The Parson's Romance.

Observer, Volume XV, Issue 814, 4 August 1894, Page 4

The Parson's Romance.

' His ways are wondrous,' said the parson, as we sat together one evening in bis study over our cigars and toddies. ~ - I am a staunch churchman, and the parson and I are great friends ; in fact I am his warden, and the firm advocate of his suggestions at all vestry meetings. He is a capital fellow, full of robust manhood, and possessing a very nice humour of his own. .' When I was first ordained — and that is a long time ago,' said the parson, ' I was sent out as the rector of a parish in a mining district in Nevada. Tne life was new ana strange, of course, and I fear I was rather fresh — ahem 1 lacking in, the knowledge of the world, and especially unacquainted with the manners and customs of my parishioners. ' I was young at the time, and very fond of out door sports and amusements, especially those of the rod and gun. The game was not very plentiful in that section of the country, so I was greatly delighted, one autumn, to be invited to join a party of gentlemen who were going to Wyoming for a shooting vacation of a fortnight or three weeks' duration. ' The party consisted, with one exception, of members of my congregation — that is, of the husbands of members ; the exception was a singularly gentleman-like man, to whom through an oversight, I was not introduced. I heard the others call him Tom and Thomas, oftener Thomas than Tom, so came to the conclusion that the former was his patronymic appellation, and I so addressed him. The party was a very jovial one, and most agreeable to me, although I noticed a tendency to play practical jokes. 'It was evening when we had finished making camp. We had eaten our supper, and were sitting about the fire smoking and discussing plans for the sport which we expected. Mr Thomas had withdrawn from the party, and was, I fancy, indulging in a nap, when the judge remarked — the district judge was of the party — that it was a capital night for killing snipe — there was no moon, and it was quite dark. ' Killing snipe ?' said I ; ' I was not aware that snipe were ever shot at night.' ' Quite right you are, parson,' said the judge. ' Not shot, but bagged.' 'You must remember that I was very green — ahem ! innocent of the ways of the country, so I was not greatly surprised when I was informed that a bright light attracted snipe, and that they could thus be decoyed into a sack. ' One word brought on another, until it was proposed that we should sally forth and literally bag enough of the succulent birds for the morrow's breakfast. The proposition was hailed with enthusiasm, and — with the exception of Mr Thomas — we all started out upon the expedition. I was quite weary and much confused as to the locality, when at last a suitable place was found. The mouth of a sack was propped open by means of a couple of sticks, and two lighted candles were placed in front of the opening. 1 " Now," said the judge, "let us separate, and, after moving back for a quarter of an hour, reform in a large circle, gradually closing in toward the sack, thus driving the birds toward the light." ' In compliance with these directions, we were about to start off, I very weary and reluctant, when someone said : " Hold on ; somebody must stay with the bag." ' " You are not used to driving, parson," said another, " and had better remain." '" Simply stand here," said the judge, " and when you see a snipe enter the bag, catch him and wring his neck." ' It seemed the easiest part of the work, so I remonstrated on that account, but my scruples were overruled, and soon I was standing alone. ' The ground was wet and muddy, and, attracted by the light, myriads of gnats and mosquitoes came humming about me. At first, the novelty of the situation was interesting ; but, as time passed and no birds came, I grew restless and uncomfortable. '" Poor sport," thought I, as I brushed away the mosquitoes. I bent over to the light and looked at my watch. Half-past ten. I had been waiting for two hours. The moisture had penetrated my boots. I was more than uncomfortable, and then the unpleasant reflection came — perhaps this is one of those abominable practical jokes ! '"The devil take them," thought I — " ahem, the Lord forgive them ; surely they would have more respect for my cloth." But no ; I realised it at last. The lights were nearly consumed. I resolved to return to the camp. The lights flickered and went out. I was angry — perhaps somewhat alarmed. I did not know which way to turn. I began to walk ; I stumbled and fell. But at this juncture I heard a voice loudly calling my name, and caught sight of the rays from a lantern. I answered, and soon I could recognise the tones of Mr Thomas.

' " This is a shameful hoax, sir, 1 he said, as he came toward me, " and I regret it very much indeed." ' I had nothing to say beyond thanking

