The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1878-03-06

plicl' y confided to him the doubts and fears OF
her soul that he listened charmed and en-
amored. He had never known such wo.
man. Perfectly versed IN the ways
of the world, yet innocent as child,
Beautiful and accomplished, yet simple and
natural IN word and thought. Wealthy and
cheap attire, befitting the quiet summer re-
fashionable and yet dressed day after dag in
treat. Unused as he was to the devices OF
woman ne could not see how perfectly she
had studied the part she was playing. She
meant it for a summer day pastime, as trifie
| to while away the languid hours OF August;
To so change and adapt herself, her living,
and her very dress, that time and place
should frame perfect picture of guileless
malden's dreams. She donned the garb of
country girl because she wanted variety in
| berlife, now growing monotonOus. She braid
| ed her soft, beautiful hair because she was
weary of curls and crimps. She read books
| of sense and reason because she was nause-
ated with the light, trashy novels of the day.
| She forsook all others Tor the aren't
/ young theological students because he was
the newest and the oldest specimen of nov
city that she could seize upon. And he,
poor fool, believed it real, and feared that it
was too pure picture, too heavenly Wis
ion for him to dare approach. She did not
| intend that it should last but she was hu-
man and a woman, and one day, listening to
his Headings, she promised that she would
] be his wife, and believed herself to be rs
| deeply in love as he was. But when, after
| an hours reflection, she laughed ct ms
weakness, he was off somewhere in the
| depths of the forest, thanking heaYen for
this last best giftto man.
When he saw her in her city home the
picture was changed. Magnificent in silk
and diamonds, she received him with some.
what of royal pomp. She was not the gen,
| tie uymph of the woods that he had wooed.
| but a dignfied woman of wealth and fashions
| She had around her all to make life desir-
able, and the contrast between her mansion
| and the humble home he must offer her
smote him like cruel blow, and he saw the
| folly of his act. Bat she, nothing daunted
| by his constrsint, forced him by the fascina-
! ton Of word and look to repeat his promises
and pledges, and he left her with the be
| trothal ring upon her hand, and his kiss
upon her willing lips. His first though
after his appointment was of her, and when
he reached Gienville, and saw the place
where, for twelve months his lot was cast, he
| longed for her to be with him. He felt
strangely timid as he entered the church
for the first time to attend the morning SER
vice, for he had arrived so late on Saturday
night that he had made few acqualntances
and there was such a lack of familiar faces
as he surveyed the congregation. To be
sure Mr.. Long had called at his room, and
escorted him to the church, but alas,
| for the young preachers peace of mind,
Mr.. Long occupied the time with
a minute recital of the numerous troubles
and difficulties of the congregation. The
lack of spiritual vitality was bemoaned, the
frequent and long intervals between revivals
recounted, and the need of the people for
preacher who could "stir them up" If
Mr.. Arnold asked any questions, no matter
how trivial, Mr.. Long had ready answers as
! comprehensive as the list of church men,
bers He introduced now and then some of
the shortcomings of other pastors, their lack
of executive ability, their weakness on va.
rious theological points, their extravaganza,
pride, family troubles, bad children any
thing and everything; all were ground up fine
in that morning talk of lone OF the official
members" The minister silently prayed
for strength, for help, for the one friend of
the friendless to sustain and direct. At the
church door, a general introduction took
place, and the little hum of voices penetrated
walked up the center aisle to the pulpit
many were the mods and gestures that sig
nailed like or dislike from one pew to another
As he knelt in silent prayer there were few
whispered comments, and then all settled
down to listen to the first words of the new
preacher AS he stood before them with
the open hymn book in his hand the people
were impressed with hequiet dignity of the
man. His features were large and as clearly
cut as a cameo, and his dark hair framed
the manly face well. His eyes wandered
| for an instant over the congregation, and
! there was no fear or timidity in their gray
depths. The moment of prayer had given
him strength. His voice trembled slightly
but grew firm as he read reverently, as
though prayer, the hymn
| Rock o ages, cleft for me,
| Let ma hide myself in Thee;
| Let the water aud ths blood
| From thy wounded side which flowed
| BE OF SIN the double cure,
| Save from n and make me pure.
There was an awkward pause as he finish.
ed the last line, and waited for some one to
lead the singing. The organ was closed.
Mr.. Long had informed him of the reason.
and no one seemed willing to take the in
itiatiye in the musical part of the devotion.
1t was but for an instant, and the minister,
with the memory of chapel exercises at col
lege fitting through his brain sang to the
old, old tune, the grand beseeching hymn.
The congregation joined him. with voices
cracked and discordant, but above all he
heard ringing as pure and clear as a silver
/ hell a rich sonrapo With lraar cor for