Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1872-05-09

IL
of other thoughts. Half her childhood
had been passed in this meadow beside
the brook. There was the shallow where
she and Phil built the dam. Under that
bank he found the lark's nest which he
showed her and kept secret from all
the other girls. just then she had
caught her first trout. She remembered
how the hook got tangled in her curls,
and how Phil worked for half an hour
getting it out. She could feel his
fingers now, and see the bright boyish
face close to her own, and feel his
breath on her cheek. And on that
ummock-straDgest memory of all
they had sat that evening when he asked
her to marry him. Poor Phil She
had felt sorry about him sometimes of
alive yet-if he had quite got over feel
ing bad about her. But pshaw of
course he had. And thus the path,
pursue d almost unconsciously, brought
her to the bank where people were
standing in silent attentive groups.
For moment Sylvia shrank back.
Then. perceiving that no one turned or
seemed to notice her presence, she ven
tured to linger, even to press forward a
little, and soon, absorbed in what was
going on, she forgot all else. Directly
beneath where she stood lay the deep
pool in which Bayberry, losing for a
time its happy, ripping murmurs, ran
with placid and noiseless force. The
farther bank was soft with tufts of yell
low grass. There stood the choir, and
even as she gazed the leader raised his
hand and led the air of q wild, sweet
hymn, full of that blended triumph and
pathos which distinguishes the Metho-
dist hymnal, and which seems caught
from those early days when, on lonely
hill-tops and Cornish moors, John Wes-
ley stood and poured his burning mes
sage into the ears of the common peo-
pie, who heard him gladly. Never under
gay English skies dill the strains ring
with gladder meaning than now beneath
the blue New England heavens, with
the distant solemn mountains looking
on, and the ,rlash and jingle of Bayber-
ry Brook sounding each note like an
unseen accompaniment. One verse
no more-then. a hustle and stir took
place in the crowd below, and, slowly
emerging, two figures descended the
bank and passed into the water.
One was gray-haired Elder; the
other young woman, with long, stream
ing hair and black garments. Step by
step they gained the center of the pool,
standing waist-deep. paused, and turned
SO as to face the people, Sylvia bent
forward. She heard the sacred formula
pronounced, saw the girls head with it's
heavy tresses bend suddenly backward
and vanish beneath the swirling waves.
Another moment it rose again, and drip
ping and gasping the girl was led by the
Elder toward the shore, and assisted up
the bank by her friends, while wild
strain of welcome rang from the choir.
Another baptism followed, and another.
Thensso unusual excitement shook
the audience as a tan mans figure came
forward leading a young woman by the
hand Sylvia just caught sight OF the
girls face as they passed: a fair, modest
one, framed in light, braided, hair but
the Elder advanced, and placing him.
self between the two, led them into the
brook. The words of conservation were
uttered, the dark head and the fair van
ished in turn beneath the water, and
the forms turned again toward the
bank, the young man holding up the
girl with a strong arm. Her sweet, drip
ping face was quite unruff1ed in express
sion. His-Sylvia gasped as she gazed
wore a look of steadfast, honest peace,
which made the strong features abso-
lutely beautiful. It was Philip Thorpe,
the lover of her youth-no longer boy,
but man, every inch of him a man of
whom a woman might well be proud.
And just then gust of wind seized and
blew aside her vel, and Philips eyes,
as he slowly assembled the bank, met
hers, and he knew his lost. loves facel
"How dreadful white Phil Thorpe
looks, don't he?, whispered somebody
near by in the crowd. al wouldn't
wonder if he'd taken his death of chill"
But Mary Allen don't, f" was the re-
ply. "She's just as pretty and calm as
if she hadn't been in the water at all.
No wonder Phil thinks such heap of
her. Elder Quinn he wanted them to
go in separate, but Phil wouldn't hear
to it. 'She and mes going through life
together, and we're going to be baptized
together he said. The Elder couldn't
do nothing with him. 1 don't blame
him one mite, for my part"
Sylvia heard no more. The burning
flush which had rushed into her face on
meeting Phil's eyes gave place to death
like pal.or and feeling of sickly faint
ness. With desperate footsteps she
hurrie back across the meadow, feel
ing each moment as if she must sink.
The wild, sweet strain of the choir pur-
He win save you
-..#- He will save you
de viii save 0st y0s 1nst nsE@ now -. q.
.ss He will save you just now"
Would He? Oh, if He would sA