The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1880-04-21
An Unexpected Witness.

tGS RWnlrIA L IN ana la5mlIy were AT
th.ir summer residence in Berkt ton. II
was a warm June evening. and MIR. Ran
kin was sitting on the piazza when his
m Ill WAS handed to him. 1t was 8,
seldom that lac received any communi.
cation of importance not contained III
his daily letter from his business man
ager in the city, that, after reading thai
epistle. he turned TO the opening of th,
other envelopes with no expectation o
finding anything more interesting thar
Acifcular. or a statement of some local
market. His surprise and interest were
therefore considerable when he opened
the following letter:
MY DEAR RANKIN--To day for the
first tinie in fifteen years have heard
OF YOU. / learn that you have passed
your summers for the last few years in a
secluded little village-a paradise Of
quietness, called Berkton. / also hear
that in your little hamlet there is a
church but no minister. My friend,
when VIC were chums," you could not
believe that / would ever be solemn
enough to become a preacher. But a
preacher am, although at present with
out charge. have been offered po-
sition in your city, with large salary.
For a certain reason, which / shall not
mention, cannot accept the offer. /
desire to labor in the Masters service as
long as live, but l am compelled to
work in some quiet section of his field.
May / ask you to present my name as
that of a candidate for the vacant pull
pit in your neighborhoodp Sincerely
yours, JOHN RAYMOND.
1t is doubtful If there had been for
years in the feelings of George Rankin
40 n 9ee1n rfclf no
there was during, and TOR some time
after. the reading of that letter.
So he really became a minister, !"
said he, to himself, as lie folded up the
letter AID put 1t in his pocket. For an
hour he forgot to turn to his paper, the
memories of those college days was all
at once so absorbing.
There was very little that Rankin
knew about Raymond, though for year
at college, IL so happened the two had
shared room; they were very good
friends, though by no means very inti-
mate. They were unlike in many re-
spects. The former cared little for
society; the latter was looE ed upon,
even then, as quite society man. Ray
mond's father was dead. His last re-
quest was that his son become, like
him, a minister. Soon after his father
died, lehving barely property enough to
support his mother and educate him,
young Raymond came into possession
of considerable wealth, by the decease OF
an uncle. From that time he was to
crafty his taste for elegant attire, pic
lures and books; and TO keep a team.
Though possessing many good qualities,
Rankin could remember bat one thing
in the life of his schoolmate that seemed
positively religious, aud that was bis
invariable custom of Offering a morning
and evening prayer. A silent prayer,
and not unfrequently when offering II
was he a long while on his knees. This
apparently sincere act of devotion made
some impression upon Rankin, but less
than it might have done perhaps if Other
alleged acts in Raymond's life had not
seemed 50 strangely Inconsistent with it
II certain Impressions that prevailed
among cOllegians at that time were cor
rect, his course of life in one respect, II
particular, was altogether Inconsistent
with such life as that solemn practicl
implied he led. But as has been said
there was very little that Rankin reall,
knew about his roommate. He him
self had discovered no vice in him; anC
their friendship was not of the kind tina
led them to make confessions to eacl
other. Yet he had come to think tina
the opinion which existed TO some ex
tent, that in the fashionable circles
which Raymond frequented, he wa