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BLACK Is. ROCK . chapter vi. BLACK ROCK I1EI.IOIOX. I\A/I IIEN ’ 1 fcrrow Wc * ar >’ will* the I w I conventions of religion and KvrTI Blek in my soul from feeding iSrfft-J upon husks that the churches too often offer ine in the shape of elab orate service and eloquent discourses, so that in my sickness I doubt and doubt, then I%o back to the commun ion in Block Rock and the days pre ceding it, and the fever and the weari ness leave me, and I grow humble and strong. The simplicity and rugged grandeur of the faith, the humble grat itude of the rough men I see about the table and the cifim radiance of one saintly fucc rest and recall me. Not Its most enthusiastic apologist would call Black Rock a religious com munity. hut It possessed in a marked degree that eminent Christian virtue of tolerance. All creeds, all shades of religious opinion, were allowed, a ml It was generally conceded that one,was 1 as good as another, it is fair to say. however, that Black Rock’s catholicity was negative rather than positive. The . only religion objectionable was that In sisted upon ns a necessity. It never occurred to any one to consider reli gion other than ns a respectable if not ornamental additiou to life in older lauds. During the weeks following the mak ing of the league, however, this nega tive attitude toward things religious gave place to one of keen investigation and criticism. The Indifference passed away and with it iu a large measure the tolerance. Mr. Craig was respon sible for the former of these changes, but hardly in fairness could be be held responsible for the latter. If any one more than another was to bo blamed for the rise of Intolerance in the vil lage, that man was Geordie Crawford. He had his “lines” from the Estab lished Kirk of Scotln'ud, and when Mr. Craig announced his intention of hav ing the sacrament of the Lord’s supper observed Geordie produced his lines and handed them iu. As no other man in the village was equipped with like spiritual credentials, Geordie constitut ed himself a kind of kirk session, charged with the double duty of guard ing the entrance to tlic Lord’s table and of keeping an eye upon the theo- ~t0giear 6p{aion1~or tne community and more particularly upou such members of it as gave evidence of possessing any opinions dotlnlte enough for state ment » It came to be Mr. Craig’s habit to drop into the leagueroom and toward the close of the evening to have n short Scripture lesson from the gospels. Geordie’s opportunity came after the meeting was over and Mr. Craig had gone away. The. men would hang about nud talk the lesson over, ex pressing opinions favorable or unfa vorable, as appeared to them good. Then it was tfcat all sorts of views, re ligious and otherwise, were aired and examined. The originality of the ideas, the absolute disregard of the authority of church or creed, the frankness with which opinions were stated and the forccfulness of the language in which they were expressed combined to make the discussions altogether marvelous. The passage between Abe Baker, the stage driver, and Geordie was particu larly rich. It followed upon n very telling lesson on the parable of the Pharisee and the publican. The chief actors iu that wonderful story were transferred to the Black Rock stage and were presented in min er’s costume. Abe was particularly well pleased with the scoring of the “blanked old rooster who crowed so blanked high” and somewhat incensed at the quiet remark interjected by G&ordie that “It was nno credit till a mon tae bo a sinner,” and when Geor die went on to urge the importance of right conduct and respectability Abe was led to pour forth vials of con temptuous wrath upon the Pharisees and hypocrites who thought themselves better than other people. But Geordie was quito unruffled nud lamcuted the Ignorance of men who, brought up in the “Epeescopawlyun or Methody” church, could hardly be expected to detect the *" Antinomian or Armlnlan heresies. "Aunty Nomyun or Undo Nomyun,” replied Abe, boiling hot, “ray mother was a Methodist, and I’ll back any blanked Methodist against any blank* ety blank long faced, lantern Jawed, fkinfllnt Presbyterianl” And this he was eager to maintain to any man’s satisfaction If