The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1901-07-13
THE MAI

W. 1AN cA~NNt 90AQ oQAAAC
pher. ARE common and Inevitable to all liv-
ing things-the birth by which they enter
life and the death by which they leave it,"
sixty-two years before. James livingstone
had experienced the former of the two in
evitables; now he lay at the unquestioned
mercy Of the latter. 1t was a luxurious
chamber in which he awaited the advent of
the grim messenger. Everything bespoke af-
fuance, nor bespoke it fallaciously. For
James livingstone was a man of large
wealth, whose fortune. If report were true.
we'll exceeded the million. Almost every
penny of this pile he had amassed himself.
Others who had essayed the path of bold
speculation. as he had done. but, unlike
hin. had failed to find success, regarded
him with envy. some even with malevo-
lence. They threw out dark hints about
the dubious methods to which he had often
had recourse, and insinuated that others
less INSCRIPTIONS, though less successful
than he, had ere now landed themselves
IN Newgate.. Perhaps there was little credit
to be attached to these insinuations. Per-
haps. it is so often the case under such
circumstances their sole foundation rest
ed on the spiteful and jealous fancies of
those who made them. Anyhow, true or
" IN NCAhiNb VI AAo Ink NAANANS AAoN
tered very little to him now. The one mo-
mentous question was what would be the
judgment of the Supreme Arbiter.
His son-his only child-a young man
of about twenty-five. sat by his fathers
bedside. The keenest solicitude, the deepest
distress. was written in every line of his
face as he watched the dying man. Evil
IDENTIFY he was making a great effort TO COM
pose himself-to repress outward manifesto
ton of grief; but with no great success. 1t
needed little penetration to see that his
character was of the emotional order-of
that order which is highly susceptible to the
impressions and surroundings of the mo-
ment, and which therefore finds self-control
a difficult task. AS he sat and watched
there anne a soft rap at the door. A nurse
who was in the room went on tip-toe and
opened 1T, conversing in inaudible whispers
with some one outside. After a minute she
came back TO where young livingstone sat
and said to him in a low voice:
1T is Father Rawston. He wishes to
know if your father would like to see him"
The young man nodded. A look of salts
faction crossed his grief-stricken face. He
bent over the dying man:
Father, would you like to see Father
Rawston? He has just come"
The other made a faint gesture of assent.
And young livingstone. moving toward
the door, beckoned Father Rawston to en-
ter.
The newcomer was a middle-aged man
with iron gray hair closely cropped and
an expression of grave composure upon his
clean-shaven face. 1t was a strong, an
able. a determined face-a face that be-
tokened a clear brain. an unfinching will
and a settled resoluteness of purpose that
nothing could turn aside. From his dress
and demeanor strangers would probably
have supposed him a Roman Catholic
priest. And a priest he was. but not Of the
Romish Church. He was an extreme men,
Der of that extreme party in the Church
of England which has gone so far on the
road to Rome that many feel surprise at
their not having completed the journey.
Father RawstOn had been now for some
years incumbent of a well-known ritualist
church In the East End of London. From
energy and personality had made them
selves felt. Indeed. the influence which he
exercised over almost all those with whom
he came in contact was quite remarkable.
Clergymen and laymen, workingmen and
gentlemen-pardon the conventional dis
%tinction, for which custom and not 1 must
bear the blame-found themselves equally
dominated by Father kawston. James
livingstone had first met him at a lads
club in Poplar. toward the funds of which
the millionaire had been a handsome sub
scrfber- He was at once attracted by the
priest and a friendship was quickly estab-
lished. This soon ripened into intimacy,
and before many months went out Father
Rawston came and went in Eaton square,
where livingstone lived, exactly as he
pleased.
The fathers heart was entirely in his
work, in which he soon succeeded in in
teresting livingstone, and that the latter
showed his interest in the most practical
way was abundantly evidenced by his
bank book. Did the father want fifty. a
hundred or even a thousand pounds for
any of the numerous philanthropic schemes
and institutions with which he was con-
nected he had merely to ask livingstone
and Jillingstone drew him a check.
All! If only all rich men recognized their
obligations as you do what changed places
would these London slums become" Father
Rawston had said TO him one day.
1t was very noticeable how the devotee's
eyes blazed with keen enthusiasm as he
said those words; how his whole face
glowed with a radiant and eager light.
Z uI, Gipon my word d,i father replied James
soul and life are bound up in the welfare
of these poor people"
They are Gods poor. My work among
them is Gods work. was the earnest
answer. THE welfare of their souls and
bodies is peculiarly the work of Gods
church. For-l speak in no spirit of sec
tartan rancor-if such work is to have the
Almightys blessing. without which true
success is impossible. it must be blended
} with the teaching and the authority of His
You are no believer, then. in undenomi
national philanthropy" said livingstone.
Father Rawston regarded him keenly
almost fiercely, with his searching eyes.
INSTRUMENTATION philanthropy" he ex
claimed. mo! A thousand times no. Tha,
so-called liberal spirit of the age, which
views all creeds and tenets indifferently
considering one as good as the other. anC
academic importance-which treats ever
Christianity itself as merely an arguabl,
opinion-that spirit, / tell you. will not. anC
IT. the nature OF things cannot ever do any
thing to really elevate man. Mo- In every
human soul | believe, deep down out OF
sight. often. indeed, unconsciously pos
sessed, there exists a hungry yearning fol
something sure-something certain-som'
rock wherein to build an abiding home and
be at rest. If, never having found that rocl
myself. | cannot disclose IL TO my fellows
if | have nothing better to offer them thar
pious opinions. l am like one who throw:
little bits Of mathwood to drowning men,
like one who distributes sweetmeants Il
those who starve for bread. But he cried
his face glowing, thank God | have founc
that rock. Thank God, l can disclose ii Il
others-the strong. the staple, the abiding
rock Of Holy Church"
The fathers face, usually so composed
was lit up as he spoke by an evident anC
intense enthusiasm, and James livingston
could not help being impressed by tn,
meanor. although he was far from agree
ing with his point OF view.
u envy you the comfort Of so happy Z
state of mind. father he said with a sigh
1T is a comfort which / trust may soon, b,
yours" replied Father Rawston, suddenl,
relapsing into his usual state of grave self
repression.