The Columbus dispatch. (Columbus, Miss.) 19??-1922, 1920-12-29

a. Jbu ohVuid ~ CduSit UP III tttC
swirliRg crowds Of noon-tide human
ity on lower Broadway to-day, you
can make safe haven by escaping
this maelstrom and seeking safety
and repose in the sanctuary Of Old
Trinity. Repose seems far from
these restless, ever-beating surges
that have moments of cbb and flood
but continue like great tide, to
sweep along the narrow street and
carry everything before their resist
less impetus.
"But step aside, if that freedom Of
movement is allowed you, by the
lunch-seeker and the stroller, and en-
ter the portal Of the old church that
looks down the canyon Of Wall Street
unperturbed and calm. The daily
frequenters Of the church yard, who
eat their lunch by the slumbering
forefathers Of Manhattan with the
greatest Indifference to the serious
character Of these old tombs, or who
crochet pink sweater under the
shaved Of the venerable pile, know
nothing Of the real sanctuary Of Old
Trinity. One must pass the sunny
church yard with its groups Of in.
souciant idlers and step inside the
great door to know the spell Of the
place. With one step, and of no seven
leagued boots, eithVr, one has left
the noise, the glare, and the crowds
behind and finds at first only al
blurring impression Of dimness, wide
spaces and shadowy aisles.
"Soon it becomes apparent that
there are many people seated in this
silent place, little shafts of blue and
red light from the long windows re-
veal these quiet figures, and as
shape and substance gradually re-
turn to the vision in this hushed
dimness, the church reveals itself as
a real place Of prayer and meditation.
For these scattered figures that seem
insignificant in the vast area Of pews
and wide aisles are many, and yet
their purpose seems the same in the
titentness of their posture and the
stiffness that prevades the throng.
There are many lSneeling people,
many who read the services for the
day from the prayer books in the
pcws, and many who remain with
heads bowed and still for long, long
minutes.
at is interesting to note, as ones
eyes become more and more accus-
toned to the half light, how different
are the types who seek the refresh
ment and solace of this oasis in the
arid wastes of the long strenuous
business day. The genus stenographer
that, Of course, one knows tina. she
covers so wide a variety of species
will be here in some Of her variants,
and she is.
"Serious, sedate, often seated with
her hands folded and her eyes staring
into the deeper shadows that close
around the far altar, there are many
of her, and one expects her to be
there. Perhaps one does not anticl-
pate the elderly business man of
obviously prosperous and impressive
appearance. He is the type that all
the stories of frenzied finance repre-
sent as always hurting cryptic and
world revolutionizing messages
through the receiver of Wall Street
telephones, closeted with the po-
tentates of high finance as making
over the face of the world in con-
ference.
"But he is here. He usually sits
well forward and frequently is the
one to finger over the service of the
day with reverent air, and very often
as he rises at length to leave he bows
as he faces the altar, unlighted and
dim as it is, at the far away end OF
the broad, dim aisle. One wonders If
Wall Street knows that he is here,
and if these calm moments OF aloof-
ness from the excitement and fervor
of the day have brought him the guer-
don that he sought. One cannot help
noticing that his face is calm and
sometimes almost radiant as he pass
es out Of the church, and one feels
checked in idle speculation and ash
AIMED to have vcntured into the Inner
| fastness of any human heart.
"And there are occasionally fig
urcs Of grief. A woman enters and
as she kneels bursts into quiet but
steady sobbng. She remains a long
time in this painful supplicatidn, hers
may be grief that even the balm Of
this place cannot heal, but when she
goes away, she has achieved resigna-
ton. at least, and outward composure,
land one must hope that the influence