ho would step aside. Geordie was quite unmoved, but has tened to assuro Abo that he meant no disrespect to his mother, who, lie had “nao doot, was a clever enough hud dle, tae Judge by her son.” Afio was spoodily appeased and offered to sot up the drinka all round, but Geordie, with evident reluctance, had to de cline, saying, "Na, na, lad; I’m a longue man, yo ken.” And I was sure that • Geordie at that moment felt that mem bership in the league had its draw backs. Nor was Geordie too suro of Craig’s orthodoxy, while, as to Mrs. Mnvor, whose slave be wao, ho was in the habit of lamenting her doctrinal con dition : "She's a lino whin man, nno doot; but, puir cratur, sho’s fair carried *wn’ wl’ the errors o’ tho Epeeoco- pawlyuns.” It tall to Geordie, therefore, as a it- «ad flgtr. In view ot th« lixto -St those wlfo seemed to Co the pillars of the church, to he all the more watch ful and uuyielUmg, but bo was delight fully Inconsistent when confronted with particulars. In conversation with him one night after one of tho meet ings, when lie hud been specially hard upon the Ignorant and godless, I inno cently changed the subject to Billy Breen, whom Geordie bad taken to bis sliaek since the night of the leugue. He was very proud of Billy's success In the fight against whisky, the credit of which he divided evenly between Mrs. Mnvor and himself. “He’s fair daft about her.” he ex plained to me, “an* I’ll no deny but she's a great help aye, a verra con- 6eodornblc_ns8cestaueo— but, mon, she rtoesim ken the whusky an’ the inside that’s ii. Ay her pain »t less I lira 1 ik if* u-alfter Ik iu a bonny glen on a simmer eve, with the birus liltin’ about, tae sit in yon roomie an’ bear her sing. But when tho night is on an’ ye canna sleep, but wauken. wl* an’ awfu’ thurst an’ wl’ dreams o’ cozy Uresides an’ the bonny sparklin’ glosses, as it is wi’ puir Illlly-aye, it’s then ye need a mon wi’ a guid.grlp be side ye.” “What do you do then, Geordie?” 1 asked. “Oo, aye, I Juist gang for a lit walk wi’ the lad an’ then pits the kettle on an’ makes a cup o’ tea or coffee, an’ a IT he gangs tae sleep like a bairn.” “Boor Billy!” I said pityingly. “Thera is no hope for him in the future, I fear.” “Hoot awn, mon!” said Geordie quickly. “Ye wadna keep oot a puir crater frae creepin* in that’s daeln’ his best?” “But. Geordie,” 1 remonstrated, “be doesn’t know anything of the doctrines. I don’t believe he could give us “the chief end of man.’ ” "An’ wha’s tae blame for that?” said Geordie, with fine indignatiou. “An’ maybe you remember the prood Phari see an’ tho puir wummnn that cam’ creepin’ in ahint the Maister." Tho mingled tenderness and indigna tion in Geordie’s face were beautiful to see, so I meekly answered: “Well, I hope Mr. Craig won’t be too strict with the boys.” Geordie shot a suspicious glance at me, but I kept my face like a summer morn, and he Implied cautiously: “Aye, he’s no* that slrecet, but ho maun cxerceese dlscreemination.” Geordie was none the less determin ed, however, that Billy should “come forrit,” but ns to the manager, who was a member of the English church, and some others who had been con firmed years ago and had forgotten much and denied more, he was ex tremely doubtful and expressed him self in very decided words to the min ister: “Ye’ll no be askin’ forrit the Epees- cvpawlyun buddies. They juist keu uaelhiu’ ava.” But Mr. Craig looked at him. for a moment a-ud said, ‘“Him that cometh unto me 1 will in nowise cast out.’ " and Geordie was silent, though he con tinued doubtful. With all these somewhat fantastic features, however, there was no mis taking the earnest spirit of the men. The meetings grew larger every night, and the interest became more intense. The singing became different. The men no longer simply shouted, but us Mr. Craig would call attention to the senti ment of the hymn the voices would at tune themselves to the words. Instead of encouraging anything like emotional excitement Mr. Craig seemed to fear it. “These chaps are easily stirred up,” he would say, “and I am anxious that 'they should know exactly what they are doing. It is far too serious a busi ness to tritle with.” Although Graeme did not go down stairs to the meetings, ho could not but feel the throb of the emotion beating