The Worthington advance., 1882-07-27

| special sermon to-day, but she came IN
late, and when lie arose to announce his
text he felt that thrilling presence gen.
Grated by large and attentive audience.
% the powsr ess Of OFF, speaking zeal E b between fSnr
| eyes. lis speecf, would thunder and
tighten at will, and when at his best,
the emotions Of his hearers were under
his control. lie had never done a better
Sabbatll's work. The faces ofthose before
| him were wet with tears at his appeals.
But now, as he walked along the vii
lage street IN the teeth of the wind, it
counted for nothing. It was not Indian
simmer to-day. The leaves, flying in
ecstacy, filed the mnrky mir. The walk
was full of the wet, sodden mass. The
trees swung their skeleton limbs in
denoniac glee, and the wind howlea
like lost spirit in chains. What an
uncanny morning it was. The hills
grew gigantic in the cerements of
mist, and the houses seemed to have
sobbel themselves into hopeless grief.
John Hayes was saying to himself that
he had mistaken his calling, and he
wonld quit it. 1t was simply the re-
action from high nervous excitement.
lie neede;: 4 counter irritlnt to-, restore
the balance. He VAS going TO Deacon
Erink =, two miles ont Of the village
He liked to see the deacon Monday
morning. lie would lend a hand at Ills
| work often, and the deacon'S sharp.
curt remarks toned him up and set him
on his feet again. The good, man was a
quaint, humorous body, not as reveren-
tial as the cut and dried church elder,
but sound to the core and true as steel.
When the parson got i'll sight Of the
house, he saw the deacon running
toward the barn, his hat off and in his
shirt sleeves. He fastened his steps
| and then instinctively began to run. The
old man was putting in the mare, and she
seemed to be having one Of her evil fits.
"Deacon Josia, what is the matter?'
"Nfattie has fallen from one Of the
high beams, her head is cut open, and
she on't!"-here the good man
choked with emotion. "This critter has
got one of the balks, ought to have her
| neck wrnng."
Matte had been hunting eggs that
morning, the first time she had got back
from the seminary. 1t had been her
work when little girl, and she was ia
nous for walking the high beams. She
had forgotten this morning she had been
a stout girl. She had probably become
dizzy, and had fallen from the upper
loft, striking on the corner of a sharp
timber. There no signs oflife, and she
was bleeding prof,!sel y. John Hayes
forgot his "blues." There were two
miles between him and life. The .lea
cons mare, bulky as she was, must re-
the head, put his hand on her hose. He
had all electric touch. lie looked her
in the eye. "Nancy, YOU must do your
| duty to-day. Your mistress is dying"
and he clenchesl his teeth. He sprans
into the wagon. The horse had relaxed
his position ut his first word. and as he
touched the reins she sprang i'll the air.
How the blackboard ratified as she came
down and sped away. The deacon for
! got his grief even as he looked. The
road for IL mile was visible from the yard.
The racer strain of blood ruled that morn
ing. The parson braced his feetand hung
to the ribbons until they cut into his
hands. lie had been the strongest OF
men in his class-in college, but they
ached as if they would fall from their
Stacked; she took the middle Of the road
and she kept it, although two teams
barely escaped as she flew by. The foam
was Oh her nostrils and her eyes opened.
What glorions old sinner she was,
thought the dominic. He loved horse
and terrible as was the possibility with
that bleeding form behind him, he ad-
mired the splendid beast She was re-
trieving her reputation. Tie veins stood
out on her beautiful neck, but her wind
was still good and the village was near.
Short as the time had been, it seemed
like an age. Every heartbeat to the.
young man was like a knell. Ills bleed
ing hands he knew nothing about. As
he reached the doctors door he looked
at his watch. He had been nine mill
.is 1,s' two an" miles. We'll 1''f dode in Sa%eyg S,Sing
| "What is the matter with yonr hands,
Mr.; liayes??'"' asked the doctor, as he
rushed to the door. "Nothiny, nothing y
Miss Matte is dying. She has fallen.
Come And he tnrned again, and Dea-
con Frink's mare struck her old trot
| without long breath. "Great Cesar, -
said the dOrtor as he bundled lis cast.
! INTO his gig and struck after him; "what
| has got into Deacon Trink's mare? Has
| the parson got the devil himself behind
| lt?' The doctor had a famous horse, but
lie said afterwar!, that body might as
well follow Chain lightning as to keep up
with that balky mare when the minister
| drove her"
! The doctor found his patient with
| st"tFcely any pulse; jnst Ha,tter about
The heart which would have stopped in
five minutes more, he said xravely, when
the tide Of life came back and he had
gwen hope for recovery, and they got
Matte in bed. After he had done ali
he could for her the proSaic old physi-
cian went out to his stable and petted the
mare and rubbed her face while she
winned and pushed him about with her
cold nose. The old doctors eyes were
actually red when he came out of the
! barn.
Thanks to the blessed mare, Matte
Frink recovered, but it was coming from
the grave, the horse never baked again,
The story of that ride spread like wild
fire, and the deacon was offered a thou
sand dollars for her, but he said, che
had given her to his daughter, and it
required parson to drive her"
! One June day when the earth was
fresh in new apparel, and the blue dome
hung above an enchanted world. John
Hayes and Matte Frink took the mare
with her new harness and carriage and
rode over to a neighboring town. The
old gray-haired clergyman pronounced
them one, but long before that, in the
shadow of death they were welded in
heart.
| "Bleakmere Manse."
| De Long and Nle1vil1e,s C;rars