picture all tore, sir," she continued, turning the conversation in her blunderdering good nature. "It was a moighty pretty picture, and looked uncommonly like Rosie Ray."

It was a copy of an Italian painting, Mrs. Malone," the parson hastened to replv "Santa Margarita."

Oh, I dare say but it looken iver so much like Rosie for all that." A deep flush had crossed th^ parson's pale face. The athlete saw it, and muttored to himself angrily, casting surly side long glances up the table, and breatliinc hard the previous evening he had happened to pass tho chapel of St. John and St. James as its congregation of one was going in tbe door.

After two hours spent in study, the parson went out to visit the poor and sick of the parish all were poor, and one was sick, the child of an English woman, a miner's wife. The mother, with a memory of hsr English training, dusted a chair for the minister, and dropped a courtesy, as be seated himself by the little bed but she seemed embarrassed, and talked volubly of anything and everything save tho child. The parson listened to the unbroken stream of words while be stroked the boy's soft cheek, ai»d held tho wasted little hand in bis. At length he took a small bottle from bis pocket, and looked around for a spoon it was a pure and delicate cordial which ho had often given to the sick child to sustain its waning strength.

Oh, if you please, sir—indeed, I don't feel sure that it does Harry any eood. Thank you for offering-it so free—but— but, if you'd just as lieve—I—I'd rather not. sir, if you please, sir."

The parson looked up in astonishment: the costly cordial bad robbed him of manv a fire.

44Aha!"

he said to himself, "this is glorious exercise." And then ho went home, colder than ever it was his way thus to make a reality -f what ought to be.

Passing through ono of the so-called streets, he saw a ruddy glow in front of the schoolhouse it was a pine knot fire whose flaring summons had not been nuheeded. The parson stopped a moment and warmed himself, glancing meanwhile furtively within where Brother Saul was holding forth in clarion tones to a crowded congregation his word reached tbe listeners ear, and verified the old proverb. "There's brimstone and a flery furnace for them as doubts the truth, I tell you. Prayin' out of a book—and flowers—and candles —and nightgownds 'stead of decent coats—for it's nightgownds they look liko through they may call them surpluses," (applause from the miners.)— "won't do no good. Sech nonsense will never save souls. You've jest got to fall

Why don't you tell tho minister the truth," called out a voice from the inner room, the harsh voice of the husband.

44Why

I didn't mean to have Saul—I didn't indeed, sir," said the mother, putting her apron to her eyes. "But Harry he was so bad last night, and the neighbors sort o' persuaded me into it. Brother Saul does pray so powerftil strong, sir, that it seems as though it does do some good in some way and

fc®'8

ver?

down on your knees and pray hard— there's no denying that. Still I didn't hnrd—with groaning and roaring of the mean it, sir and I hope you 11 forgive spirit—until you're as weak as a rag. me." Nothing else will do nothing—noth- There Is nothing to forgive, replied jn ».

the parson gem ly and, leaving his ac-

The parson hurried away, shrinking customed coin on the table, he went (though unseen) from the rough finger iaway.

at him. Before he was out of Wandering at random through the hearing, a hymn sounded forth on the

pine forest,

night breeae—one of those nondescript depression at his heart, hecamesuddensonssthat belong to the border, a favor- ly upon a large bull dog the creature, ite with tbe Algonquin miners because one of the ugliest of Its kind, eyed him

#'fT

all was as

of Santa Margarita wa* torn in

Her vision was Imperfect, and she took tho small cowering figure tor a boy.

The minister went horn. After dinner, which he did not eat, as the greasy dlsbes offended his palate, he shut himself up In hia room to prepare his sermon for tbe coming Sunday. It made no difference whether there would be any one to hear it or not, the sermon was always carefully delivered, albeit short, according to the ritualistic usage, which esteems the service all, tbe sermon nothing. His thome on this occasion was The General Councils of the Church, and tho sermon, an admirable production of its kind, would have been esteemed, no doubt, In English Oxford, or in the General Theological Seminary of New York city, lie wrote earnestly and ardently, deriving a keen enjoyment from" tho work the mechanical part also was exquisitely finished, the clear sentences standing out like the work of asculptor. Then came vespers and the congregation this time was composed of two, or, rather, three persons the girl, the owner of tho dog, and the dog himself. The man entered during service with a noisy step, managing to throw over a bench, coughing, humming nnd talking to his dog half of the congregation was evidently determined upon mischief. But tho other half rose with the air of a little queen, crossed the interveningspace with an open prayerbook, gave it to the man, and, seating herself near by, fairly awed liim into good behavior. Rose Ray was beautiful and the lion lay at her feet. As for the dog, with a wave of the hand she ordered him out, and the beast humbly withdrew. It was noticeable that the parson's voice gained strength as the dog aisappearcd.

