BACK TO LIFE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2026, 22 December 1892, Page 17

BACK TO LIFE.

Specially Written for the Witness Christmas * Number of 1892.

By LUCILLA.

Tbe day is Sapday. The weather is In keeping with the.day— a literal "day of the sun " as one of ppr German cousins so nicely puts it}. It is early autumn. We have just arrived at a little suburban church. Sol ahines very fiercely through the western wiudow and plays fantastically through the open dpor, dancing all' manner of sunbeam polkas and ma?urkas on the walls, such as children love to watch. We are almost the first corners, and gaze abstractedly at the people sauntering in one by one. It is just a very ordinary Influx, and nothing noteworthy haa occurred, if we except the solemn entrance of a dog, who came in with more reverential demeanour than many of the Christians. He walked leisurely and slowly into several pews, evidently looking for a beloved owner. Being unsuccessful in his quest he returns, and takes up a recumbent position in the porch. Faithful creatures I Ay ! the dog sets man a noble example of fidelity^ From the dog my mind in one moment travels over thousands of miles of space. I -cannot say why (for it is impossible to analyse the workings of one's mind) my thoughts fly to distant prisms on this bright gladsome day, with the church door open wide, both north and south, suggesting freedom and liberty in its fullest sense. But I am thinking very pitifully at this moment of the unfortunate men and women on whom tbe bolts and bars of this world's justice are drawn, some of whom only get the beautiful sun's rays through gratings — one oan't call them windows. Oh, God, what living tombs are theirs ! Pity and restrain othera from doing deeds that will bring them to this wretched pass. Thinking of these, my looks are transfixed by the entry of a tall elderly man, who comes in with erect bearing. He is one of those whom I pictured just now as among the incarcerated. His long term has but half expired, and he is here. " It is Mr ," I whisper in the very softest of toDes to my husband when he had passed us. My husband turns at the Bame moment to me with the same wcrds on bis lips, only that bis words were uttered as an announcement, whereas mine had taken the form of a question.

The objeQt of interest takes his seat In a free pew to the Bide of us, a little in advance, but in such a position that I can observe him without attracting any attention. I'm sure it is not curiosity, but rather a tender sympathy that induces me to watch him, and in watching as I do and thinking over the past events in his history I get into a very deep train of thought. I seem able to read his thoughts by this time. My very intensity of sympathy, if so I may call it, has laid his mind bare and open before it. That mind is now photographing itself on mine. These are the current thoughts : " Who was that man who came in last 1 He seems to know me too. Here comes Mr H . Dear me, how heavily the- seven years have dealt with him. Am las much changed I wonder? Would to God my appearance had undergone a thorough transformation 1 How the people do stare to be sure ! I might as well have taken my own seat in the front, after all, for they all see me as they enter and take a deliberate survey. Or is it my imagination? Bah.'I'm sensitive to-night. I wonder if half the people here know who is occupying this pew. Who, do I say ? A criminal, a gaol bird. Ha 1 and the worst criminal in tho affair got off with one year. Never, talk to me of human justice again 1 God be me merciful to me a sinner; Lord, thou knowest to what extent I have been to blame in the matter 1

" Can that be little Miss Murphy, grown up from a lassie of 15 (when last I saw her) into that lovely woman? I think it must be. She would be about two and twenty now. Yes, I'm right, there is Mrs M. in her wake just tbe same as ever — not a day older. Women of a certain ago seem to stand still for 10 or 15 years, and then they go down the hill with a rush. Tbat is surely old Hassell. Fancy him being in the • land of the living' still. Poor old fellow ; we were great chums. I wonder if he will give me the cold shoulder 7 I expected he would have joined the 'great majority' ere this, whereas many a young and promising life has gone before him. Truly the ways of God are past finding out ! •• The sun's dancing beams "are gradually ceasing. The organ strikes up. Is it the , same organ, or does it sound singularly beautiful to-night from its long silence to ears that adore music 7

"A file of people come leisurely in. Yes, father, mother, sons, and a daughter—and everyone looke deliberately at me. I might have known it would be so. I could bear it better if Mary were by my side. Poor old girl 1 when I asked her to come to ohurch with me she assented quite gleefully. She thought I was going to a strange ohurch where no -one would recognise us. When she found out I was setting forth for our own familiar place of worship, heir lip quivered, and she Baid slowly and with an effort :

" ' After all, Will, if you don't mind I must stay at home and write that long letter I was talking about. 1 " I knew the cause of the change in hexplans, and I offered to attend the church least known to us. She playfully turned off my suggestion, asking how that would affect her letter-writing. ' I'll come with you nexfc Sunday, dear.' " Poor Mary I she wouldn't hurt the feelings of a fly much less of a human being, and that being her husband 1 " Whyever is the service so long In starting ? Why doesn't the ground Bwallow me up or something. Half of the congregation are quite straDgers to me. That is one thing to be thankful for after all.

"The service has actually begun now. The minister looks scarcely a day older than when — when I was here last. The refined, kindly tones of his voice are unaltered. I wonder if he will see me from this distance 1 Will he think my presence here to-night an act of bravado or of moral courage? I should like him to think well of me if no one else does. Those are pleasant-faced young ladies in the pew ahead. One of them is more than pleasant. She has the face of one of the ' Madonnas ' I caw in Rome. Surely I know the faces too ? Why, I believe they are the minister's daughters grown up. Can that be little Ella who was so chummy with me as a child?

" A tiny boy and girl now oome in, and walk straight into the pew. The little girl nestles confidently by my side. She is finding the hymn with all the pride of eight years' world's experience. Having found ifc she glanceß at the unused hymn book before me Theyarebeginningtosing. She stretches out her little, fat, pink hand shyly and finds my hymn for me, presenting the book with a pretty shy blush. Sweet child. Her action and the familiar hymn ' Rock of ages ' are altogether too much for me. Tears— two large tears for the first time since my mother died — course my cheeks. Dear little child I Will she be as frank and kind seven years hence ? Would she not even now shuddei if she knew I had just come out of gaol ? " ' Reck of agea cleft for me 1 ' I've thought of this hymn' often in' the late Blow drawn-out years. Ah ! there Is no rock so dependable as thai. The little girl at my side is falling asleep. Her dear trusting head is even now falling limp against my shoulder. There is one in the outer world that trusts me as I am, and in tbe blessed assurance of that trust I feel stronger to begin my new life." . . . Has my own brain been dormant, my own eara deaf? Have the foregoing been my thoughts, or hit, or both ? r ihe service haa ended, and the lovely verse sung at the conclusion, " Lord keep us safe this night," Has left us with a comfortable feeling of a presiding watchful care. We leave the ivycovered church to enter a new. week's work strengthened and refreshed. I pray atf earnest short petition that the able discourse from our dear pastor's lips to-night may specially have brought comfort to one who has been virtually dead for seven long years, and that it may "enable him to set forth in the fight of life and so to fight, that by the aid of a Higher Power, he wins a victory, and never ceases to regret the day when ho returned " back to If e."

— A gentleman was deeply in love. He met the object of his affections one evening at a crowded ball, and, as he could not find an opportunity of talking to her, he contrived to slip into her hand a piece of paper with the words, " Will you 7 " written upon it. The reply was equally brief ; " Won/* I!"