him for his timely assistance. I was hurt by the treatment of my companions far more than I, like" to think even now. When we returned to the camp the whole party were either asleep or pretending to be. On the following morning I rose early and began my preparations for returning home. At first, there was some attempt at banter, followed by dissuasion, and at last by a very earnest apology. I accepted the apology, and honestly forgave the offence ; but I felt that I was out of place in the situation, and I insisted on being allowed to depart. The waggon was prepared, and, after' shaking hands heartily with every one, I took my place therein. To my surprise, Mr Thomas took his place by my side and signified that he would accompany me. I remonstrated, as did the others, but the sole reply was, ' I came with this gentleman, I will retnrn with him.' 'There were two or three outside passengers, but my companion and myself were alone in the inside of the coach. His conversation showed him to be wonderfully well-informed. My reapect for him grew apace. "Mr Thomas, you seem a man of so much and such varied knowledge that I am at a loss in divining your profession. Will you tell me what occupation in life you follow!" '"Certainly," he replied; "I am a gambler." ' The silence which followed was awkward. It was' relieved by his remarking that, as we were ascending a steep grade, he would lighten the road by walking. He caught up his gun, which he had in the coach with him, and, without asking the driver to stop, jumped out and closed the door after him, leaving me alone to my reflections, which were certainly unpleasant ones. ' There was, perhaps, a quarter of an hour of swaying and pulling, the jingling of chain and the creaking of leather, before we reached the summit. Just as I could feel by the movement of the coach that the wheels were once more on level ground, I heard some sharp words of command, the stage stopped abruptly, and the door was flung open. I did not know what it meant, but I soon learned, and, raising my hands above my head, I took my place in a line comprised of the driver and the outside passengers. A masked man stood at the side -of the line, holding a pistol, which was pointed toward us, while another proceeded to rifle our pockets. The express-box and mail-bags lay in a pile upon the road. ' There was not much time for analyzing my sensations nor studying the situation, for suddenly a ringing voice was heard, and all eyes were turned toward a huge boulder lying by the road, over the top of which could be seen the glistening of a pair of gun-barrels. ' " You two road agents throw up your hands," said the voice ; " there's no use, I have the drop on you." The hands went up reluctantly. "Driver, secure their guns," continued the voice. This accomplished, Mr Thomas stepped from behind the rock. The spoils were returned to the mail-pouches and the express-box replaced. In a few hours more our journey was at at end, and Mr Thomas and I separated. His occupation not being conducive to our intimacy, we drifted apart ; so, months after, when a sheriff's officer came to the rectory to tell me that one Short- Card Tom requested my presence at the county jail, I did not know whom he meant. Regarding it, however, as a duty, I at once accompanied him to the prison, where I was surprised to meet again my late companion — I will say my friend — Mr Thomas. ' I had read in the morning paper that Short-Card Tom had the night before shot one Alphonse Porvenir, the proprietor of a notorious house of amusement, and had been slightly wounded himself in the affray ; but, of course, I had no idea that this man with a cant name and my acquaintance were one and the same. The prisoner soon told me his story. He had spread his layout — ahem, was conducting his nefarious occupation in the house of the man Porvenir. Connected with the establishment was a concert-hall or theatre, one of the actresses from which was the cause of the affray. The prisoner told me that she was an innocent young girl who had been decoyed into the house. The man whom he had shot had insulted her, and she claimed his protection with the result I have outlined. ' The girl was homeless and friendless, and his object in sending for me was to ask me, in my capacity as a clergyman, to procure for her a home where she would be safe from the evils which threatened her. It is needless to say that I at once sought the young woman, and became greatly interested in her case. She had hardly blossomed into the full flower of womanhood, and was wonderfully pretty, though, perhaps, that is not material. I introduced myself to her, and offered my sympathy and assistance. The poor child burst into tears, and told me a woeful story. She was the daughter of a well-to-do widow in San Francisco. Having thus been emancipated from the thraldom of school life, with nothing to do, like many young girls she became seized with a mania for theatrical life. One luckless day she saw an advertisement calling for young ladies to join a company. She answered it, and

met the man Porvenir, who engaged her to perform minor parts in his theatre, and advanced to her money with which to furnish a wardrobe, and to run away from home. When she joined him at his place in the mountains, she was horror-struck, and would have left him at once ; but he threatened her with arrest, and insisted upon her fulfilling her engagement, to pay the debt she had contracted. Feeling that she was helpless, she endeavoured to comply : but she soon found that the engagement implied a life" of debauchery and shame. To this she refused to submit. Her master refused to allow her to leave the house. In her fright and despair, she claimed the protection of the dignified gambler with the kindly face. It was promptly accorded to her, with the result recorded in the. wounding of the two men. 'It was necessary, of course, at once to remove the young woman from her licentious environment. I took her to the rectory to wait until I could find some family who would give her shelter whilst I communicated with her mother. I had no doubt that such an asylum could readily be found among my charitable parishoiners. Will you believe it, sir ? I could not find a single woman in my parish who would harbour her. I brought back with me an old charwoman, whom I had formerly employed to take care of the rectory, and installed her -as my housekeeper, and kept the young woman under my own roof. 'We discussed her future, and I urged her to write to her mother that she might be forgiven and return to her home. ' Mother would forgive me, 1 she said, ' but she could not forget, and others ' She said no more, but buried her face in her hands. 'As the days passed she grew more cheerful, and I saw that the light of her dainty girlhood brightened up the lonely rectory. Silenced by her words, I still pondered over the blight which was to come over her life. I prayed for her as though she was as pure as the sun. And then a light seemed to come to me. Why not silence malignity and shield her with my own good name ? Make her my wife ! The more I pondered over this the clearer seemed my duty. ' On the following Sunday, as I stepped from the vestry-room into the chancel, I saw that the church was full, but I noted that there was not a woman in the congregation. My text for the day had been 'It is more blessed to give than to receive,' and I had carefully prepared my sermon. When, however, I announced the text, it was, ' He who is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone.' lam not given to extempore preaching, as you are aware ; but on this occasion I delivered the best sermon of my life. I turned loose upon those gaping satyrs and gave them h — l1 — ahem. I poured upon them the words of the Lord's wrath, to the aid of their salvation, I hope. ' A few days later, I received a telegram from the bishop, calling me to him at once. This despatch was the result of letters which had poured in upon him from my parishioners.' ' I told my story to my superior, and never shall I forget the kindly sympathy and advice of that good man. I returned to my parish firm and strong in the knowledge tha,t I had his full and hearty support. I may say that I looked forward with pleasure to seeing the sweet face — sweeter for the trials of its innocent owner — which I expected to smile me a welcome home. ' But she was not there. When I returned I found that the innocent creature had skipped — er, that is, eloped — with ShortCard Tom.'— The Million.