Pittston Gazette

              i | "fH^ lis PITTSTON, LUZEI d 1830.1 No. 46 f Oldest newspaper in the Wvomine Vallev NE COUNTY, PA., FRID Y, JUNE 29, 1900. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. t|1.00*T«M ; in AdruM* town ot conraa, out tnrougnout toe entire state. For the time, therefore, he let his own personal plans go as he faced the fact of a grave crisis In the temperance movement. If Ivirk spoke to God close by. He sat with bis bands on bis knee and looked out into the line of the horizon. us part?" hand went out toward them. Dorothy stood between him and the table. "Will you read them in the order I say?" asked Dorothy. j but the meeting with nis poor partsi? loner profoundly moved him. Malcom Kirk caught up his wife, and a great shadow swept out of his soul, and a great burden fell off his heart. He had not really doubted Dorothy's ability to face any possible event in their lives, but he eagerly welcomed her loving unconditional statement of It. agony of the spiritual conflict with evil forces? Were they about to run away from duty as cowards? Was it duty to remain in Conrad? How about his duty to the temperance conflict? sue nau gone in tnat morning ana naa left word for one to come out. "Father in heaven," he said, "we do not know what it all meant when the Lord came to this earth and lived and suffered and died, but we know enough to feel sure that love for us was what made him do it—love for sinners. We are always asking something, Father, but what we want now is what thou dost want. Save another life—this one here that Is in so much need. His body has been saved for a little while from physical death. Save his life for all time, from eternal loss. His mother is praying for him. All heaven Is anxious for his salvation. If thou wilt show us what more we can do, dear Lord, we will do it. But lead him to thyself, for we cannot forgive his sins or keep him from them. Thou canst do It If he will let thee. For the great love of Jesus to us we give thee all we have, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory. Amen!" "What Is going to become of my boy, Mr. Kirk?" Mrs. Barton asked as he was getting Into the doctor's buggy to go back with him. He went on slowly and had alnmt1 reached the house when, as he turned a corner, he came face to face with the superintendent of his Sunday school. The superintendent was one of the leading temperance workers la Conrad. He had been specially active in the work carried on in the country di»-j tricts. He was one of Malcom's best friends, one of the comparatively fewmen with whom he often counseled and one whom he trusted entirely. j MALCOM KIRK. He had more than one Sunday evening held outdoor services at the very corner where the crowd now gathered. "Certainly. Must I get ready for bad news?" he asked soberly. - , H A Tale of Moral Heroisnffln Overcoming the World. 'It Is for you to say," Dorothy answered. And she gave him the letters in the same order that she had opened them and stood watching his face hungrily as he read tbem. Malcom had not the heart to say anything at first. In his soul a profound horror and a divine indignation against the saloon greater than be had ever known had risen. Dorothy had often helped him at such services by playing and singing. Every man In Conrad was familiar with the tall, homely, awkward figure that now towered over almost every head, and every man In Conrad respected him. * BY CHARLES M. SHELDON, Author of "In Hi* Step#," "Crucifixion of Philip Strong," "Robert Hardy's Sevan Days." Nevertheless he began his struggle for a new church and parsonage during the weeks that followed with vague questionings of his choice of a place for his life work. He no longer had any fears for Dorothy's sake. But he found himself longing to give her what he could not give from any human foresight in the Home Missionary field where they now were. At last he said: "Mrs. Barton, I hope to live to see the day when your boy will not be near this temptation. The saloon and all it represents is an enemy of mankind. We will not cease to work and pray and suffer antll the curse of It is removed from our life as a state." For the time he had forgotten he was going away. 1800, BT TH* ADVANCE IO 00. CHAPTER XI. A MOMENT OP DOUBT. ||[||lll||||||||||||!|||!|||!!l Hbutraliont by Herman Heyer. !!llllll!!!!l!!!llllllll!!llllllllll!fc = Itiiiiilllllllllllllllllillllllllllllllllllllllilllllllllllllilllllliilllllllllllllllilllllllllllllllllllliillllllllllllliiln^ There was an empty dry goods box near one of the stores, and Malcom Kirk asked some of the men to drag it out to the corner of the sidewalk. The minute he bad mounted It the crowd became silent. Malcom read the four letters through one after the other without a word of comment. Only Dorothy, watching him, noted the expressions on his face. When he finished the letter from the Boston magazine, he looked up. "I've jnst been to the houstf, Mr.' Kirk, to see you. I won't take your CHAPTER IX. went to Siear even Maicom preach. But it was a tribute to the hold Malcom had secured ou such men that they appropriated him somehow to themselves or to the best that was struggling in them. KIBK PREVENTS A LTHCHIXO. 4 s Malcom Kirk and Carver ran on ectly In the face of that wild line of D and smoke there was only one sume thought In the mind of Malcom. saw the boy'B mother, and while he i he heard her voice as she had ap- It was at this time, with this experience personal and peculiar to bis married life, £hat Malcom Kirk, fighting against great odds, began a work in Conrad that had tbe furthest possible results on its after life. This work was an attempt, to unite the various churches In a combined and constant crusade against the saloon. Matters were neartng a crisis for the temperance cause. All over the state meetings were being bald. The agitation for a prohibitory -kmeudnient w.v growing Into such proportions that mec who felt tbe pulse of the common peo pie predicted victory. And still tbC whisky forces sneered at the possi bility of an amendment. It Is a rare gift to be able to speak to a great crowd of men out of doors and hold them. Kirk possessed that gift His voice was a splendid instrument, and he knew how to use It It is said of Gladstone that In the days of hlB greatest power as a speaker people would linger in the corridors of the bouse of commons when be was talking simply to enjoy the sound of the tone of his voice, although they could not distinguish a word that was said. Something of this same quality made Kirk's voice a fascination for an audience. Whatever it v as it could truly