Clarke courier. [volume] (Berryville, Va.) 1869-1997, 1903-11-11
Author Of
The Man From CIsn1.r
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gazed searchingly into the Pilots face.
! was glad IL was not into mine. As
she uttered the words. Are You ouite
sure 2 one felt that things were in the
balance. | could not help looking at
the Pilot with intense anxiety. What
would he answer? The Pilot gazed ont
Of the window upon the hills for n few
moments-how long the silence SEEM
ed.-then. turning. looked into the eyes
that searched his so steadily and an
swered simply:
Yes, Gwen, am quite surew Then.
with quick inspiration. he got her
mothers Bible and said. Now, Gwen.
try TO see It as / read" But before he
read. with the true artists instinct he
created the proper atmosphere. BY a
few vivid words he made us feel the
pathetic loneliness Of the Man of Sor-
rows in his last sad days. Then he
read that masterpiece OF all tragic pic
turing. the story OF Gethsemane. And
as he read we saw It all-the garden
and the trees and the sorrow stricken
Man alone with his mysterious agony.
We heard the prayer so patheticalIy
submissive, and then. for answer. the
rabble and the traitor
Gwen was far too quick to need ex-
PLANTATION. and the Pilot only said. You
see, Gwen. God gave nothing but the
hest-to his own Son only the best"
THE best? They took him away.
didn't they She knew the story well.
Eyes. but listen" He turned the
leaves rapidly and read: 1--WE sec
Jesus for the suffering OF death crown
ed with glory and honor That is how
he got his kingdom"
Gwen listened silent. but unconvinced.
and then said slowly:
But how can this be best for me? I
am no use to any one. II can't be best
10 just lie here and make them all wait
on me, and-and-I did want 70 help
daddy-and-oh-I know they will get
tired Of met They are getting tired al
ready. I-I--can't help being hateful"
She was by this time sobbing as I
had never heard her before-deep. pas
sionate sobs. Then again the Pilot had
an inspiration.
Now, Gwen" he said severely. "you
know We're not as mean as that and
that you are just talking nonsense. ev-
cry word. Now I'm going 10 smooth
out your red hair and tell you n story"
ITS not red" she cried. between her
sobs. This was her sore point
"It is red. as red as can be; n beau
tiful. shining purple red" said the Pilot
emphatically. beginning 70 brush.
"Purplew cried Gwen scornfully.
YVES. I've seen it in the sun. purple.
Haven't you?" said the Pilot appealing
10 me. And my story is about the can
yon. our canyon. your canyon. down
there"
lis It trueg' asked Gwen, already
soothed by the cool. quick moving
hands.
'True? It's as true as-as''-he
glanced around the room-"as the Pill
grim's Progress" This was satisfac-
tory, and the story went on.
AT first there were no canyons. but
only the broad, open prairie. One day
the master OF the prairie. walking out
over his great lawns, where were only
grasses, asked the prairie. Where are
your flowersT and the prairie said.
Master, l have no seeds Then he
spoke to the birds. and they carried
seeds of every kind OF flower and
strewed them far and wide, and soon
the prairie bloomed with cr0cuses
and roses and buffalo beans and the
yellow crowfoot and the wild sunfiow-
ers and the red lilies all the summer
long.
Then the master came and was we'll
pleased, but he missed the flowers he
loved best OF all. and he said to the
prairie, Where are the clematis and
the columbine, the sweet violets and
wind flowers, and all the ferns and
Towering shrubsT And again he spoke
10 the birds, and again they carried all
the seeds and strewed them far and
wide. But, again, when the master
came, he could not find the flowers he
loved best of all, and he said. Where
are those, my sweetest iowersT and
the prairie cried sorrowfully, oh, mas
ter, 1 cannot keep the flowers. for the
winds sweep fiercely and the sun beats
upon my breast. and they wither up
and fly away
Then the master spoke to the light
ming, and with one swift blow the
lightning cleft the prairie TO the heart
And the prairie rocked and groaned in
terly over its black, jagged. gaping
wound. But the Little Swan poured
its waters through the cleft and car
ried down deep black mold, and once
more the birds carried seeds and
strewed them in the canyon. And aft
er long time the rough rocks were
decked out with soft MOSES and trail
ing vines, and all the hooks were hung
with clematis and columbine, and great
elms lifted their huge tops high up into
the sunlight, and down about their feet
clustered the low cedars and balsams,
and everywhere the violets and wind
flowers and maiden hair grew and
bloomed, till the canyon became the
masters place for rest and peace and
joy"
The quaint tale was ended. and Gwen
lay quiet for some moments, then said
gently:
yes. The canyon flowers are much
the best. Tell ME what it means"
Then the Pilot read to her: "Thc
fruitS-I'll read 'fiowers'-of the Spirit
are love. joy. peace, long suffering, gen
tleness. goodness. faith. meekness, self
control, and some of these grow only
in the canyon"
(Which are the canyon fiowers?" ask
ell Gwen softly. and the Pilot answered:
'GentleneSs, meekness, self control;
but, though the others-love, JOY, peace
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