The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1903-08-23
Dm tho [l6G@nna0py W@00Ddo

is something that can not be computed IN
any coin. 1t is just this-more life.
This thought has come home to me in
the reading of a remarkable book called
"a Child of Nature by Hamilton w.
Maba The book is remarkable not be-
cause it is in any way sensational, but
because it narrates with such singular
clearness, simplicity and charm the life
history of a human soul. 1t begins at the
funeral Of John Foster, a New England
farmer, whose work had not been very
well paid from the pecuniary point of view,
and who died at sixty, a rather lonely,
poor and obscure man. But he was not an
unsatisfied man. His hard-handed and
hard minded neighbors saw in his counter
ance, as they filed into the Swallowed room
to look for the last time at one of whom
they had been used to think with some
thing of pity and something of contempt,
an expression of contented calm,-"the as
surance of success which rested on John
Fosters face like a decisive judgment on
his life
They saw this, and half-wondered at it.,
half-resented it. 1t seemed to them az If
he, the successful men, bad missed. Like
the first hour laborers, in the parable of
the vineyard, they felt injured because an
eleventh-hour laborer, one who had done
little work, according to their standard,
had received full pay. And this pay, of
which John Fosters peaceful face, with
its tranquil and grateful things-what was
it? Doubtless the hard-minded neighbors
could never quite understand what it was;
but to those who have the sympathetic
mind and the thoughtful heart the book
makes the secret an open one. The sigma
ture of peace on John Fosters face was
his receipt in full for the wages of life.
The story goes back to his boyhood and
shows the shy, solitary lad growing UP
among the hills, and coming into harmony
with them Patient, expectant, sensitive,
he looked and listened his waylthrough his
little world.
Earth and the common face Of nature
spake
To him rememberable things
''His body was often at work while his
mind was at play: for birds sang over the
meadows as he did his chores, and over
of the sky, with room enough for a boys
soul to range in and a boys heart to make
its home
grace into his outward form. Something
of the transformation which Hawthorne.
in his story of THE Great Stone Face" de-
scribes in the countenance of Ernest, was
accomplished in John Foster. The things
that he saw and heard in the great world
of everyday marvels were reflected in the
light of his eyes and the tranquility of his
brow. He inherited the insignia of one of
natures noblemen.
Then, one day when he had taken the
Bible into the woods with him, the world
of religion began to open itself to the
boy. The book sang strange and sweet
music to him, at first fragmentary and
mysterious. but gradually growing clearer
and more harmonious until at last he
heard Enthusiastically the Divine Voice
among the trees of the garden in the cool
of the evening.
other books, poetry, history, philosophy,
those books which Wordsworth says "are
substantial world, both pure and good, -
came into his possession and entered into
his life. His horizon expanded His inter
ests ran far out beyond the bounds of his
age and his habitation. His friendship
overlooked the limit of his acquaintance.
He knew more men and women than he
the residuary estate of humanity.
Then came love,-the miracle in which
self is lost to be found. Why John Eos
ter's romance had mo earthly close The
book does not tell us; there are no adj
ventures in it; indeed it hardly narrates
single definite event But though his
love was untold, it was not fruitless. 1t
pacifed and enriched his heart by the
al, - 4
simple womanhood in the person of zone
maiden only
A long, still, steadfast life, full of small
duties and large thoughts bounded by mar
row circumstances and expanded by lofty
visions, poor in money, rich in meaning, -
that was John Fosters existence 1t sat.
isfied him because through it all he knew
that he was notwithstanding in self
control, growing in depth and wealth OF
feeling, growing in harmony with that
lone God, one law, one element
And one far-off divine event
Towards which the whole creation moves .
The power of self-expression was a gift
that had been denied to this rich life. But
through his later years Foster had kept
some record of his thoughts and inward
experiences, written in fragmentary diaries
and disconnected notes. After his DEATH
a young. man, Ralph Parkman, in many
ways his exact counterpart, came to live
in his deserted house. Parkman was rich
in power of expression, but poor in inward
experience; he had lived in the busy world
and won many of its prizes. but had not
yet entered into the full possession of ais
own life. Disseminated with the abundant
rewards Of his brilliant work he had come
away to the quiet farmhouse among the
hills as to retreat. dmly hoping to find
his better self. Nature welcomed him
and healed him. The air of the old house
haunted by memories of its former tenant
tranquilized and elevated his spirit The
records of Fosters inner life, discovered
one winter evening in the desk where they
had lain unnoticed for many months, fel
like vital germs into the fruitful soil OF
Parkman'S mind.
Here was the truth for which he had
been waiting. Here was the precious ma
terial upon which his hoping genius had
been unconsciously preparing to work. "a