The Press., 1921-03-03
A Modern Miracle
By EUGENE s. WATSON
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(COpyrtght.)
 Big Ben, sheltered from observation by the upturned roots of forest gi- ant, squirming uneasily upon his earthly seat, seeking relief for his swollen ankle by tenderly lifting from 1t the weight of its encircIing iron band, at- tached to which through the medium of short chain was 8 heavy iron ball.
 Big Ben was a convict and had es- capped.
 All during that hay autumn day he had eluded the vigorous search of the guards from the iron mines where, with other convicts of the state of Tennessee, he had been forced to la boz.
 It was not his fault that the first few breaths of frost-kissed autumn air always filled his being with an uncon- trOllable appetite for backbone and spareribs. Nor could he be blamed because just upon the first day that this appetite was irritating his sys- tenn the colonel's brother from up North had carelessly left his new rife leaning against the porch, where Ben's eyes could not help seeing it.
 And after that, while crossing through the timber to his little cabin, he had nearly run over half dozen of the finest pOrkers in Marion. county, escaped from the plantation of the judge and enjoying their new-found freedom in the woods. Under this ir~ resistible chain of circumstances, how could he. be blamed for taking the rifle and forgetting to return it in the eI- citement following a- lust for slaugh- ter which eliminated in the death of four of those pOrkers?
 The jury that found him guilty" could not understand. They had said he was a thief and branded him a felon. But they did not know, no one knew except "mammy" and sisters.
 As his thoughts dwelt upon his tribu- lations, there came to him a vision of his old "mammy" and her early teach ings of the strength and comfort to be derived from prayer, and with this pie ture before him he bowed his head, knelt with hands Outstretched, and fervently exclaimed:
 "Oh, Lord, never done nothing. I don't deserve all this trouble. You knows how good I been, so send me a file quick so's I kin take off desc irons and go home to nanny"
 And hardly had the silent words been mentally formed when before him nOiselessly appeared an angel, in the guise of white man mounted upon a white horse.
 Without word or slightest sound this angel placed in Ben's outstretched hands a small, green box containing six new files, and silently disappeared from view.
 It was "HoO-hoo" night in St. Louis, and the corridors of the Planters ho= tel were thronged with well-dressed men, each wearing that mystic insig- mia denoting the owner a devotee of lumbers' cult and a wOrshiper at the shrine of the black cat.
 It had been very busy day and eve ming, and in the short time remaining before tne noise and reverberation of "a large city awoke was to change into the drOwsy, ech0ing, audible silence of the same city asleep, a few of the prominent brothers in forestry had seated themselves round a table in the cafe, willing away the time by anecdOte, experience and reminiscence.
 The conversation had slowly drift ed into those higher ideals and planes of thought so frequently found most highly developed among those whose rearing has been close to natures breast. and the opinion was expressed by the NestOr of the gathering that naturally all men were good, and the bad in them resulting only from edu- cation and environment. Tn support of his argument, he stated that in his experience every unconscious vOlun- tary action by a human being was based upon a good impulse and in- evitably resulted in a kindly deed.
 These sentiments\were warmly in- dOrsed, and the silence which followed left each to his own reflections until broken by one of the party.
 Speaking of unconscious impulses, !" he said, reminds me of an incident which happened to me down in Ten nessee.
 'I had been cruising around among some timber in the southern part of the state, and was temporarily staying at a mill owned by a friend of mine near the Sequatchie river. was mount ing my horse to go to a small town near by. when the superintendent asked me if would bring him back a. box of files.
 Upon finishing my business, I bought the files and startAd for the mill late in the afternoon. It had been raining hard, but had stopped, and to save time took short cut through pacer, stepping noiselessly along; his hoofs made no sound upon the cushion of damp leaves.
 Suddenly, upon rounding the up- turned stump of a fallen tree, almost ran upon a negro convict hiding behind the roots, his leg impeded by a ball and chain.
 with closed eyes he knelt in an at- titude of prayer, his hands upraised to heaven. UncOnsciOusly and impul- sively as my horse passed along, with out the slightest slackening of speed and without word being spoken, placed the box of files in one of his outstretched hands and passed out of sight between the trees.
 "The entire action was unconscious impulse. have often wondered what