The farmer and mechanic. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 18??-19??, 1898-01-25

glowing. joyous picture could oay dim
~ snrmiSe. He went on:
when ii was all over arG | went out
into the open air. | did rot see the sun
light. | carried the dusk - the theatcr
with me, and the gloom Of Gol@otha
brooded over the sunny afternoon. /
heard the nails driven in. | saw the
blood squirting from the wounds; there
was realism in the thing. , tell ycu.
The peasants, accuStom- IL the painful
story, had quickly recovered their
gayety. and were pouring boisterouSly
down the hillside like a glad, Turbulent
mountain-stream Embossed from the dead
hand of frost. But | was still ~ice-hound
and fog-wrapped. Outside the GastlaTs
where | went to dine, gay groups ASSEM-
bled. an organ played, some stroIlng
Italian girls danced gracefully, II my
artistic self was aware Of il W1rmth
and a rush. But the inmD5t me was
neck-dcep in gloom. with which the
terribly pounded steak they gave me,
fruudulently ovcrlaid With two snowy
fried eggs. seemed only i'll kepeing. st.
John came in. the Christ, and the schoo.
mastcr-wh had conducted ta2 choir
and the thick tenor, and som" SGperS:
and | congratulated them one and all
with Il gloomy sense of dishonesty.
When, as evening fell, | walked home
with St. John, | was gloomily CAD to
find the valley s%hrouded in mist and Il
StarlcSS heaven sagging over 4 blank
earth. 1t seemed an endless uphill
drag to my lodging. and though my bed
room was unexpectedly dainty. and Il
dear old woman-St. Johns mother
mctaphoriCally tucked me in, | slept i'll
that night. FGrlnleSS dreams tortured
me with impalpable tragedies and APP
prchensions Of horror. In the morning,
after Il cold s~ponging, the oppression
lifted Il little from my spirit, though the
weather still seemed rather gray. st.
John had already gone off to his field
work. MS mother told me. She WAS so
lovely. and the room in which | ate
breakfast SO neat and demure with its
whitewashed walls. pure and stainless
like country snow, that | managed to
swallow everything hut the coffee. Oh.
that coffee, | had to nibble at a bit Of
chocolate | carried, to get the taste Of
it out of my mouth. | tried hard not to
let the blues get the upper hand again.
| filled my pipe, and pulled out my
Skctch-hoOk. My notes of yesterday
seemed 50 faint and the morning grow
ing 50 dark. that | could scarcely see
them. | thought | would go and sit on
The little bench outside. AS | was saun-
tering through the doorway. my head
bending broodingly over the sketch
book. like this. | caught sight out Of the
corner Of my eye of 81 little white match
stand fixed upon the wall. Mechanically
| put out my left hand to take Il light
for my pipe. \ queer cold WetneSs in
my fingers and Il nttle splash woke me
to the sense of some q mistake. and
in another instant | realized with horror
that | had dipped my fingers into holy
water and splashcd it over that neat.
dcmure. spotless. white-washcd WALL
! could not help smiling. All, [
know. one of those porcelain things
with Il crucified Savior over a little font.
Fancy taking heaven for brimStone.'
1T didn't seem the least bit funny at
the time. | just felt awful. What
would the dear old woman say to ibis
proclamation? WHY did people have white
washed walls on which sacrilegious
stains We're luridly visible? | looked up
and down the hall like Moses when he
slew that Egyptian. trembling lest the
old woman should come in. How could
| make her understand | was so ignor-
ant Of Christian custom as to mistake,
a font for a matchbox? And if [ said