Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1901-07-17
'ass ..i'.s-: 3s-s.1H'a.
THE PATH Z
TO PERDlTION
BY LOUIS VINCENT
DE FOE.
Copyright, 1901, by Louis Vincent De Foe,

Mrs. Birdsell was fairly struck dumb
before her husbands awful denuncia-
ton. 1t was the first time in her mar
ried life that he had so ruthlessly
broken the third commandment, and
she laid herself down to broken sleep
and troubled dreams.
The first CLEAN of the rising sun was
already painting gold and purple hues
in the eastern sky when the deacon
slowly reused to the troubles of a new
day. Quickly throwing on his working
clothes, he fastened to the foot of the
stairs.
"Joel," he called to the upper cham
Der. "Joel, be stirrini The suns more'n
an hour high. We've oversight scan
d'lous!'
No answer came from above.
'Joelv This time there was an an
CRY ring in the word.
And still no answer.
The deacon did not call again, but
started briskly for the stables, his
heavy boot heels making dark half
circles in the light frost that covered
the ground. He was surprised again
to find the heavy doors thrown wide
open to the morning breezes. Sounds
We're issuing from within. and as he
paused he heard his brother Joel's
voice lifted in song, the rhythm punctu-
ated by the steady Swish" of milk
against the bottom and sides of the
tin milk can.
The absolute unexpectedness of the
situation CAUSED the deacon to hesitate
in doubt a moment on the threshold.
Bending slightly forward and listening
attentively, he managed to catch the
words:
Bet my money on the old bay mare,
Somebody bet on the gray.
The doggerel had only one meaning
to the deacon. 1t was a shameless de-
tense of horse racing, an unholy pas
time into which he had gained some in-
sight through the innocent medium of
country fairs.
"A1ornin, Williamg' The greeting
was fresh and cheery-surely not spo-
ken with the languor that is supposed
to follow a night of debauchery. Guess
you kind of overslep'. Must be you an
mother kept late hours"
There's one way you might Of know
ed how late hours mother an me kept"
The deacon's answer bristled with
harsh insinuation, but 1t was all lost
on the erring one. Whistling softly
to himself, he picked up the milk pals
again and started for the house, while
the deacon, mystified and angered,
clambered up the perpendicular ladder
to the hayloft. He threw down a
generous quantity Of sweet smelling
clover to the neighing, impatient
horses below and then leaned medi-
tatively upon the fork handle to ar
range in his mind the admonitory talk
which he was more certain than ever
alone interviewed between his brother
and irredeemable damnation.
The morning meal in the little farm
house was not as comfortable us usual,
particularly for the farmer and his
wife. 1t might have been noticed that
the deacon fingered long and fervently
over the thanks which he invariably
offered up from his board. 1t might
have been noticed also that appended
to those feryent thanks was an earnest
supplication that Divine Providence in
his all seeing wisdom might not judge
harshly the weaknesses of his erring
children, all of which was lost on Joel,
inasmuch as it was well known to be
q part of the deacon's religious philos-
ophy to regard all earthly beings as
weak and sinful in the eyes of the
Lord. AS for the deacon. he was sur
\ prised to note that Joel's appetite
seemed even better than usual.
| The meal finished. Mrs. Birdsell arose
and from force of habit began to clear
away the dishes.
"Joel," the deacon said trying to ap-
pear natural and ut ease, although in
| spite Of himself there was threaten.
Ing ring in his voice, "supposin you
walk down to the barn with me for q
moment. I've got somethin I'd like to
talk over with you this mornin."
Joel had picked up his hat and had
started toward the door. Better put
it off till dinner time, William" he re.
piled carelessly. 'I'm IN hour late
now gettin to the creamery, an
"Then the creamery can wait! 1 want
you should do what say! D'yor
hear?'
"All right, then; must be somethir
terrible pressin. What's on your mind 2
Joel detected stern look on his broth
er's face and sensibly concluded that
argument was waste of time.
The deacon did not wait to make fur
ther reply, but started out of the house
motioning for his brother to follow him
Silently leading the way, he sought the
seclusion of the storeroom, where 8
nondescript collection of sleighs ant
bobsleds stood, covered and festoonet
with summers accumulation of dust
and cobwebs. The silence of the place
was impressive, and in its selection the
n ~