be called a great gift of Cod. "Well?" said Dorothy slowly, as If Malcom had asked a question. "Promise me, Mr. Kirk, that you will do what you can for PhiL There's no one living be thinks so much of. You saved his life. Save his soul too. Don't give him up, will you, Mr. Kirk?' "It's a great offer," said Malcom. He was evidently very much moved by It. And he rose and walked up and down. It was nearly the middle of the afternoon of that eventful day that the people of Conrad, exhausted, burned, blackened, saw the great danger pass aronnd them and the galloping whirlwind thundered off beyond the town, leaving a mighty and desolate expanse of black and smoldering prairie behind It pealed to him in his study. Instinctively the two men bore off from the road over which the horses bad entered the town toward a swale where the grass and rosin we«0B grew deep, and it was but a fe* fleet from the beaten track of the prairie road that they saw the body of Philip Barton, lying face downward, the hands clinched and holding tightly a broken He gathered up the lines and went slowly on, and for the next mile not a word was said. Then Malcom, bearing the boy move to change his position a little, turned and looked down at him. Malcom trembled. How could he tell this wretched, heartbroken woman, living In that desolate, ruined home, that he had already made his plan to leave Conrad. She clung to him as the largest and only hope for her boy that she knew. What could he say to her? Finally he stopped near the door. "I shall have to go out doors and walk off the excitement," he said, looking at Dorothy, with a faint smile. She was familiar with that habit. Malcom had often done that when tired of the cramped quarters of his little study in the parsonage. • I "Do you believe that, Mr. Kirk?" he asked, while his lips quivered. Then it was that the severest trial of all came to Malcom and Dorothy. "What?" The doctor, who had been listening "That "all heaven is anxious for my salvation?'" He walked to the table, took up his hat and went to the door. He opened It and then turned back to Dorothy, who sat with her elbow on the table and her chin In her hand thinking. sympathetically, bat in silence, had gathered up his reins, and the horses Impatiently made a movement to start, and still Malcom Kirk said nothing. They had gone Into the bouse of one of their parishioners, where the body of Philip Barton had been carried. He was living, but had received some Injuries from falling out of the wagon probably when the team ran away. Were they about to break that promisef If he had any real strength that way, ought he to abandon the canse at this critical time? But how could Dorothy live this life of privation? How could he go on with his meager salary, humiliated by being in debt to the tradespeople and dependent for his living on the spasmodic giving of the churches that "Indorsed" home missions, to be sure, but left the Home Missionary often unpaid or the recipient of boxes which sometimes were so clearly in the nature of charity that no self respecting man could take and use the ■contents? 1 piece of the lines of the harness. No time then to stop and ask whether he were living, but up with him between them and back to the town with all the power of their pulsing manhood.And he used it now in a godlike manner. He began by calling attention to the fact that the people of the state were trying to abolish the saloon by legislative amendment to the constitution. At such a time as that, for the temperance people to act in a lawless manner toward even the enemies of (he home and the church would be an act of folly so great that It might endanger the entire movement for prohibition."Why not? The book says 'there Is Joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.' Why shouldn't heaven be anxious to have us repent?" Kirk succecded in uniting the five ether churches with his own In a w ries of union meetings during the wee «r well as on Sundays. His own cburC: secured for the use of worship a llttl D storeroom on the main Btreet while waiting to hear from the Church Build lng society to which they had made application for a grant of $500 to help rebuild church and parsonage. "I know you won't give him np, Mr. Kirk. If you don't save him, no one -else wilL Don't you think he's worth saving?" ,1 • * \ • . . • \D * "I don't know, but"— "Will you go with me,'dear?" Malcom asked quietly. They had come out of the house and were on their way home when some one In the street suddenly clutched Malcom'i arm and, pointing through the smoke, cried out: " 'God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.' He cares as much for you as for any soul on earth," said Malcom gently. She rose without a word and, putting on her hat and cloak, went out with him. They walked out of the yard, and then, after a moment of hesitation, they turned and went down the Aarrow board sidewalk toward the main street of the town. Carver was entirely sober now. He was naturally a man of great muscular endurance. Malcom bad kept his physical training in bis work with the young men in tbe cburcb. Not a word was said. They realized that the time was short, and they ran witb their unconscious, heavy burden between them. She stood by the buggy and laid her thin, worn band on Malcom's arm. As be looked at lt he thought of some old verses he had read while in the seminary about a mother's hands: Not D11 the ladies in all the land*, With riches and title* and fame. Could boast of such beautiful, ihapeljr hand* Aa one that I could name. *b. ■Jk Philip was silent after that during the rest of the drive. He lay with his eyes closed, and Malcom did not think it wise to talk any more to him, but a continual prayer went out of his heart for anotffer sheep gone astray. • N * 1 "Look there! The church Is on fire!" The church and parsonage stood at the opposite end of the town from the prairie fire, and the danger had been the least In that quarter. That part of the town had been entirely deserted while the fight had been going on at the other end. Together with all this work in the town Malcom was constantly sent for to speak In the district schoolhouses. His reputation as a temperance talker was growing. He often went out during the week and spoke to crowded houses, returning late at night "You won't give him up, wili yov time now, but I called to tell you t was out at the Parker district night, and the men out there warn to come over, tomorrow or next nlf you can. They've" never beard I'm sure you could do some real work there. It's needed bad enC The neighborhood is made up of y ranchmen who