Morris tribune., 1902-07-12


used to make U.s."
He spoke cheerfulIy and readily, as i:
ne were repeating a lesson well learn
ed, but he could not humbug me.
felt the heartache in the cheerful tone.
Tell me about her" l said, for
knew that if he would talk it would dc
him good, and talk he did, often forget
ting me, till, as | listened, found my
self looking again into the fathomless
| eyes and hearing again the heart
searching voice. / saw her go in and
out of the little red tiled cottages and
| down the narrow back lanes of the vii
lage; heard her voice in a sweet, low
song by the bed of a dying child or
pouring forth floods Of music in the
/ great new hall of the factory town
| near by, but I could not see, though
he tried to show me, the stately, gra-
cious lady receiving the country folk
in her home. He did not linger over
that scene, but went back again to tie
gate cottage where she had taken him
one day to see Billy Breen's mother,
Il found the old woman knew all
about me-" he said simply enough, ''but
there were many things about Billy
she had never heard, and I was glad
to put her right on some points, though
Mrs. Mavor would not hear it,"
He sat silent for a little, looking into
the Goals, then went on in soft, quiet
voice:
ut brought back the mountains and
the old days to hear again Billy's tones
in his mothers voice and to see her
sitting there in the very dress she wore
the night of the league, you remember
some soft stuff with black lace about
At-and to hear her sing as she did for
Billy. All! Ah"'
His voice unexpectedly broke. but in
a moment he was master OF himself
and begged re to forgive his weak
ness. I am afraid I said words that
should not be sad, q thing l never 10
except when suddenly and utterly up
set.
u am getting selfish and weak" he
said. Il must get to work. I am glad
to set to work. There is much to Do,
and it is worth while, if only to keep
one from getting useless and lazy
useless and lazy" I SAID to myself
thinking of ny life beside his and try
ing to get command Of my voice, SO as
not to make quite a fool Of myself,
and for many a day those words goad-
ed me to work and to the exercise of
some mild self denial But more than
all else after Craig had gone back to
the mountains Graemes letters from
the railway construction camp stirred
one to dc unpleasant duty long post
poned and rendered Uncomfortable my
hours Of most luxurious ease. Many
Of the old gang were with him, both
of lumbermen and miners, and Craig
was their minister, and the letters told
Of how he labored by day and by night
along the line of construction, carry
ing his tent and kit with him, preach
ing straight sermons, watching by sick |
men, writing their letters and winning |
their hearts, making strong their lives |
and helping them to die well when !
their hour came. >qsa,@~
One day these letters proved too !
much for me, and l packed away my |
paints and brushes and made my VOW |
unto the Lord that would be "usCless !
and lazy no longer, but would do |
with myself. In consequence |
found myself within three weeks |
walking the London hospitals, finishing |
my course. that I might join that band |
Of men who were doing something with |
life or, if throwing it away, were not |
losing it for nothing. l had finished |
being a fool, l hoped, at least a fool of |
the useless and luxurious kind. The
letter that came from Graeme in reply |
to my request for a position on his staff
was characteristic Of the man, both
new and old, full of gayest humor and
Of most earnest welcome to the work.
Mrs MAYORS reply was like herself:
! knew you would not long be content
with the making of pictures, which the
world does not really need, and would join
your friends in the dear west, making
lives that the world needs so sorely.
But her last words touched me
strangely:
But be sure to be thankful every day
for your privilege. "** 1t will be good to
think of you all, with the glorious noun
tains about you and Chrst's own work in
your hands. So 8 All, how we would like
to choose our work and the place in which
to do it.
The longing did not appear in the
words, but l needed no words to tell
me how deep and how constant it was,
and take some credit to myself that
in my reply l gave her no bidding to
Join our band, but rather praised the
work she was doing in her place, tell
ing her how l had heard Of it from
Craig.
The summer found me religiously do
ng Paris and Vienna, gaining more
perfect acquaintance with the extent
md variety Of my own ignorance, and
70 fully occupied in this interesting and
wholesome occupation that fell out
With all my correspondents, with the
'esult of weeks of silence between us.
Two letters among the heap waiting
IN my table in London made my heart
peat quick, but with how different feel
Ill