A Complete Story

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LI, Issue 8, 21 February 1924, Page 9

A Complete Story

(By Eveline Cole, in the London Month.)

A, Newspaper Wrapping

• John Jameson was at work by the big window of the little room behind his shop. It was a quite ordinary china shop but, ffs both the village and its overshadowing neighbor the big house knew, the craftsmanship of its owner was not quite ordinary, owing perhaps as much to qualities of character in the worker as to a command of technique and manual skill. Before him just now, for instance, upon the table which held the medley of materials necessary for the healing of injured pottery, lay a Derby plate. Nor, though there - was no example of that ware any more than of Chelsea, '■ Bow, or Worcester among his stock, was it by any means uncommon for still more valuable ceramic specimens to bo entrusted to him for repair. The plate was set on edge between two blocks of wood so that the weight of the pieces he had just inserted would tend to keep them in position. That finished, a Worcester cup in ruins, and a jug from which the long slender handle had been broken, stood at his elbow awaiting their turn. The shop bell summoned him, however, before he could begin upon either. He removed the spectacles he wore for fine operations and went to answer the call. His customer, a Mrs. Delaware, the owner of the plate, had come to enquire after the condition of her valued possession. “The repairing should have been done as soon after the breakage as possible, Madam,’’ Mr. Jameson said, with a hint of slightly sad reproach in his f voice. “When the broken fragments arc allowed to lie about and rub together, their edges get chipped, and the joint cannot be so fine and close.” “Oh, I didn’t know,” Mrs. Delaware returned airily, “I’m afraid it’s been lying by for some months. I kept putting it off, though I always meant to have it done.” The china-dealer nodded his head. He remembered ’ the soaking and the cleansing with an old nail-brush to remove the grit and dirt her carelessness had necessitated, and could not in his mind exonerate her from blame, though it was not permitted him to speak more clearly. “I took care the pieces were clean and warm before I fitted them in, Madam,” he said, “and I hope to make as good a job of it as may be.” “Warm?” Mrs. Delaware exclaimed. “Dear me, how extraordinary ; it really sounds quite like the treatment of a wound.” . “Which is, after all, just what it is,” Mr. Jameson muttered to himself, as with ceremonious dignity he bowed her out of the shop. He returned to his workroom when his client had departed. He was accustomed to spp;id daily many happy hours therein, tasting, as was but fair, the joy of a good craftsman in the exercise of his skill. Yet beyond and #' above the satisfaction- afforded him on this plane of life >there was a strange and secret hunger within John Jame- - son which no one of his friends or acquaintances suspected or, could have understood. Religions yearnings did not in the village, fall under the heading of a generally recognised want. x ° j The peculiar ache, however, from which he suffered in r . hours of solitude was, as a rule, reserved for his evening 8 hours after the closing of the shop, and at nresent as artistg craftsman he absorbed himself in the Derby plate. The I cement had not - as y et thoroughly set and'hardened, but £ the joint would, he trusted, in its final result defy detec;e>tion., He was reminded by the triangular fracture of the outline of the map of India, for Mr. Jameson was a reader . , as well as a manual worker, Then he ran his eye over the miscellaneous collection