nearly all drink. I: can go, 1 can send word by one o men who are driving out there thl ernoon." "Tell him I'll go tomorrow," Malcom In a low voice. "All right Oh, by the way, "I am perhaps," continued Malcom, "the most interested person in this whole matter. It Is my church that has been burned and my home that has been destroyed. And yet I say to you men that if you attempt to use violence toward 'Big Jake' -or any other saloou keeper on the ground of this circumstantial evidence and take the law Into your own hands I will defend him from such violence at the risk of my own life. Let us act like men in this matter—like men who see further than personal vengeance and are determined that our fight shall be directed not against the saloon keeper so much as against the business he represents. That Is what we want to fight tor In behalf of all our homes and churches and our state and country." It was almost 11 o'clock. Nearly all the Btores were closed, but every saloon was wide open. As they went by one of the largest on the first business corner two or three men near the door recognized Kirk and touched their hats, saying very respectfully as they did so, "Good evening, Mr. Kirk." sanwhlle men, women and children organised in a desperate effort to D the town. There was one fact in r favor. It had been the custom Jiose living on the edge of the town icket their animals out on the pralnear by. The grass was cropped t on this account Under any orry circumstances this fact would i insured safety from any usual When they drove up to the house at "The Forks," Mrs. Barton came running out She helped Malcom lift Philip Into the house, and as the boy was being lowered upon a bed he reached up his arms and put them/ about his mother's neck. The poor woman sank on her knees and with her face burled on the breast of her boy sobbed out her heart's joy at his homecoming. When Kirk was ready to return to Conrad, she held his hand, reluctant to have him go. Her hand* were without a jeweled ring, And the finger* were thin and old. Bat a baby's fingers would round them cling, More precious than solid gold. All this and more crowded Into Malcom's mind as he stood there that night by the ruins of his church and home. The same thoughts were also in the mind of Dorothy, and with it all It seemed, too, as if to both of them came a half suppressed doubt as to the course Malcom was on the point of taking. "If the church goes, the parsonage will go, too," thought Malcom, as be and Dorothy ran through the street It was during his absence from Conrad on one of these schoolhouse campaigns that one evening four letters came to him, and Dorothy opened them, as Malcom had always asked her to do, in order that answers might be sent in case he was detained from home several days at a time. My mother has passed this earth away. To the land where death cannot be. But I'll never forget her at she lay. Hands clasped in prayer lor me. They were old verses that some one had translated hastily from a German text, but Maicoin remembered them, and they came to him vividly Just now. "Of course I believe he is worth saving," said Maleom. When they reached the parsonage, the roof had already caught from a flying timber blown off the church tower. The water of the town was exhausted. The well In the parsonage yard was already nearly empty. Malcom rushed Into the bouse and by desperate work, helped by several other men, succeeded In carrying out some furniture and a few of his books. "Good evening, gentlemen," replied Malcom, touching his hat He passed on with Dorothy, but with all the Inner conflict going on she had time to think of the little incident and say to herself proudly, "Even the loafers and drinkers respect my husband." re. But the whole prairie was aflame, rerything was as dry as two months ' drought and hot winds could make , and water for a long time had been ?ry scarce In wells and cisterns. Back all that advancing line of fire was a ■alrie gale that shot the flaines night forward, and old settlers, some ! whom bad seen the great fires in Da- "Don't you feel that we have tried our best to keep that promise we made that night In the church?" Dorothy asked, as she nervously pushed her foot against one of the stones at the corner of the foundation. The first letter was from the superintendent of the Home Missionary society and read as follows: Kirk"—the super! nte on, bat he turned back a step—"It ma: little to hear what I of Va" ■ ■ mer i and h don't "Heaven bless you, Mr. Kirk. I owe you more than 1 can tell. The fire carried off o*r grain stacks In the field out there, and we lost several of our sheds, but I would gladly go out into the world a beggar If Phil would only turn to God and give up the drink. And you and Mrs. Kirk have your great burden. I am selfish to add mine to it" And It was true, because they knew In their hearts that Malcom Klrk loved them, wretched, useless creatures as many of them were, down at the very bottom of the human scale, down where nothing but love could reach them. Mrs. Barton looked up to him again appeallngly. Bev. Malcom Kirk, Con rid. Kan.: One of the boxes In Dorotty's room was blazing as he carried it out and threw it over, and a pile of papers in a portfolio was scattered. Dorothy, as she worked helping to carry some pieces of furniture to a place of safety, felt something blow against her face, and, putting up her hand, she caught a piece of paper. Dear Brother—It Is with great regret that the society la compelled to announce to many of tne Malcom did not answer at first Then he said evasively, as if he had been thinking of something else, "I'm sure 1 can do as much with my pen as I can In a church." "You wont give him up, will yon?" brethren who are on the frontier "No; I won't give him up," replied Malcom, but be hardly seemed to realize what the words meant Was be not planning to go away from all this burden bearing? Had be not already written the letter accepting the place where be would be free to use bis pen without this constant struggle to help the lives of others In this personal contact with them? He got down off the box after be had spoken and appealed In a quiet but powerful manner to some of the more Influential men in the crowd not to let the men act lawlessly. His speech and appeal had their effect A small group of men on the edge of the crowd gathered farther up the street and after Kirk had gone home they marched up to "Big Jake's" saloon, only to find it closed and the proprietor fled. that, owing to • lack of tun da in the New York treasury, it will be impoaaibie to forward the quarter*a