The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1898-01-23

show, and the real thing was that dead.
topsy-turVy world down there in the cold
gray lake under the reeking mists? l
sneaked back intosthe house to see if the
streak hadn't dried yet; but no, il doomed
in t~sll-tale ghastliness, a sort of writing
on the wall, announcing the wrath n
visitation of heaven. l went outside again,
and smoked miserably on the little bench.
Gradually l began TO feel warmer the
mists seemed clearing; l rose n
stretched myself with an ache of luXur-
ious languor. Encouraged. l stole within
again to peep at the streak. 1t was dry
a virgin wall innocently white met my
delighted gaze. 1 opened the window; the
dragging vaporS were still rising, rising,
the bleakness was merging in a mild
warmth. l refilled my pipe, and plunged
down the yet gray hill. l STROBE past the
old sawmill, skirted the swampy border
of the lake. came out on the firm green.
when. bling, ziml br-r-ri a heavenly bolt of
sunshine smashed through the raw mists,
scattering them Ek a bomb to the hori-
IONS rim; then with sovereign calm the
sun came out full. flooding hill and dale
with luminous joy; the lake
back a great white cloud island on a
stretch of glorous blue; and all that
COLDER warmth stole into my veins like
wine. \ little goat came Skipping along
with tinkling bell. a horse at grass threw
up its heels in ecstasy, an OK lowed, a
dog barked. Tears of exquisite emotion
warm light that lay over all the happy
valley seemed to get into them and melt
something. How unlike those tears of
yesterday. wrung out of me as by some
serpent coiled round my ribs, Now my
ribs seemed expanding-to hold my heart
and all the divine joy of existence
thrilled me to a religious rapture And,
with the lifting of the miStS, all that
CHASTITY medieval nightmare was lifted
from my soul; in that sacred moment all
the lurid tragedy of the crucified Christ
vanished, an donly Christ was left; the
simple fellowship with man and beast
/ and nature, the love of life, the love OF
love, the love of God. And in that yearn-
ing ecstasy my picture came TO me-The
Joyous Comrade. C~hrist-not the tortured
God, but the joyous comra0e, the friend
of all simple souls-the joyous comrade
with the children clinging to him and the
PEASANTS and fishers listening to his chat;
not the t%heologian spinning barren subtle
ties. but the man of genius, protesting
against all forms and dogmaS that would
ecstasy: not the Man of Sorrows, loving
the Darkness of underground cells and
scourged backs and seXless skeletons, but
the lover of life and warm sunlight and
all that is fresh and simple and pure and
beautiful"
Every man makes his God in his own
image l thought. too touched to jar him
by saying it aloud
And so, ever since. off and on. 1 have
worked at this human picture of him-The
Joyous C~omrade-to restore the true
Christ to the world"
(which you hope to convert?'
My usine is with work. not with re-
suits. Whatsoever thy hand findeth to
do, do it with thy might What can any
single hand, even the mightiest, do in
this great weltering world? Yet. without
the hope and the dream. who would work
at all? And so, not without hope, yet
with no expectancy of a miracle. / give
the Jews a Christ they can now accept,
the Christians a Christ they have forgot
ten. l rebuild for my beloved America a
type of simple manhood. unfretted by the
feverish lust for wealth and power: a
simple lover of the quiet moment: a sweet
human soul never dispossessed of itself,
always at one with the essence OF exist
ence. Who knows but l may suggest the
great question: What shall it profit a
nation to gain the whole world and lose
its own soul?"
His voice died away solemnly. and
1 heard only the click of the billiard
balls and the rumble and roar of New
York.