in the heart of the community. I used to detail for his benefit and sometimes for his amusement the Incidents of each night, but l never felt- quite easy in dwelling upon the humorous fea tures iu Mrs. Mayor’s presence, al though Craig did uot appear to mind. Ills manner with Graeme was perfect. Openly anxious to win him to his side, he did uot Improve the ^occasion and vex him with exhortation. He would not take him at a disadvantage, though, as I afterward found, this was not his solo reason for his method. Mrs. Mavor, too. showed herself In a wise and tender light. She might have been Ills sister, so frank was she and so openly affectionate, laughing at his fretfulue88 and soothing his weariness. Never were better comrades than wo four, and tho bright days speeding so swiftly on drew us nearer to one nn- other. But the bright days came to an cud, for Graeme, when once lie was able to go about, became anxious to get back to the camp. And so the last day came, a day I remember well. It was a bright, crisp winter day. The air was shimmering in the frosty light. Tho mountains, with their shin- lug heads piercing through tho light clouds into that wonderful blue of tho western sky and their feet pushed into tho pine masses, gazed down upon Black Rock with calm, kindly looks on their old gray faces, llow one grows to love them, steadfast old friends! Par up among tho pines wo could seo tho und so still und'ao clear was tho mono* tain air that we could hear the puff of the steam and from far down the river tho murmur of the rapids. The maje* tic silence, tho tender beauty, the peace, the loneliness, too, cams steal ing in upon us as we three, leaving Mrs. Mavor behind us, marched arm in’arm down the street. We had not gone far on our way when Graeme, turning round, stood a moment looking back, then waved his hand in farewell. Mrs. Mavor wus at her window, smil ing and waving in return. They bod grown to be great friends, these two, and seemed to have arrived at some understanding. Certainly. Graeme’s manner to her was not that be bore to other women. UIs half quizzical, some what superior, uir of mocking devotion gave place to a simple, earnest, almost teuder, respect, very uew to him, but very wlnniug. As he stood there waving his fare well I glanced at his face and saw for u moment what I had not seen for yeurs, a faint flush on Graeme’s.cheek and a light of simple, earnest faith in his eyes. It reminded me of my first look of him when he had come up fof his, matriculation to the varsity. He stood on the campus looking up at the noble old pile, and there Was the same bright, trustful, earnest look on his boyish face. I know not what spirit possess^ me -It may have been the pain of the memory working in me—but I laid coarsely enough: “It's no use. Graeme, my boy. I would fall in love with her myself, but tiiere would be uo chance even for me.” The flush slowly darkened as he turned and said deliberately: “It’s not like you. Connor, to be an ass of that peculiar kind. Love! Not exactly! She won’t fall in love un less”— And he stopped abruptly, with his eyes upon Craig. But Craig met him -with unshrinking gaze, quietly remarking, “Her heart Is under the pines.” And we moved on, each thinking his own thoughts and guessing at the thoughts of the others. We were on our way to Craig’s shack, and as we passed the saloon Slaviu stepped from the door with a salutation. Graeme paused. • “Hello. Slav In! I got rather the worst of it. didn’t 1?” S’.avin came uear and said earnestly: “It was a dirty trick altogether. You’ll not think It was mine, Mr. Graeme.” “No, uo, Slavin. You stood up like a man,” said Graeme cheerfully. "And you beat me fair, nud. bodad, it was a neat, one that laid me out, and there’s no grudge in my heart till you.” “All right, Slavin. We’ll perhaps un derstand each other better after this.” “And that’s true for you, sig, and I’ll see that your boys don’t get any more than they ask for,” replied Slavin, backing away. “And I hope that won’t bo much,” put In Mr. Craig, but Slavin only grin ned. When we came back to Csaig’s shack, Graeme was glad to rest irt the big chair. C’raig made him a cup of ten, while I smoked, admiring much the deft neat ness of the minister’s housekeeping and the gentle, almost