salary when due. It is with the greatest possible regret that 1 am obliged to make thia statement, but it ia unavoidable. It la probable there may be a delay of three sr four months before the money can be sent. Meanwhile your church must be urged to do all it can tor your suppoet until the wealthier ckurcbea respond to the special appeal now being sent out by the asctety in behalf of the miasioaariee at the front. I am, your brother, etc. in the early sixties, looked at the t now before them with grave As they went past one of the dancehouses they could hear the jingle of spurs on boots, the wild laughter of the women and the clink of glasses at the bar. Dorothy did not look up or speak for some time. Then she said with rather eager emphasis: othy came to the door of the pare, stood there a moment and then rlth other women, her neighbors, to the main street Kirk. He baa a way church members to bel and if they begin to vol didn't bear any more, t speech ought to be en will never give up thii Mr. Kirk?" "No; we will never plied Malcoca, witl at heart that he hs Mrs. Barton, "No; him [Philip] up." He walked s knew the momen that something u Malcom could never "'Bear ye one another's burdens,'" quoted Malcom and added Instantly, " 'Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.'" So be left her standing there, looking after him, comforted. "Why not write at once to the editor and tell him that you will accept his offer?" Even in the excitement she saw what it was. It was the sketch that Francis Raleigh had drawn on board the Gephalonia three years before, the sketch of Malcom holding the baby. Dorothy sobbed as she saw what It was. Her own baby! And now their home and nearly all the things they counted dear! Dorothy shuddered and drew up closer to Malcom. To both of them it is probable that there was borne In upon them the lost abandoned life that always goes with the liquor trade, the desperate, lawless character of young men and women who represented so large a part of the social life of the town. What a relief It would be to get away from It all, back to the culture and refinement of books and companionable people and the life of freedom from moral struggle for the life of others that awaited them in that New England home that might be theirs for the taking! t lines were being formed from wells and cisterns that were a. She instantly Joined with The second letter that Dorothy opened was from the Church Building society expressing great regret that owing to excessive calls from other fields, the society did not have the funds to spare at present to assist the unfortunate church at Conrad, but hoped to be able to do so'at some future time, etc. They stood a little while longer by the ruins, and then turned away and went home. Somewhere in the great spaces of the infinite to Malcom and Dorothy It almost seemed as If a sigh from an angel of light breathed over the sleeping town that lay on the blackened surface of the prairie. What they felt was the Inner uneasiness of spirit that the promise they had made three years before had been, if not broken, at least not lived out as it might have been. In Maicom's heart as he said to Dorothy, "I will," there was a distinct uncertainty of feeling. There was a lack of spontaneous joy at his action which he knew well enough meant that somewhere he had not been true to the best that was In him. "I will," said Malcom In a low tone. CHAPTER XII. THE BATTLE FOB PBOHIBITION. itben in handing the water. A company of men armed with wet i to whip out the fire began to as far from the bouses as they L It was too late now to plow treaks and too windy to make a fire. The only hope that any one He went back to Conrad and faced the situation there with a courageous heart and an outward cheerfulness for Dorothy's sake more than anything else. There was no attempt on the part of either of them to disguise the fact that the prospect before them was one that would try all their Christian courage and faith. The winter was coming on, the crops bad been almost a total failure owing to the hot winds, and the little boom of which Wilson bad spoken in his letter had collapsed, leaving the town in a wjweked condition financially. The fields that bad been plauted to corn stood dry and hard, unfit for fall plowing, and even the storm that broke over the town that night was only local and had no farreaching result on the general situation.CHAPTER X. DOROTHY PROVK8 HERSELF A HELPMEET. All the way back to Conrad his mind was at war. He knew deep down in his soul that be bad no joy In the change he had planned to make. He knew well enough that his call to the ministry did not mean a ministry with the pen, but with the voice and in the personal, living, hand to band tonch with humanity.- Next day Malcom Kirk had the melancholy pleasure of taking Philip Barton out to "The Forks." He bad recovered sufficiently to be moved, and Malcom borrowed a spring wagon and placed him in it comfortably. He complained of feeling queer in his back, and the doctor told Kirk before he started that It would not be at all unexpected If Barton should be paralyzed. "In fact Mr. Kirk, my examination makes It almost certain that the boy will probably never recover so as to use the lower part of bis body. It seems probable that the wheels of the hay wagon passed over him after be fell out" r n« It was over soon, and In a little while the church and parsonage, the work of many a weary struggle for their little company of disciples, were dreary heaps of ruin. A hard fight on the part of the wornout citizens bad kept the other houses from being burned. The church and parsonage bad stood In a large lot by themselves. he was that the shortness of the grass the town would check the fury of idranclng whirlwind of flame. lave you Been Mr. Kirk?" Dorothy Dorothy hesitated before she opened the next letter, and la spite of her effort at self control a tear fell with a hot splash on the envelope. She knew only too well what a real disappointment the letters she had already opened would be to Malcom. He knew It when be said to Dorothy there by the ruins, "I wlIL" (He knew it as he pained the letter that even now he supposed had started on its eastward Journey. He knew it as he felt the touch of the sorrowful mother's band on arm. And so reasoning or self persuasion could convince him otherwise or satisfy him that he had made a decision that his conscience could approve. He took out the letter tl had given back to him and to Dorothy. as she first Joined the others. 