441aint

the parson sp^ke, and regard-

44what

don't you say richt out that

Brother Saul was here last night, and prayed over the child, and gave it some of his swn medicine, and telled you not tA touch tho parson's stuff bs said it was pizen, he did."

The parson rose, cut to the heart. He had shared his few dimes with this wo man, and had hoped much from her on account of her early church training. On Sunday she had been one of tho few who came to tho chape', nnd when, durfng tho summer, sho was smitten with fever, he bad read over her the praver* from "the Visitation of tho Sick he had baptized this child now fading away, and had loved the little fellow tenderly, taking pleasure in fashionine toys'for his baby hands, and saving for him the few cakes of Mrs. Malone's table.

goini? to stand by and see it,

Rosie," said the man, as, tbe service over, he followed tbe girl into the street. "That puny little chap!"

Ho cares nothing for me," answered the girl quickly.

if you aint, then Id like to know

Ho shan't have a chance to care, if I know myself. You're free to say

to me, Rosie, but you aint free to say 'yes' to him. A regular coward That's what he is. Why, he ran away1from my dog this very afternoon—ran like he was scared to death!"

You set the dog on him, Steve." Well, what if I did He needn't have run any other man w-ould have sent the beast flying."

Now, Steve, do promise me that you won't tease him any more," said the girl, laying her hand upon the man's arm as he walked by her side. His face softened.

If he had any spirit he'd be ashamed to have a girl beggin' for him not to be teased. But never mind that I'll let him alone fast enough, Rosie, if you will too."

If I will," repeated the girl, drawing back, as he drew closer to her side

can you mean?"

Oh, come now! You know very well you're always after him—a-goin' to his chapel where no one else goes hardly— a listenin'to his preachin'—and a-havin' your picture hung up in his room."

It was a random shaft, sent carelessly more to finish the sentence with a strong point than from ally real belief in the athlete's mind. ,7 "What!"

Leastways so Mrs. Malone sa'd. I took breakfast there this morning." The girl was thrown off her guard, her whole face flushed with joy, she could not for the moment hide her agitation. "My picture!" she murmured, and clasped her bands. The light from the pine-cone crossed her face, and revealed the whole secret Steven Lone saw it, and fell into a ragr. After all, then, she did love the puny parson

Let him look out for himself, that's all," be muttered with a fierce gesture, as he turned towards .the saloon door, (lie felt a* sudden thirst for vengeance, and for whisky.)

comfortable talker, too,

t1iiM

unable to overcome the dull

wherein they roar- quietly, with a slow wrinkling of the

ed out their wish to "die a shouting in sullen upper Hpcompany with all the kings and proph- The parson visibly trembled. ets of Israel, each one fraternally men-

tioned by name. and tbe athlete of the breakfast table Reaching his room, the parson hung showed himself. up his cloak and hat, and sat down qui- Call off your dog, please, Mr. Long.' etly with folded hands. Clad In drew- He

'Frald, are ye called out a voice,

alnt

doin' nothin panwn. But

slippers, In an easy chair, you're at liberty to kick him, if you

before a bright fire, a reverie, thus, is like." said the man, laughing as Ihe dog the natural ending for a young man's snnffed stealthily around the parson day. Bat here the chair was hard and gaiters. The parson shifted hk» pomtion straightbacked, there was no fire, and the dog followed. He stepped aside so the oandle burned with a feeble, blue did the dog. He turned and walked flame: the small figurp in its limp black away with a determined effort at selfclothes, with its little gaitered feet press- control the dog went closely behind, ed close together on tne cold floor as if brushing his ankles with his ugly motfor warmth, its clasped hands, its pale ale. He hurried, so did tbe dog. At free and blue eyes fixed on the blank last, overcome with the nervous physical expanse of the plastered wall, irss pa- timidity which belonged to his oonatltnthetlc in its patient discomfort. Altera tkn,be broke '"J?* while a tear toll on the clasped hands for life, hearing the dog close behind and and startled their coldftCM with its gaining with every step. Thejeering laugh of

Jaugh "of the athlete followed him through the pine tree aisles, but he heeded it not, and when at last he spied a 16g house on one side be took refuge

base. In silence for many moments be within like a hunted bare, breathless lay thus prostrate then, extinguishing and trembling. An old woman "rooking the candle, he sought his poor couch, a pipe

was

But later in the tttgbt, when all Al/jon- tbe matter? she said. Oh, the dog?** quin slept, a crash of something foiling And, taking a stick of wood, she drove was beard in the dark room followed by tbe animal from the door, and sent him the sound of a scourge mercilessly used, fleeing back to his master. The parson and mtirmured IjaUn prayers, the oli sat down by the hearth to recover his cries of penitence that rose during nljrbt composure.

vigils from tbe monasteries of ibe Mid- "Why, you're most frightened to die Ages. And why not F.ngllahwords? death, aint vert" said the old woman, Waa there not something of affectation as she brushed against him to make up In tbe use of these medieval phrases? tbe fire. "You're all of a tremble. I Maybe so but at least there was nothing wouldn't stray so tor away from home affected in tbe stripes made by tbe if I was you, child."