motherly, way he had with Graeme. In our talk we driftcal Into the future, aifd Craig let us see what were his am bitions. The railway was social to come. The resources were us yet unexplored, but enough was known to assure a great future for British Columbia. As he talked his enthusiasm grew aud car ried us away. With the eye of a gen eral he surveyed the Country, fixed tl»« strategic points which the church must seize upon. Eight good meat would hold the country from Fort Steele to the const and from Kootenai to Caribou. “The church must be In with the rail way. She must have a baud in the shaping of the country. If society crys tallizes without her influence, the coun try is lost, and British Columbia will be another trapdoor to’tho bottomless pit.” “What do you propose?” I asked. “Organizing a little congregation here in Black Rock.” “How many will you get?” "Don’t kuoVv.” “Pretty hopeless business,” I said. “Hopeless! Hopeless!” he cried. "There were only twelve of us at first to follow him, and rather a poor lot they were. But he braced them up, and they conquered the world.” “But surely things are different,” said Graeme. “Things? Yes, yes, but he is the same.” His face had an exalted look, and hl» eyes were gazing into faraway places. “A dozen men in Black Rock, with some real grip of him, would make things go. Wefll get them, too,” ho went on in growing excitement. *‘I be lieve in my soul we’ll get them.” “Look here, Craig. If you organize. I’d like to Join.” said Gracnte Impul sively. “I don’t believe much In your creed or your church, but I’ll be blow- ed if I don’t believe in you.” Craig looked at him with wistful eyes nud shook his head. "It won’t do, old chap, you know. I can’t hold you. You’ve got to have tt grip of some one better than I am. and then, besides, I hardly like asking you now.” Uo hesitated. "Well, to be out and out, thiq. step must be takeu not for my sake or for any man’s sake, aud I faucy that perhaps you feU like plea sin me Just now a little.” “That i do, old fellow,” said Graeme, putting out his hand. ’Til be hanged If I won’t do anything you say.” "That’s why l won’t say,” replied Craig. Then reverently ho added: "The organization is uot mine. U is my Mss- tor's.” "When are you going to begin?” asked Graeme. “We shall have our communion serv ice In two weeks, and that will bo our roll call." "How many,will answerT* Tasked doubtfully. - . “I know of thro*," hejsid qntttfr, _ •Three! There are'200 mlsrfT'ind 100 lumbermen. Three!” And Craem* looked at him in amazement. “You think it worth while to orgaalae three?” "Well,” replied Craig, stalling for the first time, "the organization won't .be elaborate, but It will be effective, and. besides, loyalty demands obedience.” We sat long that afternoon talking, shrinking from the breaking up. for we knew that we were about to turu down a chapter in our Uvee which we should delight to linger over in after days, and in my life there is but one brighter. At last we said goodby and drove away, and, though many farewells have come In between that day and this, non# Is so vividly present to me as that be tween us three men. Craig's manner with me was solemn enough; “ ‘He that loveth his life*—goodly. Don’t fool with this.” wus what be said to me, but when he turned to Graeme his whole fuce lighted up. He took him by the shoulders end gave him a little shake, looking into his eyes and saying over and over In a lew, sweet tone: "You’ll come, old chap, you’ll come, you’ll come. Tell me you’ll come.” And Graeme could say nothing la re ply, but only looked at him. _ Than they silently shook bauds, and we drove off. but long after we bad go? over the mountain and Into the wind ing forest road on the way to the lum ber camp the voice k«-pt vibrating in my heart, “You’ll come, you’l come,” aud there was a hot pain iu my throat We said little during the drive te the camp. Graeme was thinking hard and made no answer when I spoke to him two or three times till we camfe to the deep shadows of the pine forest, when, with a II.ile shiver, he said: <“lt is all a tangle, a hopeless tan-< gle.” “Meaning what?” I asked. “This business of religion. What quaint varieties—S’elaou’s, Geordie’s. Billy Breen’s—If be has any—time. Mrs. Mavor’s—she Is a saint, ,of