The Hocking sentinel. [volume] (Logan, Ohio) 1871-1906, 1904-03-31
A MEASURE
OF SUCCESS
eRANCIs JEROME looked from

| ~
@RANCIS JEROME looked from
his newspaper with a yawn. Th'
! - train, which had been passing
through scrubby forest where the snow
still fingered, halted at a small town
One passenger entered the car. Jerome.
wandering gaze was attracted by hi
face.
"He looks familiar. It-why, it il
Tom Jones, my classmate at Cornell"
The next moment the two men were
shaking hands and both talking at once
NO, don't live up here in this desc
late wilderness" Jones said in response
to the others query. Il am practicing
law at Molray. It's only a country
town, but it has a future before it. I've
been up this way on business for eli
| ent. Glad to get started for home, fol
it's Saturday, and / have been away
| from Nan and the boys all the week.
He laughed gayly. Jerome's lips curl.
ed under his blonde mustache. 1t was
country lawyer and family man.
What Of yOurself?" Jones asked after
little. You know the class of 1884 ex-
pected great things of you"
Jerome shrugged his shoulders "What
fools we were! 1t took me two years
to get rid of the idea that it was my
mission to make the world better. Then
l burned my manuscripts, locked up my
pen, and went into the wholesale gro
cery business in Chicago.
You! A wholesale grocer! l wish
you hadn't told me; all these years 1
have thought Of you as uplifting human
ity"
His companion smiled cynically. ''How
are the mighty fallen! l am content.
More than that, l am successful. I've
made fortune, and that is the measure
of success in these days."
Perhaps so," little doubtfully.
"Still I'd rather have my wife and boys,
my home and my dreams of the future
than fortune. Are you married =
mo, no; time for that. My life has
been busy one. Just now am taking
tile place Of one of my travelling sales
men for week. l often go on such a
trip, visiting their regular customers and
learning how well they do the work 1
pay them for. My next point is Mon
roe"
"We are almost there. It's little
box Of a place, just numbering town."
Eyes, I'll get an evening train ON to
civilization. Well, good bye, Jones.
Glad I met you. When you are in Chi
cago look me up."
An hour later Francis Jerome was in
a decidedly bad temper. He had learn
ed that there was no train out Of Mon
roe until Monday morning, thirty-six
hours later.
What beastly shame" he growled,
picking his way along the uneven street.
II will come dangerously near starving
at that apology for hotel. And to-
morrow! Wonder if there's such a thing
as novel in the town. Fortunately
I've a box Of cigars-good ones, too
In my case"
He made his calls upon the retail
grocers. As he was on his way back to
the hotel he heard music.
''That is no novice's nand," he thought
as the organ pealed out strong, tri-
umphant melody. "The player is a mu-
sician, born and trained"
Glancing round, Mr.. Jerome saw that
he stood before modest church. The
door was ajar. and he caught a glimpse
of a dim light within.
The music had glided into a tender
harmony that thrilled the listeners heart
with a half-forgotten memory. Pulling
the door open, he stepped within.
The small audience room was lighted
only by two lamps in the further end.
The elevated platform upon which stood
the pulpit and the organ was heavily
trimmed with evergreen branches and
the wall at the back Of the platform was
covered with the same. Outlined against
this dusky greenness were two stands
each holding a magnificent Easter lily.
the blossoms cleaning white and pearly
In the dim light.
Jerome remembered that the morrow
would be Easter. As he looked there
was the sound of a side door opening,
the music ceased, and the organist rose,
saying:
"Ah, you are prompt, little girl"
How beautiful the decorations are," |
The newcomer was a young girl, and |
she went on, "Are you ready, Miss Mil |
lred?'
'Yes, dear. You play it through once
before 1 begin to sing"
"You must stop me if go wrong. 1t |
makes me SO happy to think that 1 can
play for you to sing, you, my precious
Miss Mildred, who have taught ME ey-
.rything."
There was the sound of glad tears in
he fresh young voice. For a moment
he two clung together. Then the girl
mt down at The organ, while her COM
,anion took up Il position between the
lilies.
Francis Jerome drew long breath.
t was true, this woman. whose crimson
inted, olive face showed but dimly
edar boushs, was Mildred Blake, once
is promised wife.
He sat still, his breath coming in short
asps. The girl played on. Mildred
hrew back her head, and the voice that
ad SO often filled his heart with rap
ure rang out in
Christ is risen, risen to-day"
The unseen listener did not stir until
he song was ended. Then he rose open
d the door softly, and stepped out into
he night.
For an hour he strobe along, going
yer the past. 1t had been so happy. so
opeful, yet his own hand had closed the
oor upon it.
Mildred Blake had been his fellow
tudent at Cornell. She it was who had
lcited him to dream of glorious and a
seful future. When he graduated and
-ent West to seek his fortune Mildred
as his promised wife.
The estrangement had come slowly.
t first he had struggled bravely, cling
lg to his lofty ideals through disap-
ointments and rebuffs. When he be-
an to turn from those ideals, to seek
lateral success at any price, then his J
tiers to Mildred were further apart and !
,lder. IL
She was very patient, but there were
nsths which even her gentleness could ! T