Us only occuiwint. What

I'll be even with

him, and I won't be long about it, neither. You'll

never

have the little

parson alive, Rose Ray! He'll be found missiu' some fine mornin', and nobody will be to blame but you either." He disapi**ared, and the girl stood watching the spot where his dark, angry faco had been. After a time she went slowly homeward, troubled at heart there was neither law nor order at Algonquin. and not without good cause did she fear.

The next morning, as the parson was coming from his solitary matin.service through thick falling snow, this girl mot him, slipped a note into his band, and disappeared like a vision. The parson went homeward, carrying the folded paper under his cloak pressed close to his heart "I am only keeping it dry," he mui'mured to himself. This was the note

Respected Sir: I must see you. you are in danger. Please come to the Grotter this afternoon at. three and I remain yours respectful,

Ross

RAY."

The Reverend Herman Warriner Peters read these words over and over then he went to breakfast, but ate nothing, and, coming bee'* to his room.be remained the wuole morning motionless in his chair. At first the red flamed in his cheek, but gradually it faded, and gave place to a pinched pallor he bowhis head upon his bands, communed with his own heart, and was still. As tbe dinner bell rang be knelt down on the cold hearth, made a little funeral pvreof the note torn into fragments, watched it slowly consume, and than, carefully collecting the ashes, he laid tbem at the base the large cross, vAt two o'clock be set ont for the Grot tot. a cave two miles from the village along tbe shore, used by tbe fishermen as a camp dvring tbe summer. The snow had continued falling, and now lay deep on the even ground the pines were loaded with it, and everything was white save the waters of the bay, heaving sullenly, dark and leaden, aatbongh they knew the icy fetters were nearly ready tor them. Tbe parson walked rapidly along In his awkward, halting gait overshoes be bad none, and hia cloak was but a sorry substitute tor the blankets and skins worn by the mtnem. But he did not feel cold when he opened tbe door of the littte cabin which he had built out in front of the eave, and found himself face to face with the beautiful girl who had summoned him there. She had lighted a fire of pine knots on tbe hearth, and set tbe firsberman's rough furniture in order she had cushioned a chair-back with bersbawl and heated a flat stone tor afoot wanner. ««Take this seat air," she said, lertling him thither.

The parson sank Into tbe cbair and plaoed his old, soaked gaiters on the warm stone but he said not one wort.

441

thought perhaps youd be tired after your long walk, sir continued the gU-L "and so I took the liberty of

bringing

in short every power she posaed to charm tbe silent guest. The table waa npini the viands arranged, tho coffee pooxra |v into the cup but still t^e parson ifoto not, and his blue eyes were almost stern as lie glanced at the tempting array. He touched nothing.

441thought

yon would have liked it

all," said the girl at last, when then she saw her little offerings despised. "I" brought them all out myself—and I*vas so glad thinking you'd'like them—and ,i now—" her voico broke down, and the ters flowed from her prelty, soft eyes. A great tenderness camc over tbe parson's face.

Do not weep," he said quickly. "See, I am eating. See, I am enjoying every-1, thing. It is all good, nay, delicious."! And in his haste be partook of each§ dish and lifted the coffeo cup to his lips.* The girl's face grew joyous again, audi tbe parson struggled oravely against his own enjoymont in truth, what with the1 warm fire, the easy chair, the delicate^ feed, the fragrant cdflee, and tbe eager,| beautiful face before him, asense of hap-ih pi ness came over him in long surges, and,? for the moment his soul drifted with the"warm tide.

You do like it, don't j'ou said tbef girl with delight, as he slowly drank? the flagrant coffee, his starved lips ling-& erintt over the delicious brown droraj" Something in her voico jarred on tnej|. strained nerves and roused them to ac-*, tion again.

Yes, I do like it—only too well," he£ answered, but the ne of his voice bad! altered. He pushed back his hair, rose| and began pacing to and fro in the shadow beyond the glow of the fire.

44Thou

4no'

glutton body!" ho mnrmnred.[\

"But thou shalt go empty for this." Then, after a pause, he said iu a quiet, even tone.

You had something to tell,

me, Miss Ray." The girl's face had alterod but rallying, she told her story earnestly—of Steven Long, his fierce temper, his utter lawlessness, and his threats.

And why should Steven Long* threaten me?" said the par&on. "But you need not answer," he continued in an agitated voice.

