The record-union., 1897-08-02

ment Having finished, he sat silently
eXpectant of a reply.
! The curate hesitated before speak
| ing. He began to perceive that he
! was face to face with a great force,
a man who knew his own mind, and
| did not change it; man stiffened with
! the tremendous backing Of steady belief
in the faith of eighteen hundred years;
man who thought his own thoughts,
| formed his own opinions, and went on
his way as the slow, silent glacier adj
vances, carrying with it all that would
! bar its course. Of such were the men
who founded the empire; of such were
the men who kept it; and if ever we
cease to breed these men, we shall
| cease to hold the land and the liberty
which they kept and won.
You might be right said the curate
| after a moment. Il feel a little be-
wildered myself at times. AS regards
this matter of the funeral it will be as
you WISH
I'D like to pay what'n be owing
and the Man from Stalybridge pulled
out a handful of silver mixed with a
little gold.
ooh, the undertaken will see to that
| NAY, I'll see to it myself. Whatll
| it be?"
The senior curate named sum. He
was feeling quite helpless. The mon
ey was laid in little head on the ia
| bic, and the visitor rose to go.
II hope 1 shall see you again" said
| the curate hastily. Il have a class of
men every Saturday. Or would you
come alone? l suppose you belong to
this placer"
I'm a Stalybridge chap, but I'm
working here
! Yes? I should be glad to see you.
| Or l would come to you if you pre-
fer it. Perhaps I might see things in
other lights-life, mean. 1 find diff
Guilty in talking to people-in smooth
! ing their last hours, or their daily path
L do not always understand their feel
| ings-''
| He stopped. Somehow he was shaken
| out of himself, out of his usual habits
of thought. The grave brown eyes sur
veyed him, calmly observant
Il dunnot think as L could teach thee
| owt, pason. A mon mum see WI his
own eyes,
Other eyes may help sometimes. I
| am confronted by life and death, and
/ they are terrible things
Nay, parson, not death. That's nowt
to worry Ger IT'S life that frightens
| folk. Good meet"
| He went down the steps into the sleet-
whitened street where furnace glare and
chimneys cast long black shadows, and
] the curate stood looking after him. At
| the gate he paused and turned back.
/ ''Parson," he said, its fire an food us
| folks need most. Yo' Gamma drive tn en-
CINE wiout coal an water"
Did she need fire and food?" asked
the curate remorsely, some strange in
stinct telling him that the remark was
associated with the dead woman. But
the other did not answer the question.
He merely repeated Good meet" and
walked away.
There was only one mourner at the
funeral, The Man from Stalybridge. But
the sleet and snow had melted. and
though the wind was cold, the sun shone
brightly on the purple pail and the white
robes of the choristers, and the solitary
1nourner seemed gravely content. He
waited till the grave was filled up, and
| then went slowly away. No one spoke
to him. The senior curate was feeling
a little ashamed of his own outburst of
feeling on the night of the plate-layer's
visit. 1t was rather a relief to escape
from the steady glance of those deep
eyes. Besides, there were several trif-
ling matters to attend to before the