covering the surface of the table, from the heap of tape, string and fine copper, and iron wire for “binders” to the lump of beeswax which, when softened, served as a convenient holder for delicate ornaments. Not discovering what he needed for his next job, he opened a cardboard box and took therefrom some sticking-plaster in long strips for his operation upon the delicate cup. . He had always a clear plan of action, and as an experienced workman would not make the mistake of attempting the joining too many pieces at once. He ananged the bits carefully in order, and then into pairs of adjacent parts, reducing so his twelve fragments to six pairs. The day following he would simplify the number to three on its way to unity. By this method of successive pairing he could have put together a hundred atoms. The shop bell then rang again, Mr. Jameson was glad to find that it heralded an interesting case; a messenger, heavy-laden, from the caretaker up at the big house, at present tenanted only by servants to prepare for the advent of the new owner. The boy therefrom, of boot-blacking and knife-cleaning profession,'fidgetted in the shop. If he had not held the parcel in his arms he would, Mr. Jameson divined, have been fingering the wares. “Hullo,” he said, holding out his burden at the shopkeeper’s appearance, “there ain’t nowhere I can stow this ’cept the floor.” Mr. Jamseon accepted it with reverential care, not know what it might contain, while the errand boy plunged into the explanation of matters. “Cook’s Irish, you see,” he commented, with fine discrimination of racial attributes, “and dead sure to have a smash now and again.” There was not lacking, Mr. Jameson noted, a fiendish delight at the inevitability of the tragedy. “Anyway, she’s done it this time, a real bad ’un, and all along of too much cleanin’, if you ask me.” At this point of the narrative the china-dealer, having unpacked the newspaper wrappings, gingerly lifted out their contents. Two, three Copeland plates were in pieces. “'You’re quite sure all the bits, every scrap is here?” ho queried anxiously. Certain sure,” the boy said. “While cook was a-doin’ the mournin’ I picked ’em up myself. There wasn’t nothin’ Chinese left on that floor.” “I can’t promise these under a week* tell Mrs. Parry,” Mr. Jameson said cautiously. “I’ve some other jobs I must finish first.” “Oh, that’ll do all right I ’spects,” the youth returned. Family s not arrivin’ just yet. You fix ’em up and I’ll be hoppin’ down again come next Wednesday,” and he departed whistling, glad to be rid of his responsible burden. The shopman carried the parcel into his workroom and deposited it on a spare corner of the table. Next he unlocked a safe close at hand, and lifting out the broken plates from their coverings, placed them, not without tenderness, within. Then methodically he turned to fold the newspaper, and as he did so something caught his eye which stopped him in his task. The outer wrapping was an old Daily Telegraph : it was nothing on that which had attracted his attention, but some small bits of the broken china had been screwed up separately, and it was a sentence on this inner parcel that had shot like an arrow into his consciousness. Picking up the torn sheet which contained it, ho folded and placed it in his pocket. After supper he would read its context. There was no time now: Maggie w r as already calling him impatiently. Ho ate his food absent-mindedly, and after that, when the table was cleared, the sentence got between him and his simple accounts which it w*as his habit to total up each day. He was glad when it was done and he could allow himself the leather arm-chair and his pipe. He had meant to continue reading Macaulay' s Essays, but the fragment of newspaper claimed precedence. , V, ' He look it out of his pocket and looked it carefully over td discover how Ifitich matter he, possessed, It was

the immediate context of the burning phrase he wanted, to see j of the two -words which had thrummed in his heart • ' incessantly since he read them — “Perpetual Adoration.” . Why'■no human being could manage that! It would /be trenching upon the work of the angels. It was their • function, of course, but not possible for men. Where was ; "there such a thing upon earth? What could the greatly daring words mean? "" t He spread the paper with hands which trembled a little, and read once more “Perpetual Adoration.” -W ' A tear in the paper beneath, so that the words continued abruptly . . . “appeal for help during the war feto maintain the number of candles necessary for continual Exposition. The Adoration is continued day and night ’y unceasingly and has never been interrupted since the Founi " dation of the Order, having persisted through the troublous period of” ... A second gap where the paper had been jagged, and on the atom remaining two words, “Blessed Sacrament.” John Jameson sat back musing. Though a deeply religious man he had, like perhaps not a few naturally devout ..souls, been led by the bewildering choice of creeds in V: modern England to the extreme undenominationalism of the rejection of all. None of those he had tried had satis'B fied him completely: the weak note, the lack in all had been precisely that for which his soul yearned most hungrily the fitting and seemly worship of God. It had , seemed to him the concentration on human need even in prayer, heavily weighted with petition, had wronged and forgotten the claims of the Divine. • - The prospect therefore of a new religion, possessing this wonderful characteristic of Adoration carried to its fullest height, was a promise of the satisfaction of his own .. . reverential instinct for the due and fitting. The words which to his neighbors would perhaps have been devoid of meaning attracted him with the force of a magnet.. No .form of religion with which he was acquainted had attempted this, indeed he had not known that such an aspiration existed upon earth and he was excited by his dis- - covery. Yet the fragmentary condition of his source of information frustrated the gaining of further knowledge. Who were the folk blessed with so exquisite a privilege? What, too, was “Continual Exposition,” the Blessed Sacrament, and whence the need of candles - Ho pondered the mystery at intervals throughout the evening, and at length an inspiration came to him. He would discover from the loquacious boy when next he came to the shop what religion the new owner of the big house professed. He rather suspected it would turn out to bo some Eastern esoteric creed. Then he relapsed into meditation. Perpetual! It was going on then as he went to bed, nor would 't cease while he slept. He was at work early the next morning still hyptonised . by his consciousness of a new and secret It did not prevent, however, the giving of his full attention to the jug its turn: a case, he saw, for “bridge” A work, - the greater part of its handle being missing. He bored a small hole in each of the two remaining stumps, into which he inserted and cemented a bit of copper wire to form a core. Then he put that aside and turned to the riveting of the plates from the big house, laying -the - broken pieces edge to edge and marking on each side dots - where the holes would be drilled.- His thoughts kept feast as he bent and flattened the wire for the rivet, and he had just touched its ends with shellac before insertion when the shop bell rang. That did not matter : the wire would contract and cool now, so bringing the edges of the fracture together. - On his return he made some patching mixtures: one ■ for the handle of the jug and another of plumbago, brick-" dust, and waterglass for the filling of a tiny hole in a black Wedgewood vase. m At intervals he was absent in the' spirit, for though he did not recognise it himself he really lived two lives: one of the faithful healer of old china and another that of a - soul capable of becoming Gott-hetrunkcn. His outer life >: •• showed a regularity ■ almost mach*m-like yet removed alto-

