Forest City press. (Forest City, Potter County, D.T. [S.D.]) 1883-19??, 1915-03-24

do not safeguard yourself. Come unto
Me and L Will give you rest Let me
oe your guide, my boy; let me lead you
into sweet. gentle fields. where strife
tered
MRS. Presbrey, carried away by the
earnestness of her husband, cried cut
on, Eric, think twice-always think
twice."
Think of the great, good God. who
- began Mr.. Presbrey, but Eric,
who, all through the blighting recital
mad been trying to concentrate his
mind on the admonition: Honor thy
father n thy mother that thy days
may be long in the land" could control
himself no longer.
II wish l could kill you-and YOU"
he cried from the bottom of his har-
assed soul, lifting his %blood-red face
to glare first at one and then at the
other Presbrey.
There vas a full minute of utter 81
lence.
was secretly wishing that. by some
chance. Eric might nave a fair sized
rock In his pocket, and also the GOODNESS
to heaVe it accurately.
There, there!' murmured MIR. Pres
brey, rather helplessly. This benign
adjuration. with its expressive hand ac-
compartment. was meant for the dis
tracted boy. but somehow 1t went far
Their. 1t was the means of checking the
caustic reprimand hat rose to the lips
of each of the elder Blagdens, as Well
as putting his scandaiiZed wife in her
proper place before she could utter a
word-which was something he had
never been able to do before. You
not give way TO age like that.
You should try to govern, try to con-
quer the vicious impulse that is back
OF such o~utbursts. 1 am sorry-very
cn,.ry- INpic 1n0o~ c,,al v.N,1, from
your lips. Only ruffians and the be-
sotted of our world utter such threats.
Compose yourself. You can overcome
these base thoughts if you will but try.
Try. my boy, try. l.
"Amen." exclaimed his wife.
chair in the corner. Mr.. Pres3rey
turned a dark red. He was conscious
of ridicule in the boys dolorous itera.
ton.
Mr.. Blagden-' he began warmly.
"Chetwynd!" Numbered the young
What have 1 done?" whined Chef
wynd, thoroughly frightened.
Never mind. Mr.. Blagden. l beseech
you," cried Mr.. Presbrey in haste. re-
considering an impulse. Il am sure
Chetwynd spoke with sincerity In his
heart. Do not chide him, I implore."
Mr.. Blagden shook his finger at
Chetwynd, n the incident was closed.
But in of the undiscovered recesses
of Mr.. Presbrey's soul. q small, bitter
thing took o and from it. all I'M
beknownst to him. a most unchristian
amazing swiftness. Mr.. Presbrey new
er had hated anyone or anything in all
his life. But he was destined know
the feeling n to enjoy 1t.
He renewed his appeal to the boy on
the sofa. You would have though thai
~1,~- 49, to- 49, 1.-El-- 20
the scaffold, SO eloquently did the ex- |
cellent gentleman plead for his re-
generation. The boy. after his single
outburst, shrank within himself.
crushed, Inundated, trembling. Some
how. he knew now that old Jabez had
fences confined the truth. The light
went out of his soul, the warmth from
his heart. A beautiful ideal was being |
as he looked on, and he could
offer no resistance to the demolition. 1t
was all true. His father was a MUIR /
mercy. without fairness. There was
nothing left for the boy to build on.
nothing that could stand firmly enough
for him to attach his dreams to-noth- |
ing! The minister was telling the
truth. The minister could not lie. Old
Jabez had lied. Old Jabez could lie. he
In a hay fashion as he tried
to prop up his hopes by putting the cid
seaman's word against that of the
divine.
His face was white with the frost
that had entered his blood. His eyes
Twice, even thrice. he looked to his
uncle and aunt for succor. though he
knew not why. Something told him be-
forehand that they would not come to
his relief. that they had no desire to
shield him from the truth-aye. that
they had brought It about for some IN.
applicable reason of their own. He did
not feel the convulsive clutching Of his
sisters fingers; he was dead to every
thing except the steel that was slip
ping into his heart.
Once he heard Mr.. Presbrey say. as
Eric dear, the man who was hanged in
Ridgely county last fall? Think of
that! Think Of that mans feelings!"
But he could not think Of that mans
feelings. He could only think of his
own. of his sisters. OF his fathers.
that mans feelings? What was that
man to him, or to his sister? What had
he to do with tho case? That mar had
only killed his wife. He had not killed
a scoundrel. az his father had done.
'Come to Christ! Come to Christi"
the minister, p%unctuating his harangue
with rne appeal from time to time.
Out Of the maze Eric heard his uncls's
voice:
DO not hesitate on my account.
Presbrey. Tell them Of their mother
In the middle Of Mr.. Presbrey's de-
vout castigation of Horace Blagden's
prOtagonistic sister. little Mary threw
herself or Eric's shoulder and sobbed
as II her heart would break. Ersc's
trembling voice broke in on her sObs,
in the feeble effort to comfort her.
Don't cry. Mamie. please don't!
Listen! You never can be like THAI.
You've got me. I'll stand by you. Moth
ing can ever happen to you" Then he
turned .fercely upon his uncle: Why