The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1903-05-12

hS ioSt hotSS VI the voluntary Qled
away in whisper. For moment the
restless congregation was hushed.
Only the muf1ed roar of the stamp
mills on the opposite side of the
gulch broke the silence with its mon
otonous reminder of something dearer
than day of rest. Through the open
windows of the church came the odor
OF pines and the damp sweet fresh
ness of spring. A small boy looked
wistfully out and thought of the cro-
cuses blooming under the rocks on
the hillside. A young girl, with her
eyes on her prayer book, let her fancy
stray to winding mountain road, and
a young mining expert driving alone.
Into the waiting stiffness of the
church floated the first faint, sweet
strains of the professional, but above
them clear and shrill rang the notes
OF popular tune a man was whistling
in the street. Following the glitter
ing cross down the aisle came the
vested choir, led by the thin, shrill
treble of the little children. In the
rear walked the soloists, marking the
words of the hymn with dumb moving
lips to save their voices. One of
these was stranger; the other, in
spite of dar.i rumors concerning his
fitness to wear surplice, was the
favorite at st. Johns. He could sing
like an angel If he didn't live like
one. His handsome, dissipated face,
brought out in sharp contrast the
pure, almost spiritual beauty of the
new tenor.
AS the singers filed into their places
and the belated worshipers who had
been detained in the vestibule hurried
TO their pews, striking looking wom-
an followed the usher down the
aisle to seat. The people in the pew
crowded closer together to make
room for her, and some one handed
her a prayer book. No one noticed
her again until her voice rang out on
the chant. Then the people turned to
look at her. None of the women knew
her; most of the men did.
"The psalter for the third day of
the month morning prayer" read the
rector in his deep, melodious voice.
and then he waited while the prayer
book leaves fiuttered and rustled and
the singers laid their hymnals face
downward to keep the place for the
gloria. Lord, who shall dwell in thy
tabernacle, or who shall rest upon
thy holy hill?" He read in slow, i'm
pressive tones and with a rush of
many hurried voices came the
response, Even he that leadeth an
uncorrupt life and doeth the thing
which is right and speaketh the truth
from his heart"
For the first time in years the
words caught the attention of De
We're, and with an unconscious asso-
citation of ideas he looked up at the
new tenor. He knew that the white
surplice emphasized the spiritual
quality in any face He himself could
look almost a saint in his vestments
and the subdued light of the church.
But in this boys delicate, clear-cut
face there was purity and strength,
something De We're had believed in
years ago and had lost And Enrol,
the new tenor, seemed to look at him
across the chancel with the reproving
eyes of his own lost youth. On the
te deum he could hear the tenor with
its peculiar thrill and from the con-
gregation came the mellow contralto
notes of the woman, who was a
stranger there. With a quick sense of
mockery De We're closed his lips and
with a movement of his hand to his
throat shook his head at the choir
leader He sang his solo just before
the sermon, in voice a trifle husky
and strange, using all his art to con-
ceal a lack he had never realized be-
fore. He didn't know what the SER
mon was about. He hardly knew
whether there was one.
He was waiting for the solo that
was to follow. A face might deceive
him, but never a voice.
The sermon was ended, the offer
tory taken, and the ushers standing
expectantly in the rear of the church
when the organ rolled out the famil-
lar prelude.
There is a green hill far away
sang Enroll, and everybody listened.
The voice was a rich, sweet tenor
Iobusto, showing immaturity, some
glaring faults of technic and a lack
of that smoothness and finish that