1 they told her. Her face blanched i her lips breathed a prayer as she rked on silently. She knew that be om she never loved as she loved They had walked through the street awl were out on the prairie road before either of them said a word. "It has not been mailed. I dou It ever ought to be," he said tin but-his face was pale, and his lip C ered under his Intense excitement he was stirred deeply by the even the day. "What does it mean?" Dorothy a as she took the letter, looking at com and letting the letter tall : her hand upon the table near w she had been sitting. "It means—I think—yes, I am It means that * * " ■ " ther my heart real joy in the work here. D without seemluS church, to the cl. friends here, to be j away from my duty ship. I cannot pers the Lord wants me tC pen. I know as well me with an audibl wants me to speak close contact with th burdens near by, to b tude in the struggle t Especially I do not d conviction within mC stay by the temperance flght In Ki just now. The Lord has seen lit ti me to his glory In this great c " the cause of home and nati Dorothy, If I were only rich! ] had the means to give you tv ought to have.1" "After all," Bald Malcom when It was all over, as be sat down by Dorothy on a trunk while a little group of neighbors stood by discussing the Incidents of the fire, "after all, dear, we hare a good deal to be thankfnl for." Tbe third letter bore a Boston postmark and was from tbe editor of a religious paper. It acknowledged tbe receipt of an article sent by Malcom some two months before and retained It with a view to publication when the press of matter already accepted would permit, etc. Payment for the article would be sent when It was published. Then Malcom said, while he pressed Dorothy's arm close to his own: "What do you think I had better do?" She was not prepared to have him ask a question, and she was not ready with an answer. Nevertheless in the morning he wrote the letter In answer to the editor, ac ceptlng the position and asking him to give him time to sever his relations with the church, etc. "Yes," said Dorothy, with a smile. It was a little hard for her as she sat there to imagine that Dorothy Oilbert who once back in-the old New England home had been noted for the elegance and refinement of all her ways and surroundings. Nothing but the great love she bore the man who bad asked her to share his life now made her Insensible to that former life before she was married. The prairie was one vast burned stretch of plain, with the road gray and distinct through it Philip Barton lay back on the cot that bad been arranged In the wagon box and looked up at Malcom with a white, strained face as he drove slowly along over the smooth, elastic prairie road. The doctor bad a patient at the lower end of the town near where they drove In on the way back, and Mai com left him there and started to walk home. As be went ap tbe main street past tbe saloons Carver came staggering out of one of them. It was also a new and In some respects a terrible condition that faced "What would you do In my place?" be asked after waiting for her to answer bis first question. He took the letter and went out earlj after breakfast to mail It. He would hand in his resignation at the weekday church meeting and write to the super intendent later In the day. Dorothy's face flushed with pride at Malcom's success as a writer, and at the same time she could not help feeling that if the editor of that paper only knew how mucb they needed the money be would pay for the article when he accepted it Instead of keeping the author waiting until It appeared In print But she was unfamiliar with the customs of magazines and newspapers In this respect, and she rejoiced, after all, that her husband bad been able to write anything that such a famous paper wanted. "Don't ask me, Malcom," cried Dorothy almost tearfully. He bent his head and In tbe starlight saw her face moved with unusual excitement.The sight of the minister seemed to sober the man a little. He mattered, "How do, Mr. Kirk?" and was shambling on, when he suddenly stopped, as If he bad remembered something, and ran back to Kirk, who had gone sadly on, sick at heart at the sight of him. ▲t first Malcom drove on silently. The boy seemed to be quite comfortable. but unwilling to talk, and during the first two miles hardly a word was spoken. Then Malcom stopped the horses and bent down to arrange some part of the cot. When be had finished and gathered up the lines to go on again, young Barton Bpoke. He was thinking It all over as he neared the main stret, when a farm wagon drove up noisily and stopped near him. iff 1 "It Is true," he began to talk to himself, "It is true, as he says, tbe press is as powerful as the pulpit in these days.' 1 could certainly do as mucb good that way as any. I feel as if I could use my pen for tbe good of humanity."Malcom Kirk sat there gazing at the ruins of his home and his church, and deep down in his heart there was a mighty conflict going on. He had lost his books, nearly all that were of value, and the other losses were great Be was blackened and burned, his clothes hung in ragged rents about him, his great fists were bleeding, and here beside him was the woman who had left all for—what? To share such privations, dangers, losses? "Oh, Mr. Kirk, will you come right out to 'The Forks' with me? Phil is in a terrible way and has been calling for you all night!" "Something of yours, Mr. Kirk. Letter you gave me to keep. No trouble to keep it Glad to do favor," Carver stammered, his drunken brain proud of his apparent service to the minister. &\li r . V' C "Yes, yes!" Dorothy cried eagerly. She spoke as If Malcom's words had been a great relief to her. Then she went on almost passionately: It was Mrs. Barton, and her thin, eager face looked down at Malcom as she sat there looking at him anxiously. "You were one of the men that found me and brought me into the town, Mr. Kirk?" The boy had asked It twice before. The last letter also bore a Boston postmark, and after reading the letter Dorothy laid It down and rose to walk tbe little room, while her cheeks burned with excitement and her eyes flashed with a light that had not been seen in them for many days. The letter read: Into Malcom Kirk's heart there came a distinct shock, almost as If he had been detected in doing a selfish thing. Here again was this appeal for help coming at a time when It seemed to him as if tbe burden he was carrying was too great for him. "What can you do here, Malcom? You can slave yourself to death out here with this little church and never accomplish much. You cannot do the church work and the writing too. You will break down under it. How