Bennington semi-weekly banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 1894-1902, 1895-07-26
SEMI-WEEKLY BANNER, FRIDAY, JULY 26, 1895

leave MN unOlSGurDCu, silently closed tho
shutters outside the broken window and
| pinned closely over it the heavy curtains
of Mexican blankets. The room was both
sitting room and study. In the corner a
| pric dieu, with threadbare cushion, tes-
titled to the length and frequency of his
| devotiOns.
Presently Helen looked anxiously up
from the altar cloth she was cmbroidcring.
II wish you would no" watch me in
that covert manner" said her husband,
with new irritability.
He was tired Her womans heart child
her after that moment of strange and
chilled misgiving 1t was long, cold
walk to the settlement, and the people
there were the most degraded of his pas
toral charge. They consisted only Of old
men, women and children. The young
men were out hunting, euphcmism for
having joined certain hostile tribes in the
northwest.
II have questioned lately, Helen" he
began presently, "whether l have not, aft
er all, mistaken my vocation. The fire
has died out of my uttorances; my prayers
! no longer ascend rs on wings of light, but
fall crushingly back upon my heart. The
meaning has gone out of the Holy Scrip
ture. Its words are as "a tale told by an
idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying
nothing.
She spoke gentle, rcassuring words, and
the strange foreboding vanished from her
heart.
Long after she had gone to bed he was
kneeling at the prio dicu. In the days
that followed she noticed that he was un-
usually silent; that the early services, the
prayers and HASTINGS became more frequent
the last so rigorous that she begged him
to have care lest his health suffer.
I'VE arc commanded" he replied SOL
emily, 'to cruelty the old man and ut
terly abolish the whole body of sim "
He went about his work like a man in
dream. The melancholy that had always
characterized him had become mOodiness,
taciturnity that his wife learned was
best left unquestiOned. His favorite sub
Sects of conversation had formerly related
to his work. Now he never alluded to it.
His texts had been chosen from the New
Testament, that upon which he had most
frequently dwGlt being, "For their sakea 1
sanctify myself, that they also may be
sanctifcd through the truth" Now his
sermons were drawn from tho Old Testa-
ment and particularly from those accounts
that dwclt upon vengeance and bloodshGd.
When he read the lesson telling of the kill
ing of Siscra, there was II represscd force
III his uttcrance, AN intensity Of dramatic
action i'll the gestures Of his slender hand
and flexible wrist, that brought the scene
with awful vividncss before his listeners.
"Sho smotc the nail into his tomples
for he was fast Qslccp and weary. So he
died" His personality was merged into
that of Jacl, and GXaltasion was cXultation
over the trcachorous and savage decd.
His manner in speaking of his own peo-
pie had formerly been tingcd with sadness.
Was it wild fancy of his wifo's that it
now held subtle pride? A distinction,
too, had evidently grown up between
"thcso pcople''-of his nock-and those
among whom his childhood had been
passed.
His walks over the plain became more
frequent. Helen had supposed their object
was the settlement till an allusion to his
work there undccciyCd her. II have not
been there. l walked 20, 30 miles over tho
plain, he said, with an excitement that
all her efforts at restraint could not allow
to pass unnoticcd.
"Listen" and the words that followed
of my fathers" went on her husband
with solemn pride. Upon the vast empty
plain there was a sound from heaven as of
mighty rushing wind, and even as the
tongues were given to the disciples at the
day Of Pentecost was the language of tho
warriors given back to me. With such
words did my father speak when he told of
his great deeds in the council. My father
was great brave. He did not 1.-Two among
the women and children. He was not a
squaw man. He was Black Kcttle!'
Bewildered at this strange outburst,
Helen called beseechingly to her husband.
He made no reply. 1t was morning
when he arose from the prize dieu.
For the next few days. except for an al
most unbroken silence, he seemed more
like his former self. Late one afternoon
word was brought to Helen that woman
had been confined in the settlement and
was dying for lack Of food and clothing.
The circumstances appealed to her with
peculiar force, Filling basket with food
and hastily selecting such articles as secm-
ed most noedful, she set out on her lonely
walk.
The door Of the hut was ajar. The one
room was empty. In her charitable visit
ing in Boston a similar experience had
often confronted her, and now, as then, an
involuntary veXation arose at having been
made the dupe of her sympathics She
made her way to the next hut; but, to her
surprise, it, too, was empty. The village
was deserted
The last hut stood on the brow of an in
cline. In the hollow beyond was strange
sight
Shrinking back into the shadow of the
hut, petrified with horror, she stood watch
ing a circle of savage figures, men and
women alternating, holding one another
by the hand, revolving slowly around
large tree. A dirgelike chant filed the air
as round and round the dancers went in
the same direction, with eyes closed and
heads bent toward the ground. There
were young men in the circle. Had they
returned, then, from their hunting ex.
peditionY
Chained to the spot by the mystic spell
of the "ghost dance" her own body sway.
ed to and fro in unison with the dancers.