The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1910-06-09
CHAPTER III.

flood But the herald of change hau
not yet blown his trumpet in Paradise
Valley: and the world of russell ana
green and limestone white, spreading
itself before the eyes of the boy SIT
ting with his hands locked over MS
knees on the top step OF the porc.-
fronting the Gordon homestead, was
the same world which. with due sea-
sonaI variations, had been his world
from the beginning.
1t was a hot July afternoon, full
month after the revival, and Thomas
Jefferson was at that perilous pass
--$ere Satan is said to lurk for the
Surpose of providing employment for
the idle. He was wondering If the
shade Of the hill oaks would be worth
the trouble it would take to reach II.
when his mother came to the open
window of the iving-room: small.
fair, we'll preserved woman, this moth
er Of the boy of II, with light brown
hair grazing a little at the temples.
an6 eyes remindful Of vigils, OF fervent
beseeching, OF mighty wpestlings
against principalities and powers and
the rulers of the darkness ID this
world.
You, Thomas Jefferson" she said.
gently. but speaking as one having au-
thority. you'd better be studying your
Sunday lesson than sitting there doing
nothing"
"Yes'm," said the boy. but he made
no move other than to hug his knees
. little closer. He wished his mother
would stop calling his Thomas Jener-
son." TO be sure. it was his name.
or at least two-t thirds Of it; but he
liked the Buddy" OF his father. or the
"Tom-Jeff" Of other people a vast deal
better.
Further, the thought of studying
Sunday lessons begot rebellion AT
times, as during those soul-stirring re-
vival weeks, now seemingly receding
into a far-away past, he had moments
of yearning to be wholly sanctified.
But the miracle OF Transformation
which he had confidently expected as
the result of his coming through" was
still unwrought. When John Bates or
Simon Cantren undertook to bully him.
as aforetime, there was the same in
toxicating experience of all the visible
world going blood-red before his eyes
the same sinful desire to STAY them
one or both.
He stole a glance at the open window
OF the living-room. His mother had
gone about her housework, and ne
could hear her singing softly, as befi.-
ted the still, warm day. All hymns
were beginning to have that effect, ant
this one in particular always renewed
the conflict between the yearning fol
sanctity and a desire TO do something
desperately wicked; the only middle
course lay In flight Hence. the battle
being fairly on, he stole another glance
at the window, sprang afoot, and rar
silently around the house and through
the peach orchard TO Chamber over tn
low stone wall which was the onl,
barrier on that side between the viii
derness and the sown.
Men spoke OF Paradise as 'the val
ley" though II was rather a sheltero'
cove with Mount Lebanon for its back
ground and a semicircular range 0
oak grown hills for its other rampant
Splitting II endwise ran the whit
streak of the pike. macadamized from
the hill quarry which, a full quartz
of . century before the Civil War. ha
furnished the stone for the Dabn.
manor house; and paralleling the roa
unevenly lay a ribbon of silver, know
to less poetic souls than Thomas JEFF
ferson's as Turkey Creek. but love
best by him under its almost forgotte
Indian name of Chiawassee-
Beyond the valley and it's inclosin
hills rose the 'other mountain" blu
In the sunlight and royal purple in tn
shadows-the Cumberland: source an
birthplace of the cooling west win
that was whispering softly 70 the &c
dars on high Lebanon Thomas Jeffe.
distances Pisgah. picturing II as tn
mountain from which Moses had look
ed over into the Promised Land. Some
time he would go and climb 1t an
feast his eyes on the sight OF the CO
naan beyond; yea, he might even &
down and possess the good land. II 1
the Lord should not hold him back {
He had held Moses
That was a high thought, quite
keeping with the sense of overlordsh
bred of the upper stillnesses. To cor
many with 1t, the home valley straigh
wav began to idealize itself from {,
uplifted point OF view on the moul
Of vision The Paradise fields we
delicately outlined squares of viz
green or golden yellow, or the war
red brown OF the upturned earth
the faIlov places. The old negro qua
ters on the Dabney grounds. maj
wears gone to the ruin Of disuse, we
vine-grown and invisible save as
snot OF summer verdure; and the ma
or-house itself. gray. grim and forbi
ding TO a small boy scurrying past
in The deepening twilight. was now
more than a great square roof with I
cheerful sunlight playing on it.
Farther down the valley, near I
place where the white pike twisted
self between two OF the rampant hi
10 escape into the great valley of
Tennessee, the split-shingled roof u
der which Thomas Jefferson had eat
and slept since the earliest beginni
OF memories became also a part
the high-mountain harmony; and
ragged. red iron-ore beds on the slo
above the furnace were softened In
a blur OF joyous color
The iron furnace. with its alterns
ing smoke puff and duh red fla
struck the ore Earring note in a syl
phony blown otherwise on great n
lures organ-pipes; but to Thorn
Jefferson the furnace was as much
part OF the immutable scheme as
hills or the forests or the creek viii
furnished the motive power FOR It's a
blast More, 1t stood for him as
summary OF the worlds industry,
the white pike was the worlds gr'
highway, and Major Dabney it's oh
citizen
He was knocking his bare heels
gether and thinking idly of Ma
DaIney and certain disquieting rum,
lately come to Paradise, when
tinkling drip Of the spring into the p
at the foot OF his perch was interrul
ed by a sudden splash. By shifting
little to the right he could see
spring. a girl Of about his own a
barefooted, and with only her tang
mat OF dark hair for n head covert
was filing her bucket in the pool.
broke a dry twig from the nearest
dar and dropped it on her.
you better quit that, Tom-Jeff G
don. / taken sight o. you up thei
said the girl, ignoring him otherw
That's my spring, Nan Bryerso
he warned her dictatorially.
'Shucks! II amt your spring 6