can you ever build again, with the hard times and so many families moving away and winter coming on? And your salary, little as It is, so cruelly delayed, it is a humiliation to keep on this narrow, pinched life, with no companionship to speak of, no money to buy new books, with a dead lift on a poor struggling church that will wear your life out before you have reached your prime. I don't mind for myself, Malcom, you know. It was 'for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,' but It seems to me your life will be simply thrown away If you remain out here. Sucb an offer as this will not come to you again probably. If I were you"— He pulled out the letter Kirk had given him and banded it over. Malcom _ took it mechanically without a word. Carver stared at him, and as Kirk walked away be scratched bis head and muttered: "Yes," replied Malcom, smiling. "You can't imagine what a great Joy It was to me when we found you." For a moment he hardly heard what some of bis parishioners were saying. They had been talking excitedly together."And Carver was the other man?" "Yes." My Dor Mr. Kirk—For several month* ws kite been considering your name In connection with a vacancy on our editorial board and have at last decided unanimously to aak you to assume the place of assistant under the chief editor of the magarlne We have been led to this decision by our knowledge of your work on tb« German scholarship three years ago and also from • perusal of several articles recently written by you and printed is tbe Boston Review. In addition to this we know of your work in Conrad through Mr. Wilson, your old seminary classmste, who last year was on our board for s time. Ws msks you this offer and hope you will see your way to accept. The salary will be $2,000 a year, with opportunity of increase. The press la as powerful ss the pulpit In these days, and you may be sure your usefulness will not be or lessened by making this change. your reply, hoping it will be favorable to ua. ran with their unconeeiout burden between them. "That seems queer to me. How did he happen to go with you?" «Weli I don't know exactly. He seemed eager to go." He looked up at Mrs. Barton. "Something wrong with the minister evidently." He shook his head in perplexity and finally zigzagged into a saloon to see If he could clear up the mystery with a fresh drink. "Mr. Kirk, we are of the opinion that this fire was incendiary." "How is that?" asked M£leomD rousing up a (Ittle. "Why, certainly, I'll go right out with you," he said, every Instinct of helpfulness in him rising and going out toward the cry for help. i at that moment was in the line of y, and she wonld not have called I back from ft. But her heart cried for help, and she agonised lor him jin her soul dearly loved. "Was he—had he been drinking?" The question came with evident painful effort The last two sentences were i ly wrung from him as he sa watching Dorothy, who bad list silence, her hands clasped in 1 and her face, Malcom fancied, o 'The first seen of it was in the tower. Now, the fire from the prairie could not possibly have caught up there. Some one must have set it" The poor woman tobb&i out her heart'» joy at hi* homecoming. Just then Carver came walking by. Kirk bad the letter he was going to post in his hand. Malcom thrust the letter down Into bis pocket and walked on like one in a dream. He went by the postofflce without looking up. He met several of bis parishioners and answered their good day absently. He was going over the struggle he had experienced when his baby died, only this was a new form of It. Now Dorothy was tbe person be was thinking of most He was in tbe habit of making up bis own mind quickly. If he ever did anything that his whole soul could not rejoice in, be felt suspicious of it; he felt suspicious of his whole motive now in leaving Conrad. And Philip Barton, was that soul laid on him to rescue? Was it true that he must assume the salvation of that particular individual and count him one of the lost souls he had really pledged himself to save? And this letter that had come back to him, was he to take the event as a leading of the Spirit and Interpret it all to mean that he was not to send It after all? But Dorothy, how could he ask ber to lead the life of hardship she must lead If they remained in this Home Missionary field? After he had gone over all the ground for going or leaving be came back to that final question. And came the great wall of fire and "Yes, I think he had," replied Malcom frankly. "But he was sober enough when we found you." Dorothy. For the first time In her life She knew that she was poor. Malcom Kirk had never known anything else. Poverty was a heritage to him, and while It was full of discomfort and privation It had no terror. But Dorothy bad for tbe first time on coming to that Home Missionary field felt the touch of grim and stern economy. Her little dowry saved from the wreck of her father's failure had been added to Malcom's small salary, but the Illness of the baby and tbe constant calls on their help from various sources had eaten into this little fund, and It was gone. Dorothy's aunt would gladly have helped, but her own resources were shortened by business failures within the three years that Dorothy had been west. Now the loss of the parsonage with nearly everything it contained was added to all the rest. "Say, Carver, will you mall this letter for me as you go by the office?" Malcom asked, and Carver eagerly took the letter, more than willing to do Mr. Kirk a favor. ■moke. The hot air scorched the faces of the fire fighters. Dim figures oat on " « advance line were seen desperately ruggllng with the element. The town as enveloped In smoke and burned jt ashes of prairie grass that sifted m P* worker* until the faces and inds of all were black and grimy, cores of men rushed upon -the fire line i it came on, checked some by the ort grass, and stamped ont the me with tbelr feet, with rags, with { brooms, ljitfl pieces of carpeting d bedding torn from tbelr own uses. The outstanding line of flgbti was forced back, burned and ex- U8ted, but the fire had been checked, d as It broke out in new places fresh oups threw themselves upon It and ught for the life of the town. Dorothy could not remember how e came to be with the fighters on the alrle Instead of with the water carDrs, but it was undoubtedly her anxy for Malcom's safety that urged r out toward the fire. Her dress bad ught on fire and been put out several nes. Some one had thrown water er her, but she had hardly known it ie worked with all the others In a s(r »t frensy- Suddenly sbe