Conversion of a High Priest into a Christian Worker Part 5

"I had thought it definitely settled that you were to a.s.sist me, and on the strength of that belief I have made several important changes in my business with the view of affording a proper position for you. Your decision declining to accept it will inconvenience me not a little.

"With all due consideration for your religious beliefs, I feel it my duty as your father, John, to express my disappointment of the profession you at present seem inclined to adopt. However you are entering man's estate, and it is for you to decide as to your career. I shall, however, insist upon one thing: that you take a good vacation before making your final decision.

"If, upon your return you are of the same mind, I shall not oppose you, although to speak frankly, John, I am not a little disappointed.

"Anyway a good western trip will greatly benefit you, and I shall not be at all surprised if on your return your conception of your duty has undergone important modifications." As if signifying that he desired to discuss the subject no farther, Mr. Davis rose and left the room.

Keenly feeling his father's disappointment and displeasure, John instinctively turned to his mother for sympathy. Mrs. Davis stepped to his side and with a fond caress said:

"Thank G.o.d you have made this choice; I shall do all in my power to help you."

"Thank you, mother dear. I believe you understand me, and know how sincere is my desire to do what I can for my fellow men.

"I do so long to lead some of them to Christ; for many are wandering in darkness, just waiting for some one to reach them a helping hand.

"In deference to father's wishes I shall take a vacation; though it can by no possibility alter my determination. On my return I shall begin active work without delay.

"I have education enough to preach the simple truths of G.o.d's love. I wish to preach to sinners, not to saints. I shall ask no salary and have no denomination. My Church will be Christ."

After tenderly embracing his mother, during which the souls of mother and son united in a prayer to the Most High, John bade her "Good night"

and retired.

The following week found John on his way to South Dakota, his plan being to make his first stop of any length at Aberdeen.

He arrived there at night and the following morning mounted his bicycle for a trip through the surrounding country.

It was a new world to him. His first thought was: how splendid the roads were for wheeling, they seemed even better than the paved streets of the city.

He cast his eyes over his surroundings. On all sides was the vast expanse of prairie, ending only in the horizon--the fields of gra.s.s and grain, moving in the wind like the waves of the sea; overhead the blue sky, stretching out in a dome unbroken by hill or forest. The sun above him seemed to shine with a brighter splendor than he had before known.

The beauties of nature filled the soul of this city-bred youth with wonder and admiration.

He rode on and on.

At one moment the joyous song of a lark captivated him; at another, the capering of some colts, or a sleek herd of cattle quietly grazing in a nearby pasture attracted his attention; or a colony of prairie gophers which dived excitedly into their burrows at his approach, amused him with their antics.

At last he began to wonder how far he had gone.

Seeing nearby a large, well kept farm-house, he rode up to it, to procure such rest and refreshment as it might afford him, before undertaking his long ride back to town.

His knock at the door was answered by a beautiful girl, apparently about fifteen years of age. John explained his errand to her, and requested such courtesies as could be granted without putting the people of the house to undue inconvenience.

The girl expressed her regrets that her parents were away in town, but saying that she expected them home very soon, she invited him in, and ushered him into a cool, s.p.a.cious sitting-room.

Mutual introductions followed and John learned that the name of his fair young hostess was Lily Long, "but," said she, with a slight blush, "father calls me the Queen of the Prairie."

They visited together for some little time, until Lily, exclaiming that her father and mother were coming, went out to greet them.

Left to himself, John glanced around him.

An old-fashioned piano stood in one corner of the room. He noted also an ample, well filled book-case at one end of the room.

"Music, books, and Prairie Queen. If this is a typical example of country life, I must say that I rather like it."

Mr. and Mrs. Long greeted him heartily and gave him a cordial invitation to stay to dinner--an invitation which he gratefully accepted.

And what a dinner it was; vegetables fresh gathered from the garden in abundance; fried chicken prepared as only a farmer's wife can prepare it; and the countless other good things which go to make dinner on the farm. To this dinner John brought an appet.i.te sharpened by his brisk morning ride; he did full justice to the tempting viands, nor could he remember so thoroughly enjoying a dinner before.

Everything on the farm was so clean and well arranged that John began to wish he could board there instead of in town during the remainder of his visit; so when they had adjourned to the sitting-room, he informed Mr.

Long of his wish, and asked if it were possible.

"But before you answer me," he added, "I should like to make myself better known to you."

Then he told them of his father and mother, of his own youth, and of his college life. A natural question on the part of Mr. Long as to what brought him so far West led to an explanation from John, who presently found himself telling his new-found friends his future plans and ambitions.

"My boy," said Mr. Long, reaching out his hand, "I honor you for your choice. You are welcome to share our home as long as you care to stay."

Mrs. Long wiped her eyes as she pressed John to stay with them, for she thought of her own son whom G.o.d had called home.

Lily must have been thinking of him too, for she said: "I am glad you are going to stay, for then I can play you are my brother."

"I certainly shall be proud to be your brother," John answered gallantly.

That evening when the family gathered for prayers, Lily took her seat at the old piano. Then John realized why they called her "Queen," for never had he heard such a magnificent voice, so sweet, so soft, and so full of feeling. It seemed as though she carried them nearer Heaven with her song.

Before John retired he wrote to his mother, telling her of the home he had found, and of "The Queen of the Prairie." This rather amused Mrs.

Davis, for hitherto, John had had little to say in praise of young ladies, although he was a favorite among them.

The summer pa.s.sed merrily on, and John's vacation was drawing near its close, when one morning he received a telegram telling him that his mother was dangerously sick. The message filled him with anxious foreboding, and he quickly prepared to return home at once.

Tears were on Mrs. Long's cheeks as she helped him pack, for she had not realized before to what an extent John had taken her own boy's place in her heart. His own eyes were moist as he bade her farewell, promising to return as soon as possible.

Mr. Long was ready with a team to drive him to town, and Lily was standing beside her father. She raised a tear-stained face to him, and said: "Goodbye, dear brother, we shall miss you."

John was not ashamed of his own tears, for this little girl who called him "Brother," had grown dearer to him than all the world. He stooped and reverently kissed her snow white brow, then sprang in the buggy and was gone.

When John reached home, his father met him at the door. Mr. Davis' face was ghastly pale; he had grown old with grief.

John's eyes asked the question his lips could not frame.

"She still lives, but the doctor says she cannot last long," said his father in answer to his son's mute appeal.

"She is paralyzed. She will probably recognize you, but she can neither speak nor move."

Without speaking John went to his mother's bedside, and saw that this was indeed true. His mother lay as one dead. A faint spark of recognition showed in her fast dimming eyes as he approached but other signs of life there were none.

Overcome with grief, John stood motionless at the bedside.

Then in agony he turned to Him who faileth not, he fell on his knees and prayed reverently for his mother's recovery.