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s Black si
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Rockl
By RALPH CONNOR
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in the'old way and said: “It was well
done. It must have been worth see
ing. Old man Nelson’s work is not
done yet. Tell me again.” Ahd he
ma.de me go oyer the whole seene, with
all the details put in.
But when I told Mrs. Mavor after
two rears had cone she onlr said. “Old
ggjfijj
tilings are passea away; all things are
become new,” but the light glowed in
her eyes till I could not see their color.
But all that, too, is another story.
Beetles consigned him to the pit and
was silent, for his father was an Epis
copal clergyman and his mother a
saintly woman.
•'I fooled with that for some time,
Beetles, but it won’t do. You can’t
build a religion that will take the dev
il out of a man on a myth. That won’t
do the trick. I don’t want to argue
about it, but I am quite convinced the
myth theory is not reasonable, and, be
sides, it won’t work.”
“Will the other work?” asked Rat
tray, with a sneer.
“Sure,” said Graeme. “I've seen it.”
“Where?” challenged Ratti’ny. "I
haven’t seen much of it.”
“Yes, you have, Rattray; you know
you have,” said Wig again.
But Rattray ignored him.
"I’ll tell you, boys,” Bald Graeme.
“I want you to know anyway why 1
believe what I do.”
Then he told thorn the story of old
man Nelson, from the old coast days,
before I knew him, to the oml. Ho
told tho story well. The stern light
and tho victory of tho life and tho self
sacrifice and tho pathos of tho death
appealed to those men, who, loved light
and could understand sacrifice.
“That’s why I beliove in Jesus Christ,
and that’s why I think it a crime to
fling his name about.”
“I wish, to b®avon I could say that,”
said Booties.
“Keep wishing hard, enough, and it
(will como to you,” said Graeme.
“Look hero, old chap,” said Rattray.
“You're quite right about this. I’m
willing to own up. Wig is correct. I
know a fow at least of that stamp, but
most of those who go in for that sort
of thing are ndt much account.”
“For ten years, Rattray,” said Ghierao
in a downright matter of fact way,
“you and I havo tried this sort of
thing,” tapping a bottle, “and we got
Out of it all there is to bo got, paid
well for it, too, and, faugh, you know
it’s not good enough, and tho more you
go in for it the more you curse your
self^ So I havo quit this, and I am
going in for tho other.”
“What? Going in for preaching?”
“Not much—railroading, money in it
—and lending a hand to fellows on tho
rocks.”
“I say, don’t you want a center for
ward?” said big Barney in his deep
voice.
“Every man must play his game in
his place, old chap. I’d like to see you
tackle it, though, right well,” said
Graeme earnestly.
And so he did in tho after years, and
good tackling it was. But that is an
other story.
“But, I say, Graeme,” persisted Bee
tles, “about this business—do you mean
to say you go the whole thing—Jonah,
you know, and the rest of it?”
Graeme hesitated, then said:
“I haven’t much of a creed, Beetles;
don’t really"know how much I beliove.
But”—by this time he was standing—
“I do know that good is good, and bad
is bad, and good and bad are not tho
same, and I know a man’s a fool to fol
low the one and a Aviso n*nn to follow
tlie other, and,” loAvering.liis voice, “I
believe God is at the back of a man
who Avants to get done with bad. I’vo
tried all that folly,” sweeping his hand
over the glasses and bottle’s, “and all
that goes Avith it, and I’ve done with
it.”
“I’ll gq you that far,” roared big Bar
ney, following his old captain as of
yore.
“Good man,” said Graeme, striking
hands with him.
“Put ine down,,” said little Wig cheer
fully.*
Then I took up the word, for there
rose before ^me tlie scene in the league
saloon, and I saw the beautiful faco
(with the deep, shining eyes, and I avus
-r of
these men’s
of how I had
been too I indolent to begin. “But,” I
.said, “l am ,goih|f this far from tonight."