was conions of a tall, awkward figure pear looming up through the smoke, shing at the fire with powerful ena very incarnation of resistance) " * "xDrn refusal to surrender, m!" she cried, And, faint as sbe felt pew life at tbe sight Then different ones began to whisper tbelr suspicions. There was silence, and Malcom gathered up the lines again and started on. The day was very still, and there was a great cloud coming up in the southwest which promised rain before night. For the first and last time in his llfar le was deceived In Dorothy. She suddenly lifted her head and imlled, while her eyes filled with tears. "Do you think, do you think, Malcom, that I could ever be proud of you again, ever feel satisfied if yon acted a part that was not true to your convictions T Do you think I married you for your money?" next day. while Malcom and Dorothy were staying with one of fhfi church members who took tbem intq (its home, the rumor grew that the fire was the work of the whisky meq. Malcom at once got up Into the wagon with Mrs. Barton, and they drove out of town rapidly. Carver stood watching them a moment, then be turned and went on down the street. At the first saloon he hesitated, but finally went in. Before noon he had gone into three or four different saloons that lay between him and the postofflce, and the letter remained in his pocket forgotten. Here followed the name of a person who was at the bead of one of the most Influential papers published in New England. Dorothy knew well enough how much Malcom thought of tbe man and bow often he had expressed his admiration for the character of his literary work. Down on the street excited groups of men gathered that evening, discussing the matter. Every one knew that Malcom Kirk had fought the saloons from (be uret dajr or bis eqtrance into uob fad. Re was feared and bated by tbem more than any one else. He had succeeded to a large degree In getting the otber churches to act together in the agitation now going on all over tbe state. He was already noted for bis leadership throughout tbe county and bad written and spoken on every possible occasion for tbe proposed prohibitory amendment. "It was a great thing for you to do," said Philip slowly. "I'll never forget It, Mr. Kirk." "It was a very little tbing, my boy, compared with what was done fur uie jnee," said Maleom gravely. "What was that?" She stopped, and Malcom eagerly waited for the rest. "I always knew you never married me for my good looks," replied Malcom, with a smile tbat revealed inward Joy, "and you certainly did not marry*' me for my money, for I told you at the time tbat I hadn't any. But, oh, Dorothy, you know how 1 long to do and be everything to you, don't you?" "Yes, I know it very well," Dorothy answered. She bad come over to her husband and the anxious look on hla face had given way to one of relief. "If I tfere you," Dorothy went on strongly, "I would answer the letter at once and accept the offer. I want to see you succeed In life. I want to have the world know your strength as I do." "I was lost once In a great wilderness and surrounded with wild beasts. I was sick and starving and unable to save myself. Night was coming on, •nd every minute added to my danger. Just when I had given myself up as lost and the wild beasts had gathered around me In the growing darkness a friend suddenly appeared. He saved me, but In doing it he lost his own life. That la a good deal more than I did for you." She picked the letter up and read It through again. What was there In Conrad, this wild, unlqterestlng west ern towq, struggling against a flnan clal depression and a future as well as a past failure of crops? How could Malcom ever rise to any place worthy of his powers In this little church, so feeble and so poor? "It Is true," she found herself saying; "It Is true he chose the ministry as his life work, and he has often said he would not do anything else. But"— On their way to "The Forks" Malcom learned from Mrs. Barton that while Philip was on his back, unable to leave his bed, one of the farmer boys living on the next ranch had brought out several bottles of whisky and smuggled them Into the house. The result was that young Barton was having delirium tremens while In the terrible condition caused by his debauch at the time of the great fire. His mother had spent a fearful night with him, and at last, desperate and heartbroken, dry eyed, but weeping her blood away within, she had come Into town for Kirk. He made no reply, and they walked on a little farther. Then Malcom spoke as if again reasoning with himself:"Little woman," said Malcom that evening after he had been to "The Forks," "we have very little left except our good looks, and the balance Is In your favor." So there was reason In tbe suspicion held by tbe citizens. As tbe evening wore on proof of a certain saloon man's guilt seemed almost sure. Two or three persons had seen him coming oui of tbe parsonage yard tha{ afternoon of the fire. A child bad seen the same man on tbe steps of the church a few minutes after Dorothy had left the parsonage."I certainly could do as much good that way as any." He was silent again. They had reached a place where the road branched off to "The Forks." They turned and went back toward the town. When they reached the first houses, they took the street which led past the ruins of the church and parsonage. They seemed to do this without saying to each other that they would. Their walk back had been In silence. Philip had listened Intently. J\nt something In Malcom'a manner kept him silent. They were sitting in the little room kindly offered them by one of their church members and had been talking over the situation with the frankness that had always characterised their married life. She went to the door and stepped out on tfce little porch. It was after 10 o'clock and a frosty night Down the main street she could see the lights from the saloons. There was a brawl going on In front of one of them, but that was common—a group of cowboys galloping down the street, firing their pistols as they came. That was not unusual Dorothy shuddered. What of that promise she had made with Malcom to try to redeem the lost of Conrad? Was It worth while, after all? It would be so much pleasanter to live In Boston. They could have things and live as other reople lived, and after awhile her would become famous, and— Y bis mind was in a tumult "That wilderness where I was lost," continued Malcom softly as bis early life before he entered the seminary came back to him, "was the wilderness of sin, and the wild beasts were my passions, and the friend