course- ami that fellow Craig’s! What a trump he is! Aud without his religion he’d be pretty much like the. rest of us. It Is too much for me.” His mystery was not mine. Black Rock varieties of religion were certain ly startling, but there was undoubt edly the streak of reality through them all, und that discovery I felt to be a distinct gain. * HE gloom of the great fire througlT the windows et the great camp gave a kindly welcome as we drove into the clearing In which the ehantles stood. Graeme was greatly touched at his enthusiastic welcome* b> the men. At the supper table he* made a little speech of thanks for tUtir faith fulness during his absence, specially commending the care and efficiency, of Mr. Nelson, who had had charge of the camp. The men cheered, wildly. Baptiste’s shrill voice,leading all. Nel son, being called upon, expressed la a few words his pleasure at seeing the boss back and thanked the men for their support while he bod been* in ebafge. The men were for making a night of it; but, .fearifig the effect upon Graeme, I spoke to Nelson, who- pass ed the word, 'and Ih a short time the camp was quiet. As we saun tered from the grub camp to the office, where was our bed, we pdused te lake iu the beauty of the night. The aOon rode high over the peaks of the moua’- tains, flooding the narrow valley with mellow light. Under her magie the rugged peaks softened their harsh lines and seemed to lean lovingly toward us. The dark pine masses stood silent, as iu breathteks adoration. The dazzling •uow lay like a garment over ail the Open spaces In soft, waviug'folds and crowded every stump with a quaintly shaped nightcap. Above the camps the smoke curled tip from the campfires, standing like pillars of cloud that kept watch while men slept, amT tfigh.over all the deep blue night sky, with its star jewels, sprang Ilk* the roof of a groat cathedral from rauge to range, covering us in its kiudly shelter. Hew homelike aud safe seemed the valley, with its mountain sides, ks sentinel trees and archiug roof of Jeweled sky! then the night seemed kindly, and friendly the stars, and .the lone cry of the wolf fsotu thi deep fWest seemed like the voice of a comrade. “Bow beautiful! Too boautiful!” said Graeme, stretdhlug out his arms. “A night like this fakes the heart out of me.” I stood silent, drinking In at every sense tho night, with its wealth of loveliness. “What Is it I w*ntV he vyent on. “Why doe* tho night make my heart ache? There are things to seo and things to hear Just btyonJ me. I can not get to them.” The gny, careless look was gone from his face. His dark eyes were wlsfful with’yearning. “I often wonder if life has tfetblqg better for the,” he contluucd with his heartache voice. I said no word, but put my arm with- lu his. A light appeared in the itable. Glad <Jf a diversion, I said: ••What is the light? Let us go and •ee.” “Sandy, taking a last look at his team, like tflaag&T “ (To be continued.) "Where Oceaa Breezes Blew”; Is th, p!*c* to (o I* the summer for rest,*' recreaHoo and a real (cod time. Travel via’ The Central ef totrgia Railway, la a lev hour, you can be on Ike choree of the Atlantic, lltfenlng to the rear of the ,urf, drinking in die vine-like air, he thing, beating, flihing and daneing, and mingling with a gay throng of chunlng, good-natured people; the btecit df bide skies above you. A maximum of pleasure et a minimum of cost. 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Receives accounts of Banks, Corporations, Firms and Individuals, aad offer to depositors *v«ry accomodatien, thsir basinets, balances and responsibility warrants. D>r*ctor*:Tho«. P. Vin.ent, Jo,. N W.bb, A.S. Erwin, BHIep* Phlaley Jo,. D. Fleming, Jno J. Wilkin, THE UNIVERSITY SAVINGS BANK, CAPITAL 40,000 Recti.*, accounts, on which l*terMt 11 p*nJ. b*'» ,cnr ■one., **e l * r S!rKten: , BIHep,i’Wni«T?A. S. Er»i*. S. Webb.J. H. Fleming, Tho*. p. Vincent. Jno. J. Wilkin*. Athens Foundry & Machine Works ATHENS, GEORGIA. If you are in need of Lumber, ash, Doors, Blinds, Brick, Lime, Cement, Moulding, Turned Col- mns, Balusteri, Bracket*, Man tel* or anything else» call on the “GEORGIA' 9 Sorghum and Sugar-Cane Mills. The "Georgia 11 MUU »« «r-.nt£ <*rjd week, end Manifest delests iu the materials er werkamaehlp.