Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1896-07-30

with n freedom they never had fancied,
they straightway wondered at all these
allegations. And how, indeed, does a
brisk turn under tho sky, and between
the fields, drive away cobwebby no.
tions. In the old days canter might
do it, but horse is luxury, and,
even if you can afford it is ever get.
ting out of condition, and to be fit
must have a modicum of constant ex-
ercisc. But now all go a-spinning, the
horseman as we'll as the onetime long
distance walkers, the sinners,s and
those who strive to regain this old
world from the curse.
Among these latter, no one is better
equipped for the ancient fight than the
rector of Saint Matthew-in the Park,
the Rev. Lemuel Springer. With
body and mind nttuned to fine
healthfulness, at thirty, he believes
strongly, and breaches and acts his
belief, and in these days when clergy
men sometimes forget that their duty
| is but to heal the hearts wounds, and
to preach the reward OF simple hon
esty and cleanly living, it is delight
to sit of morning in q pew of Saint
Matthew-in the Park and listen to the
direct and human religion its athlec-
tic young rector expounds. /, myself,
remember him when he was No. 3 on
the Varsity crew, and very great
man. He still could pull that third
oar as strongly, but the only sport his
duties now permit him is wheeling,
and if you go to the park of morn
ing you may see him going up and
down hill and doubtless meditating
those words for the soul cheer afforded
by his bits of sermonlzing, put always
in English tersely strong.
And yet he has all his troubles, his
experiences, his questionings, his sin,
his falsity, and if you will follow my
story, you will SEQ how it was all due
to the wheel that he once forgot him
self.
OF May day the Rev. Lemuel was
coasting down the long hill into the
struggling village of Roundbush,
Westchester. 1t was his day OF
outing, and now at noon he was
hungry after twenty milo exhilar.
ating spin; and the world had put
its care away, and his blood was
tingling and his heart singing like
the birds in the fields and the treetops
through the windy blue spaces of
that sunny spring-day sky. The old
tavern at Roundbush bears on creak.
ing sign distorted likeness of our
first great President, and after long
years of desuetude again has found
usefulness through the revival of the
road, and haunts noon placard !:
'Lun ches for Bicyclers." Yet this
afternoon the Reverend Lemuel
thought that he had it quite to him.
self, as the fat landlord pushed his
shirtsleeves further above his brawny
elbows aud said he guessed he could
give his visitor "somethin that was
fit eatin'." And Lemuel-I will drop
his title thought the broiled chicken
delicious and sauntered into the par
lor, dark after the sunshine, with its
haircloth chairs and its colored prints
of Washington Crossing the Della.
ware" and "John Browns Capture" "
and certain photographs of prim rural
folk.
Now, usually. Lemuel was most OBJ.
serving. Yet he had been in that
room fully i've minutes before he no.
ticed q figure stretched out on a
couch; at the dark side, to be sure, so
that it may not have been so strange
that he had not seen her at first. Her
face sunk in a pillow, she seemed to be
sobbing. Lemuel at once made for
the door, when he heard sweet and
strangely plaintive voice:
"I'm such fool Oh, I beg your
pardon |" she added, with such evident
confusion that Lemuel turned about
hastily to see the prettiest figure of a
woman in wltching bicycle costume
! ard what she was like I'll leave you to
fancy; just fancy, that is, the very