And I swept' the bottles into the cham
pagne tub.
“I say,” said Polly Lindsay, coming
up in his old style, slow, but sure, “let’s
nil go in, say, for. five years.”
And so Ave did. We didn’t sign any
thing,, but every man shook hands Avith
Graeme.
And as I told Craig about this a year
later, -when he was bn his way back
from his old land trip to join Graeme
’ ’ * mountains, he threw Up his head
CHAPTER XV.
comma to their own.
r?r\ MAN with a conscience is of-
I I ten provoking, sometimes im-
fteffTSsa possible. Persuasion is lost
Usggg?] U p on him. He will not get
angry, and he looks at one with such a
faraway expression in his face that in
striving to persuade him one feels
earthly and even fiendish. At least
this Avas my experience with Craig.
He spent a week Avith me just before
he sailed for the old land for the pur
pose, as he said, of getting some of the
coal dust and other grime out of him.
He made me angry the last night of
his stay and all the more that ho re
mained quite sweetly unmoved. It
was a strategic mistake of mine to tell
him hoAv Nelson came home to us and
how Graeme stood up before the var
sity chaps at my supper and made his
confession and confused Rattray’s easy
stepping profanity and started his own
five year league, for all this stirred in
Craig the hero, and he avos ready for
all sorts of heroic nonsense, as I called
It. Wo talked of everything but the
one thing, and about that we said not
a word till, bending Ioav to poke my
fire and to hide my faco, I plunged:
“You Avill see her, of course?”
He made no pretense of not under
standing, but answered:
“Of course.”
“There’s really no sense in her stay
ing over there,” I suggested.
“And yet she is a Aviso Avomau,” he
said, ns if carefully considering the
question.
“Heaps of landlords never see their
tenants, and they are none tho worse.”
“Tho landlords?”
“No, tho tenants.”
“Probably, having such landlords.”
“And, as for the old lady, there must
bo somo one in the connection to Avhom
it would be a godsend to care for her.”
“Noav, Connor,” he said quietly,
“don’t. Wo have gone over all there
is to be said. Nothing now has come.
Don’t turn it all up agnlu.”
Then I played the heathen and raged,
ns Graomo Avould have,said, till Craig
smiled a little Avearily and said:
“You exhaust yourself, old chap.
Have a pipe—do.” And after a pause
he added in his own way: "What
would you hnA'e? The path lies straight
from my feet. Should I quit it? I
could not so disappoint you—and all
of them.”
And I know he Avas thinking of
Graeme and the lads in tho mountains
ho had taught to bo true men. It did
not help my rage, but It checked my
speech, so I smoked in silence till he
was moved to say:
“And after all, you know, old chap,
there are great Compensations, for all
losses, but for the loss of a good con
science toward God what can make
up?”
But, all the same, I hoped for some
better result from his visit to Britain.
It seemed to mo that something must
turn up to change such an unbearable
situation.
The year passed, however, and when
I looked into Craig’s face again I knew
that nothing had been changed and
that he had come back to take up
again his life alone, more resolutely
hopeful than ever.
But the year had left its mark upon
him too. He Avas a broader and deep
er mau. He had been living and think
ing with men of larger ideas and rich
er culture, and he was far too quick
in sympathy with life to remain un
touched by his surroundings. He Avas
more tolerant of opinions other than
his oAvn, but more unrelenting in his
fidelity to conscience and more impa
tient of half heartedness and self in
dulgence. He was full of reverence
for the great scholars and the great'
leaders of men he had come to know.
“Groat, noble fellows they are and
extraordinarily modest,” he said—“that
is, the really great are modest. There
are plenty of the other sort, neither
great nor. modest. And the books to
be read! I am quite hopeless about
my reading. It gave me a queer sensa
tion to shake hands with a man who
had written a great book. To hear
him make commonplace remarks, to
witness a faltering in knowledge—one
expects these men to know everything
—and to experience respectful kindness
at his hands!”