who saved me was Jesus the Saviour of the lost, wbo gave himself a ransom for many." He was within a block of the house now and still walking on absorbed, when some one touched his arm. He looked up and saw one of his church members, one of the poorest men in his congregation. "I used to read In the qovels," said Dorothy, tvlth a peculiar smile, "about the girl who married the poof but gifted young man and spurned the rich and highborn suitor, but 1 never thought I should be material fur such a story myself." "It Is all of the devil, this drink business!" groaned Malcom as he went Into the house and into the room where Fhll Barton lay. UK. I It waa now 10 o'cloek. The crowd at the corner by the postofflce grew every minute larger and more threatening. Groups of men stood surrounding some speaker who urged lynching as the only satisfactory punishment for such Mprime. The citizens were  fll and nervous from the great strait) or the last two days. When they reached the corner where the church and parsonage had stood, they Btopped and looked at the rulnr "How do you do, Mr. Kirk? Wife and I have been talking over what we could do toward helping on the new church parsonage, and we have concluded to give this as our share." The man handed to Kirk a $10 bllL "We're sorry it isn't ten times as much. Our crops failed, you know, along with the sickness and Jim's death last spring. But we want to do something In memory of the boy. His mother"— The man choked up and did not finish the sentence. Never lp all his life had Malcom Kirk seen such a sight. Barton knew him as he came in, and he spoke his name. Then he began to curse in the most awful manner. The lower part of his body was paralyzed, but his arms moved Incessantly, and his head rolled back and forth on the bed while he called on all hell to blast every living creature on earth. There was not ft particle of cant or attempt fit preaching In what Malcom bad said. It was so slmpfe, so natural, that the boy on the cot hardly realised at first what the minister had said. » These were mournful, as such ruins always are. The foundation line of the church building looked pitifully small to Malcom as he thought of the little congregations that had so often wet there for worship or the prayer service. And still he could not even there, as be viewed what seemed like a failure In life, he could not shnt out of his sight the picture of Dorothy and himself as they had gone Into the church that first night of their arrival in Conrad three years before and had there made together their solemn promise to redeem the lost of Conrad. Were they about to break that promise because difficulties had come Into the struggle? Was It possible that they were going to declare themselves beaten In the attempt to overcome? Were they about to choose the easy, comfortable physical life aud ahun the Malcom looked at her, and deep In his heart there was a battle going on that he hardly dared to analyse. He only knew that he longed somehow to be able to grapple a physical, tangible something grid fight It for Dorothy'a sake and prove to her that be could be more than a poor man. •orothy! Thank God, we got back i him Jnst In time!" »ere was no time to say more. The jer was still great. Near together , husband and wife fought on. The limp of ppargd afterw*rfl JDorp jrifc i to the way lp which they fought lay, did you Bee Mr. Kirk?" A ip of men at the postofflce, several i after the great fire, were talking rer. !"hese New gland folks beat eyother kind wWn it domes to »evef Malcom Kirk came down town late that night to get the mall from the east bound express and walked into the mob Just as cries of "Lynch the firebug!" rose from many voltes. As spot) as the crowd saw lilm it surrounded him excitedly. i -fc.  -51*^—. and as this i .be used for many disor. mafism.' Jtoughl foI When It dawned upon him that Malcom had spoken of his own conversion, be closed his eyes, and his fape twitched under his emotion. When he looked up agfln, Malcom had turned and was looking down at him. "Well little woman, won't you take cold out here?" Malcom put Mrs. Barton out of the room and shut the door. Then for three hours he spent the most trying period he had ever known by the side of a suffering and sinful human being. At the end of that time Barton lay quiet, and Malcom was weak and trembling, wet with perspiration and unnerved as If he had been facing some great peril. The doctor came Just as Malcom went to tell Mrs. Barton that Philip was sleeping. She had not been_able to find any physician when "Malcom," Dorothy said as she came over and sat down on a stool near by and put her hands in his great brown palm, looking \ip at bis sober, anxious face—"Makom. once for all. If I need to Bay It, I am not afraid of being poor. 1 trust you. You do not thiuk I will add to your burden by being weak at such a time as this? Was It not through sickness and health, for better, for worse, that I vowed to give you all 1 have and am until death do "That was a good sermon you gave us, Mr. Kirk, last Sunday. It did us a world of good. We're praying for you at our house. God bless your work among us." we've proof that 'Big Jake'pSnlre to your church." "Do you mind if we pray here?" said Malcom. ' It was Malcom. and he led her Into the bouse again. She bad not seen him come. He had unexpectedly finished his engagement and been able to return much sooner than he expected. Malcom looked over the crowd a moment In silence. lie had not been thinking so much about the loss of bis chnrch and parsonage as he came down town as about Dorothy and his future prospects. But the sight and sound of that ragb of citizens bronght his mind back the situation not In the Philip moved his head, and in his eyes a look of expectant wonder grew. Malcom stopped the horses. The prairie was wide and desolate and black, not a sign of life anywhere; the atmosphere was still; the sun shone over It all; the town lay distinct in the rear distance. And somehow It seemed as -v fighting the devil. Onr m s all the rest at that," rho spoke of Kirk as \ although be had never been r of mum church and rarely She saw as be came in that he was very tired, but was making a brave eft fort to appear cheerful and contented. She hesitated about showing him the letters, but he bad already seen the juwq envelope* on tfce table, and hift The man was gone, and Malcom stood there holding the money, and it was impossible for liim to prevent his mind from trying to guess by what self denial, hardship, sacrifice, that $10 bad been saved. It was a little thing, ties. ly 88 J Cuton v". ; /.-V; •. -7