The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1910-05-12

not De Tree. Sne cOulQ always secure
few moments respite from his pres
ence, at least she had done so hereto
fore, but she did not dare to try how
he would sustain longer absences,
hence the necessity for establishing
herself in the cave as harbor of ref
uge, sanctuary.
At first glance there was nothing
within the little apartment, washed
out ages ago from the hard stone by
what action of water she could we'll
imagine, but as she scrutinized it
closely she noticed in a recess a part
where the rock wall cropped out in a
sort of low shelf On the shelf-won-
der of wonders!-lay book. Next to
humanity, book, she thought, would
be the most precious shaTer of her
solitude.
1t was a small, leather-bound vol
ume. Dust in the form of tiny par
ticles of sand lay thick upon it. The
cave was sheltered from the prevailing
winds else it might have been buried,
but under the circumstances it might
have lain there for ages and in that
dry, pure air have suffered no deterio-
ration or decay.
Crusoe was petrified when he saw
the footprint in the sand. The woman
was not less startled or less amazed
when she saw the book on the rock.
With little cry of delight she stepped
toward it, bent down, lifted it up,
handling it carefully in spite of ner-
vous exultation, shook the dust from
it, and opened it. She instantly let it
fall from her hands with look of dis
appointment and disgust One glance
was enough. The book was the Bible.
She had no interest in the Bible, a col
lection of ancient genealogies and
time-worn fables, myths for the credu-
lous and impossible iengends, mixed
up with poetry whose inspiration was
trivial and history whose details were
false. For this woman, who had for
gotten how to pray and who had abol-
ished God, had little use for the Book
of Books. Rather any other printed
page, she had thought bitterly, than
that one.
She had acted upon impulse, not in
her disdain for the Bible and that for
which it stood-that was grounded
upon reason and philosophy, she fond
ly believed-but in her action in cast
ing it from her. 1t had no more than
rolled upon the sand at her feet when,
with swift reconsideration, she stopped
and lifted it again. 1t had occurred to
her that there might be writing there
in and that the writing might give her
clew to the mystery of the man. She
knew that births and deaths were fire.
quently entered upon the blank leaves
interposed between the Old and New
Testaments. Unfamiliar though she
was with the contents of the book,
she easily found the place and eagerly
looked at the leaves. Alas, they were
blank She turned to the fly leaves
at the beginning Of the book. There
was name written there and in
woman's hand.
John Reven Charnock," she read.
Below was date 25 years before
the moment of her landing.
John Revell Charnock. It was a
strange name, English in part, with
suggestion of France in the middle
name. 1t meant nothing to her. Was
this John Revell Charnock who stood
outside looking at her? If so, who was
John Revell Charnock? The problem
was not greatly elucidated. There was
the man or the man to the book, or
even that the one appertained remote
ly to the other. There was a certain
likelihood, however, that they had
come to the island together.
She had been sure that the man was
a white man. She had thought that
he looked like an American, an Eng
lishman, an Anglo-Saxon, and the
longer she looked at him with the
Bible in her hand the more sure she
became.
She had been disappointed that the
book had turned out to be the Bible,
but at least it would serve one useful
purpose. By it, without the laborious
effort involved in making letters
upon the sand, she might teach the
man before her to read. She wished
she had a worthier volume from her
point of view through which to intro
duce him to the worlds literature,
but she would do the best she could
with that. 1t was pitiful, as she saw
it, that with a nascent soul to work
with, she should be compelled to en-