Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1880-04-16

~ TO good objects. ana Seemou W oCho'
| men quiet, earnest, kind-hearted man,
implicitly to be trusted, leaning rather to
generosity than to justice.
What he endured in all this time was
known only to himself and to Cod his con-
science tormeAted him continually; it WAS
by constant recalling of the promises to
repentant sinners that he endured life. No
doubt he knew hundred who had slnned
as deeply as he had and as successfully
concealed their sin, but he did not know
that probably in all the hundred not one
suffered such agonies of regret and repent
| ance as he did To them the thing was
over, done with; their business was to see
to this days work or duty; they put the
past decisively behind them, not because
they ought to, but because they wanted to.
But to sensitive moral nature like his
this course was impossible; even though
he felt assured that for Christ's sake his
grievous sin was forgiven above, he could
not forget its commission. Day after day
he retraced every step of his temptation !;
recalled the half crazed state of mind in
which be was for weeks; the sin itself !;
1.-THE concealments he had resorted to, IN
themselves degrading; the terrors of dis
covery; the agonies Of remorse.
He grew morbid with this introspection;
perpetually thinking of himself, life be-
came bitter in all its uses. He never went
! into society without thinking. ''If these
people knew about me!' He never received
a cold look, but he felt that possibly the
man who gave it had fathomed his secret
and despised him. Over and over he said
to himself, ''What if Sara knew itp' and
his whole heart shivered within him. He
did Sara-who was his wife-the greatest
injustice In this thought. She was wo-
man more than usually loving, unselfish
and forgiving. If John could have told
her-which was out of the question
out of her sweet compassion and
tenderness he would have felt his
way back to healthy spiritual life, but
without the touch of human sympathy he
found it hard to lay hold on the divine,
and saw even the Father who loves his
erring children, and welcomes them back
from their wandering and starvation, with
eyes blinded by his own unshed tears. 1t
was in this sort of mood that he fell in,
one year. just before Thanksgiving day,
with an old college friend, a hard working
minister in city parish, a man that had
seen more sin than John Carter had ever
dreamed of, and combated it in all it's pro-
team shapes Of poverty. Ignorance and de-
graduation.
"Where are you bound for Joe?" John
said, as they met at railway station.
''Bound for home, man!'' answered the
Rev. Joseph Dyer. Where else should a
man be going, this time of year, but home
to the old folks and Thanksgiving"
''Do you always feel IN the mood to be
thankful, then, on the set day?"
''To be sure I do, Jack; why not
There's always enough to be grateful for;
the Bible wouldn't say, In everything
give thanks, if there was not something
in all things to be thankful for"
IL don't know about that, there are
things in every mans life for which be
can't be thankful. You cannot expect
any man, for instance, to be grateful that
he has sinned?"
A certain thrill in the tone and a little
culver of the eyelid told Mr.. Dyer's keen
ear and eve more than John Carter meant
to tell.
81 think man sometimes ought to be
more thankful for his sin than for his
goodness, Jack. I don't mean for the SIN
as a sin, but for its use to his moral life
if he receives the lesson rightly. How on
earth are you going to feel any sympathy
with sinners if you nave never fallen?
Only God incarnate could do that"
ssBut think of the suffering sin entails
on the sinner himself; could you be thank
full to have.a dreadful wound inflicted OIL
youp"
Joseph Dyer looked at his friend again
with eyes pitiful and penetrating both.
my dear fellow, I've seen a man hear
tily glad of wound that made him help
less simply because it kept him out OF
temptation; and sinner whose conscience
torments him because Of one great sin
will never commit such another"
Here was Mr.. Carriers station, and as he
left the car he wrung his friends hand
with unnecessary fervor.
s'Poor Jack' said Mr.. Dyer to himself
little knowing how much he had done to
help the weary burden-bearer.
It CHANGED, as we fools say, that the
) next week an acquaintance came Into
John Carter's Office; man about his age;
not friend, but person whom he con-
stantly met as business men do meet each
; other. Mr.. Pierce was ordinarily ford
prosperous man; to-day he was CHASTITY pale
and looked twenty years older than usual
"Carter!' said he, hoarsely; lean
speak to you moment IN private?"
John Carter turned the key in his office
door; his clerk had gone home to dinner.
"Nobody will disturb us, Pierce; what
is lt?"
Mr.. Pierce groaned and turned his head
away, then he resolutely faced Mr.. Carter
sIt's no usel | must tell. Carter,
want ten thousand dollars. have been
rascal; have specialized with money
that didn't belong to me and lost it; to-
morrow the girls guardian will send fol
it. She is to be married. I don't know
: why 1 came to you; but did! want to
borrow this money and save my wife and
children from disgrace, and myself from
/ PRISON.
8 "You shall have it." said John Carter
f It almost seemed to him ray of heavenly
Q light. this chance to help another man