“What of the younger men?” I asked.
“Bright, keen, generous fellows—In
things theoretical omniscient, but in
things practical quite helpless. They
tbss about great ideas as the miners
lumps of coal. They can call them by
their book names easily enough, but I
often wonder whether they could put
them into English.. Some of them I
coveted for the mountains, men with
clear heads and big hearts and built
after Sandy McNaughtbii’s model, it
does, seem a sinful waste of God’s good
human stuff to see these fellows potter
away their lives among theories, living
and dead, and end up by producing a
book. They are all either making or,
going' to make a book. A good thing
Ate haven’t to read them. But here
and there among them is some quiet!'
chap who Avill make, a book that men J
Will tunable over eUch other to read.”
Then .we, paused and looked at each
mm ; * .
“Well?” I said.
He understood me.
“Yes,” he answered slowly, “doing
great work. Every one worships her
just as we do, and she is making them
all do something worth while, as she
used to make us.”
He spoke cheerfully and readily, as if
he were repeating a lesson well learn
ed, but he could not humbug me. I
felt the heartache in the cheerful tone.
“Tell me about hef,” I said, for I
knew that if he would talk it would do
him good, and talk he did, often forget
ting me, till, as I listened, I found my
self looking again into the fathomless
eyes and hearing again the heart
searching voice. I saw her go in and
out of the little red tiled cottages and
doAvn the narrow back lanes of the vil
lage; I heard her voice in a sweet, low
song by the bed of a dying child or
pouring forth floods of music in the
great new hall of the factory town
near by, but I could not see, though
he tried to show me, the stately, gra
cious lady receiving the country folk
in her home. He did not linger over
that scene, but went back again to the
gate cottage where she had taken him
one day to see Billy Breen’s mother.
“I found the old woman knew all
about me,” he said simply enough, “but
there Avere many things about Billy
she had never heard, and I Avas glad
to put her right on some points, though
Mrs. Mavor Avould not hear it.”
Ho sat Bilent for a little, looking into
the coals, then Avent on in a soft, quiei
A'oice:
“It brought back the mountains and
the old days to hear again Billy’s tones
in his mother’s voice and to see her
sitting there in the very dress she wore
the night of the league, you remember
—some soft stuff with black lace about
it—and to hear her sing as she did for
Billy. Ah! Ah!”
•His voice unexpectedly broke, but in
a moment he was master of himself
and begged me to forgive his weak
ness. I am afraid I said words that
should not be said, a thing I never do
except when suddenly and utterly up
set.
“I am getting selfish and weak,” he
said. "I must get to Avork. I am glad
to get to work. There is much to do,
and it Is Worth while, if only to keep
one from getting useless and lazy.”
“Useless and lazy!” I said to myself,
thinking of my life beside his and try
ing to get command of my voice, so as
not to make quite a fool of myself,
and for many a day those words goad
ed me to work and to the exercise of
some mild self denial. But, more than
all else, after Craig had gone back to
the mountains Graeme’s letters from
the railway construction camp stirred
one to do unpleasant duty long post
poned and rendered uncomfortable my
hours of most luxurious ease. Many
of the old gang were with him, both
of lumbermen and miners, and Craig
was their minister, and the letters told
of Iioav he labored by day and by night
along the line of construction, carry
ing his tent and kit with him, preach
ing straight sermons, watching by sick
men, writing their letters and winning
their hearts, malting strong their lives
and helping them to die well when
their hour came.
One day these letters proved too
much for me, and I packed away my
paints and brushes and made my vow
unto the Lord that I would be “useless
and lazy” no longer, but Avould. do
something with myself. In consequence
I found myself within three weeks
walking the London hospitals, finishing
my course, that I might join that band
of men who were doing something with
life or, if throwing it away, were not
losing it for nothing. I had finished
being a fool, I hoped, at least a fool of
the useless and luxurious kind. The
letter that came from Graemo in reply
to my request for a position on his staff
Avas characteristic of the man. both
new and old, full of gayest huinor and
of most earnest Avelcome to the work.
