San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-02-11
1T - Nv HI-ILIZ-LZ-
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dyke; and one OF the pest pictures ne
ever painted, as l believe is agreed by
connoisseurs. You should have seen the
white horse, sir, in that picture-full of
gentleness and spirit, and worthy the
handsome cavalier just ready to mount
him."
As the old gentleman talked of his
heroic ancestor, a name not unknown to
history, he revived a little and l saw an
evanescent look of his daughters vigor
in rs eye. 1t faded instantly. He
| sighed and went on.
Il should almost have liked to live in
those days. 1t is easier to die for a holy
cause than to find ones way along
| through life. l have found it pretty
hard, sir-pretty hard-and l hope nv
day of peace is nearly come"
How could I shatter his delusion and
| thunder in his ear that this hope was a
lie?
81 had a happy time of it," he con
tinued, still after my Ellen's birth, and
I ought to be thankful for that. 1 had
my dear wife and hosts of friends-so l
thought them. To be sure l spent too
much money, and sometimes had rather
too gay an evening over the claret at my
old oak dining table. But That was
harmless pleasure, sir. l was always a
kind landlord. never could turn out a
tenant nor arrest a poacher. / suppose
I was too kind. l might better have
saved some Of the money l gave to my
people in beef and beer on holidays. But
it made them happy. l like to see every
body happy. That was my chief pleas
ure. The people were very poor in Eng
land then, sir-not that they are not poor
now-and l used to be very glad when a
good old English holiday or a birthday
gave me a chance to give them a little
festival"
I could imagine him the gentle, genial
host. Fate should have left him there in
the old nall, dispensing frank hospitality
all his sunny days and bland seasons
through, lunching young poets, and
showing his Vandykes with proper pride
to strangers. Ills story carried truth on
its face. In fact, the man was all the
while an illustration of his own tale.
Every tone and phrase convicted him of
his WI character.
SIT sometimes makes me a little mel
ancholy," he continued, ''to speak of
those happy days. Not that 1 regret the
result I have at last attained! All, no!
But the process was a hard one. l have
suffered, sir, suffered greatly on my way
to the peace and confidence l have at
tained."
"You have attained theseY' I said.
eyes; thank God and this Latter-day
revelation of his truth! / used to think
rather carelessly of religion in those
times. l suppose it is only the contact
with sin and sorrow that teaches a man
to look from the tranSitory to the eter-
nal. Shade makes light precious, as an
artist would say. l was brought mp, you
know, sir, in the Church of England, but
when l began to think its Journalism
wearied me. / could not understand
what seemed to me then the complex
machinery of it's theology. thought,
sir, as no doubt many people of the
poetic temperament and little experience
think, that God deals with men without
60 betweens; that he acts directly on the
character by the facts of nature and the
thoughts in every soul.
sit was not until l grew old and
sad that l began to feel the need
of something distinct and tangible
to rest my faith upon, and even
then, sir, l was skeptical of the
need of revelations and Messiahs
and miracles, until 1 learned through
the testimony of living Witnesses
yes, of living witnesses-that such
things have come in the Latter-day.
Yes, sir, the facts of what you call Nor
monism,, its miracles, its revelations.
which do not cease, and its new Mes
siah, have proved to me the necessity of
other like supernatural systems in the
past and given me faith in their evil
dences, which before seemed scanty."
s'Ahl old Mother Church of England!'
I thought, could you do no better by
your son than this? Whose fault is this
credulity? How is it that he needs phe-
nomena to give him faith in TRUTH
"But l have not told you" the old
! gentleman went on, "about my disas.
tiers. Perhaps you are getting tired of
my prattle, sir-my old mans talk. j
am really not so very old, if my hair is
thin and my beard g~ray-barely fifty,
and after this journey l expect to be
quite a boy again. 1 suppose you were