Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1903-12-23
know than YOU

than TINT his work among you will
not pass away with his removal but
endure while you live" and the smile
on Ovens face grew brighter. "And
now you must not grudge him his re-
ward and his rest and his
/ home" And Bill. nodding his head slow
ly, said under his breath. "That's So"
1 Then they sang that hymn of the
dawning glory of Immanuels land,
Lady Charlotte playing the organ and
the Duke leading with clear, steady
voice verse after verse. When they
came to the last verse the minister
made sign, and while they waited he
read the words:
| I've wrestled on toward heaven
Gainst storm and wind and tide.''
And so on to that last victorious cry
II hail the glory dawning
| In 1mmanuel's land"
For a moment it looked as If the
singing could not go on, for tears were,
on the minister's face and the women
were beginning to sob, but the Dukes
clear, quiet voice caught up the song
and steadied them all to the end.
After the prayer they all went In
| and looked at the Pilots face and
passed out. Tearing behind only those
that knew him best. The Duke and
the Hon. Fred stood looking down up
on the quiet face.
"The country has lost a good man.;
Duke" said the Hon. Fred. The Duke,
bowed silently. Then Lady Charlotte,
came and gazed a moment.
Dear Pilot" she whispered, her
tears falling fast. Dear, dear Pilot!i
Thank God for you! You have done
much for me- Then she stopped and
kissed him on his cold lips and on his
forehead.
Then Gwen seemed to suddenly
waken as from dream. She turned
and, looking up liz a frightened way,
said to Bill hurriedly:
II want to see him again. Carry
| meg'
And Bill gathered her up in his arms
and took her in. AS they looked down
upon the dead face with its look Of
proud peace and touched with the
stateliness of death Owens fear pass
ed away, but when the Duke made to
cover the face Gwen drew a sharp
breath and, clinging to Bill, said, with
| sudden gasp:
ooh, Bill, can't bear it alone! I'm.
| afraid alone"
She was thinking of the long, weary
days of pain before her that she must
face now without the Pilots touch and
smile and voice.
ME, too" said Bill, thinking Of the
days before him. He could have said
nothing better. Gwen looked in his
face moment, then said, We'll help
each other" and Bill, swallowing hard,
could only nod Ills head in reply. Once
more they looked upon the Pilot, lean
ing down and lingering over him, and
then Gwen said quietly:
stake me away. Bill"
And Bill carried her into the outer
room. Turning back, caught look
on the Dukes face SO full Of grief that
r could not help showing my amaze
ment. He noticed and said:
1.-THE best man ever knew, Conner.
| He has done something for me too.
f. - I'd give the world to die like
| that"
| Then he covered the face.
We sat at Ovens window, Bill, with
Gwen in his arms, and watching.
| Down the sloping, snow covered hill
wound the procession Of sleighs and
horsemen, without sound Of voice or
| Jingle of bell till, one by one, they
passed out Of our sight and dipped
down into the canyon. But we knew
every step of the winding trail and fol-
lowed them in fancy through that fairy
scene of mystic wonderland. We knew
how the great elms and the poplars
and the birches clinging to the snowy
sides interlaced their bare boughs into
a network of bewildering completely,
and how the cedars and balsams and
spruces stood in the bottom, their dark
boughs weighted down with heavy
white nantes of snow, and how every
stump and fallen log and rotting stick
was made thing of beauty by the
snow that had fallen so gently on them
in that quiet spot. And we could see
the rocks of the canyon sides CLEAN out
black from under overhanging snow
banks, and we could hear the song of
the Swan in its many tones, now under
an icy sheet, cooling comfortably, and
then bursting out into sunlit laughter
and leaping into a foamfng pool, to
| glide away smoothly murmuring its de-
light to the white banks that curved to
kiss the dark water as 1t fed. And
where the flowers had been, the violets
and the wind flowers and the clematis
and the columbine and all the ferns
and Towering shrubs, there lay the
snow-everywher the snow, pure,
white and myriad gemmed, but every
tlake flowers shroud.
Out where the canyon opened to the
sunny, sloping prairie there they would
lay the Pilot to sleep, within touch of
/ the canyon he loved, with all Its sleep
ing things. And there he lies to this
time. But spring has come many times
to the canyon since that winter day,
and has called to the sleeping flowers,
summoning them forth in merry
troops, and ever more and more till the
canyon ripples with them. And lives
are like flowers. In dying they abide
not alone, but sow themselves and
bloom again with each returning
spring, and ever more and more.
For often during the following years,
Us here and there came upon one Of
those that companied with us In those
foothill days. would catch glimpse
In word and deed and look of him we
called, first in jest but afterward with
true and tender feeling we were not
ashamed to own, our Sky Pilot.
THE END.
POSTAGE STAMPS.