Mrs. Mavor’s reply was like herself:
T knew you would not long be content
with the malting of pictures, which tho
world does not really heed, and would join
. your friends in the dear west, making
lives that the world needs so sorely.
But her last words touched me
strangely:
But be sure to be thankful every day
for your privilege. * * * It will be good to
think of you all, with the glorious moun
tains about you and Christ’s own work in
your hands. * * * Ah, how we would like
to choose our work and the place in which
to do It!
The longing did not appear in the
words, but I needed no words to tell
me hoAV deep and hotv constant it was,
and I take some credit to myself that
in my reply I gave her no bidding to
join our band, but rather praised the
work she’’ was doing in her place, tell
ing her hoAv I had heard of it from
Craig.
The summer, found me religiously do
ing Paris and Vienna, gaining a more
perfect acquaintance Avith the extent
and variety of my own ignorance, and
so fully occupied in this interesting and
AVliolesoine occupation that I fell out
Avifh all my correspondents, with the
result of weeks of silence.between u&
IO BE CONTINUED.
Happy Tlumgrlit.
Photographer—Now, I want you to
look as if you were not having your
picture taken:
Customer—Then you’d better give me
back the deposit I made in advance.—
Life.
Kelsou’s Odd Appearance.
When Lord Nelson was commanding
the Mediterranean squadron and lying
off the bay of Biscay, the captains of
two Spanish frigates lately arrived
from America sent to entreat the honor
of an audience Avith the admiral, merely
to give themselves the gratification of
seeing a person whom they considered
to be the greatest man in the world.
Captain Hardy took their request to
Lord Nelson and urged compliance
with it, notwithstanding the admiral’s
querulous reply of, “What is there to
see in an old, withered fellow like my
self?”
Nelson always wore short breeches
and silk stockings, and at this moment
his legs were bound at the knee and an
kle with pieces of brown paper soaked
in vinegar and tied with red tape. The
application was to allay the irritation
of some mosquito bites.
Quite forgetting this and the extraor
dinary appearance it presented, he
went on deck to the Spanish captains
and conducted the intervieAy with such
perfect good breeding and courtesy that
his odd appearance was quite forgotten
in the charm of his manners, and the
Spaniards went away with every high
opinion confirmed Avhich they had pre
viously formed of Lord Nelson.
When a boy turns his bulging
pocket inside out we marvel at the
quantity and variety of articles he
has stowed away. Odd lengths of
string, marbles, a horse-chestnut, a
top, brass nails, hickory-nuts, an ap
ple,,and many more articles are gar
nered by this “snapper up of uncon
sidered trifles.” We think the col
lection must be hard on a boy’s
pocket. And it is. Blit do we ever
think of the variety and miscellany
of the substances we put into the
pocket of our stomach? There’s the
apple and the nuts, and things bo-
sides quite as indigestible as brass
hails and with no more food value
than so many marbles. And yet we
Avonder that the stomach “gives
out.” When the stomach breaks
down under the strain of careless
eating and irregular meals it can be
perfectly and permanently restored
to health and strength by the use of
Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discov
ery. The action of this medicine on
the stomach and other organs of di
gestion and nutrition is so marked
that relief from disease is at once
experienced, and the headaches, liv
er “troubles,” kidney disorders, skin
eruptions and other symptoms of a
diseased stomach are quickly cured.
Whenever the use of a laxative med
icine is indicated, use Dr. Pierce’s
Pleasant Pellets. They act in har
mony with the “Discovery” and as
sist its action by purging the bowels
of foul accumulations.
The Southern Cultivator
is the best Agricultural in gazine
published in the South, and is is
sued twice a month.
We will furnish the Cultivator
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for $1.75, cash in advance. Seud
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