The Celina Democrat. (Celina, O. [Ohio]) 1895-1921, 1910-06-24
CHAPTER vIII.-(Continued.J }


hills were passed and the surrey horses
made no motion to turn in at the gate
Of the old oak -shingled house beyond
the iron works.
Hold ont" said Tom. Doesn't the
driver know where we livc?
That's the sup'rintendents office ana
lab'ratory now, son. 1t was getting 20
be tolerably noisy down here for your
nanny so nigh TO the plant ANA we
allowed to s'prise you. We've oeeh
buildin' us a new house up on the
knoll Just this side o. Major Dabneys''
1t was the cruelest Of the changes
the one hardest to bear; and 1t drove
the boy back into the dumb retlcehce
which was a part OF his birthright' HAD
they left him nothing by which TO re-
member the old days-days when We're
already beginning 20 take on the
glamour of unutterable happiness past!
Tom saw well-kept lawns, park-llKe
groves and pretentlous country villas
where he had once trailed Nance Jane
through the dark woods and MS
father told him the names and circum-
stance of the owners as they drove mp
the pike. There was lockwood, the
summer home of the Stanleys, and The
Dell. owned, and inhabited at Intervals
by Mr.. Young Dickson, OF the South
Tredegar potteries. Farther along
there was Fairmount, whose owner was
a wealthy cotton-seed buyer; Rook
Hill, which Tom remembered as the
ancient ,oosting ground of the migra-
tory winter crows; and Farnsworth
Park, ruralizing the name Of its build
er. On the most commanding of the
hillsides was pile of rough-cut Ten
nessee marble with turrets and many
gables, rejoicing in the classic name Of
Warwick Lodge. This, Tom was told,
was the country home Of Mr. Farley
himself. and the house alone had cost
a fortune.
At the turn in the pike where you
lost sight finally of the iron-wo~ks,
there was new church, miniature in
native stone Of good old Stephen
Hawker's church of Morwenstow. Tom
gasped at the sight of it, and scowied
when he saw the gilded cross on the
tower
"Catholic!" he said. And right here
in our valley!"
mo" said the father; "it's 'Piscopal-
ian. Colonel Farley is one o. the ves-
tries, or whatever you call 'em, of St
Michael's yonder in town. l reckon he
wanted to get his own kind o. people
round him out here, so he built this
church, and they run it as a sort of a
side-show to the big church. Your
NANNY always looks the other way
when we come by"
Tom looked the other way too
watching anxiously for the first sight
of the new home. They reached it IN
good time, by a graveled driveway
leading up from the white pike between
rows of forest trees; and there was a
second negro waiting to take the team
when they alighted at the veranda
steps.
The new house was a two-storied
brick, ornate and palpablY assertive,
with no suggestion of the homely com
fort of the old. Yet, when his mother
had wept over him in the wide hall,
and there was time to go about, taking
it ali IN like a cat exploring a strange
garret, 4 was not 50 bad.
But there were compensations and
Tom discovered one of them on the
first Wednesday evening after his ar
rival. The new home was within easy
walking distance of Little Zoar and he
went with his mother to the prayer
meeting.
The upper end Of the pike was un-
changed, and the little weather. beaten
church stood in its growing of piles,
the same yesterday, to-day and for
ever Better still, the congregation, the
small Wednesday might gathering at
least, held the familiar faces of the
country folk The minister was a
young missionary, zealously earnest,
and lacking as yet the quality of hard
ness and doctrinal precision which had
been the boys daily bread and meat at
the sectarian school. What wonder,
then, that when when the call for testi-
mony was made, the old pounding and
heart -hammering set in, and duty,
duty, duty, wrote itself in flaming let
ters on the dingy walls?
Tom set his teeth and swallowed
hard, and let dozen of the others rise
and speak and sit again. He could feel
the beating of his mothers heart, and
he knew she was praying silently for
him, praying that he would not deny
his Master For her sake, then
but not yet; there was still time enough
after the next hymn---after the next
testimony-when the minister should
give another invitation. He was chain
ed to the bench and could not rise; his
tongue clave to the roof of his mouth
and his lips were like dry leaves. The
silences grew longer; all, or nearly all.
had spoken. He was sitting.
whatsoever therefore shall confess
me before men, him will confess also
before my Father which is in heaven.
But whosoever shall deny me before
men, him will l also deny before my
Father which is in heaven" 1t was the
solemn voice Of the young minister, and
Tom staggered to his feet with the
lamps whirling in giddy circles.
Il feel to say that the Lord is pre-
cious to my soul tonight. Pray for
me, that l may ever be found faith
full"
He struggling through the words of
the familiar form gaspingly and sat
down. A burst Of triumphant song
arose.
20 happy day, that fixed my choice
,)n Thee, my Saviour and my God!"
and the ecstatic aftermath came. Tyu-
Iy, it was better to be doorkeepe~ in
the house of God than to dwell in the
tents of wickedness What bliss was
there to be compared with this heart
melting, soul-lifting blessing for duty
done?
1t went with him a good part Of the
way home, and Martha Gordon respect
ed his silence, knowing well what
heights and depths were engulhng the
young spirit.
But afterward-alas and alas; that