44Say

to Steven Long

—sayto him lie repeated in louder tones, "that I shall never marry. I" have consecrated my life to my holy calling."

There was a long silence tho words fell with crushing weight on both listener and speaker. We do not realize even our own determinations, sometimes, until we have told them to another. The girl rallied first for she still hoped. ,i

Mr. Peters," she said, taking all her courage in her hands and coming towards him, "is it wrong tp luarry

For me—it is."

"Why?"

Because I am a priest."

Are you a Catholic, then?"

441

am a Catholie, although ivit in the sense you mean. Mino is tue true Catholic faith which tho Anglican church has kept pure from the errors of Rome, anil mine it is to make my life accord with the high office I hold."

Is it part of

3rour

high office to bo

cold—and hungry—and wretched

441am

not wretchcd."

You are —now, and at all times.v-. You are killing yourself."

No else I had died long ago." Well, then, of what use is your poor, life as you now livo it, either to yourself or any one elso? lo you succeed among the jhiuers? How many have you brought into the ciiurch "Notone." -am®

And yourself? Have you succeeded, so far, in making yourself a saint

The girl sprang forward and caught his arm, her eyes full of love's pity. "You know you love me," she murmured "why fight against it? For I—I love you!"

Whit did tho parson do? He fell upon bis kneoH, but not to her, and uttered a Latin prayer, short but fervid.

All the kingdoms of tho world and tho glory of them," ho murmured, "would not be to mo so much as this." Then he rose.

Child," ho spid, "you know not what you do." And, opening tho door, he went away into the snowy forest. But the girl's weeping voice called after him, "Herman, Herman." Ho turned, she had sunk upon the threshold. Ho came back and lifted her for a moment in his arms.

v-*

(lod knows I have not," replied the parson, covering his face with his hands .. as the questions probed his sore, sad heart. "I have failod iu my work, I have failed in myself, I am of all men most miserable!—most miserable!"

Be com fori ed, Rosamond," lie said tenderly. "It is but a fancy, you will soon forget me. You do not really love me—such a o,ie as I," he continued, bringing forward, poor heart! his:o^m' greatest sorrow with unpityiug hand. "But thank you, dear, for the gentle fancy." Hestood a moment silent then touclied her dark hair with his quivering lips and disappeared.

Sunday merning tho sun rose un-. clouded, the snow lay deep on the ground, the first ice covered tho bay winter had come. At ten o'clock tuo customary servioe began in tho chapel of Saint John and Saint James, and the little congregation shlverod, and whls-' pered that it must really try to raise money for a t-tove. The parson did feeL tho

cold,

something with me." As she

spoke she drew into view a basket, *nd took from it delicate bread, chicken, cakes, preserved strawberries and a little tin coffeepot which, sotonthe coals, straightway emitted a delicious fragrance nothing was forgotten—cream, soger, and even snowy napkins.

The parson spoke not a word. But the girl talked for both, aa with flushed cheeks and atarry eyes she prepared the tempting meal, using many pretty arts and graceful motions, using

although he looked almost

bloodless in his whito surplice. Tbe Knglishwoman was there, repentant— tbe sick child bad not rallied under tho new ministration Mrs. Malone was there from sheer good nature, and several of the villagers and two or three miners had strolled in bccause they had nothing else to do, Brother Saul having returned to the mine. Roso Ray was not there. She was no saint, so she stayed at home and wept like a sinner.

Tbe congregation, which had sat silent through the service, fell entirely asleep during the sermon on the "General Councils." Suddenly, in the °®'dst of a sentence, there came a noise that stopped the parson And woke the sleepers. Two or three miners rushed Into the chapel and spoke to the few men present. "Comeeut," thoy cried, "oome out to the mine. Tbe thief's caught at last, snd who do you think it is Saul, Brother Saul himself, the hypocrite! They tracked him to his den, and there they found the barrels, and sacks, ana kegs, but toe stuff he's made away with most of it. He took it all, every crumb, and us a starving!"

We've run In to tell tbe town," wild another. "We've got him fast, and we are going to make a sample of bim. Come out and see the fun."

Yes," echoed a third, who lilted a ruffianly face from his short squat figore, "and we'll take our time, too. He's wiaAa us suffer, and now he shall suffer a bit, if I know myself'

The women shuddered as, with an* ominous growl, all tbe men went out to-f

^Vmiedottbt they'll hang bim," said Mrs. Malone, shaking her bead as she, looked after them. "Or worse," said the miner's wife.

Then the two departed, and the parson waa left alone. Did ho cut off tbe nervice No Deliberately he finished every word of tbe sermon, sang a hymn, and spoke the final prayer, then, after putting everytbihg in order, he too left

LbndwJcl on -Seventh rage.