gether from the commonplace by the glints shed ■ thereon from the divine fire'within his soul. A week later exhilaration possessed him at the prospect of light to be shed upon the words still haunting him. With the gladness of them still in his heart he answered the first ring of the shop bell. The boy from the big house stood there. “Come for the plates,” he announced without preamble, and Mr. Jameson, nodding, returned to his bench to fetch them. While securing an extra string round the parcel as he stood in the shop he sprang a question on the boy “What religion are the new folk up at the house?” he asked, feeling that his life hung on the answer. Why everyone in the village knows as they be Catholics, in course,” the urchin returned, not troubling to veil his contempt of Mr. Jameson’s despicable ignorance. “Got their own chapel they ’as, stuck full o’ all sorts of things,” and putting down the china pig he had been fingering he prepared to depart. ?■' _ “What sort?” faltered John Jameson. His heart had sunk like lead at the boy’s reply. All his hopes of a modern, enlightened sect were killed. Romanists! Papists! Who did not even worship God at all but the . Virgin Mary instead. He remembered a chapel sermon once heard against Mariolatry. There must be some mistake: the paper could not have to do with that religion. “Oh, pictures and figures of folk, and candles, lots of ’em. My eye, but it’s fine when they’re all ablaze!” he added appreciatively. But at every word the boy had spoken Mr. Jameson’s heart sank lower. Yet there were the candles, mysteriously connected in some way with the Adoration. Seems as though the aristocracy should know better ” he remarked as he handed the parcel to the boy “I’m not particular where I worship but I do draw the’line at Catholics. Mr. Jameson was not of the self-righteous but his tone savored of it now. Before the boy escaped, however, he brought the fragment of cherished newspaper from his pocket. Any thine was better than suspense. ” “Do you know from what paper this came?” he asked, extending the creased page. v ■ >l “Vhy, Catholic ,as they takes Times week reglar, was the answer. “It yon wants to know all about it L° Sn“day “'" e *° “ Ch#pe1 ' It ’ 8 01,6,11,11 as well The china-dealer was, however, too sad for such frivo ons amusement. He was thrown back upon himself, and the fellowship of “Perpetual Adoration” had dissolved into tlun air. The next week was a rainy one and but few jobs came m. Customers also were rare, and affairs reached a crisis for a dull , da upon which he sold «y a breakfast saucer foi three halfpence and a teapot for sixpence all day long. bench H b lng to ' Vaids dusk of his cramped position at the bei ch he rose and went into the shop to satisfy among the to aud\ and crude ware a hunger for. beauty. him In , r f le lialf l f ht > however, some of his goods pleased n. I hey were better thus not seen too plainly. There n eie cheap vases whose curves were yet quite graceful, and he began massing such stuff as possessed color together. ? would make himself a pleasure corner: asmo one served m the shop except himself the disarrangement would be of no consequence. All florid and decorated articles he rejected, choosing only those of plain character. The childish make-believe recalled his last visit to the Museum at Kenmagic;!) and he lost himself for a while m a dream of the blue 0 o f e theold ni lental P ? ,ata = of the of azure vmd red and ° f : the “ o »- Then suddenly the chasm between the old classics of S the contents of a modern china shop sickened nit go out nd hIS reCreation the « « longer. He , The ,old craving, too, for communion with God was upon him. Often at night he had been able to satisfy it m quiet places beneath a starlit sky, but this evening the ram deprived him of his natural temple ■ Not a place of worship m the, village would be open. It was not a prayer

'I meeting night. The only shelter offered was the Romanist chapel. The boy had said it was never closed any clay till 8 p.m. ■ ! ; * ■ ( \ • : Yet he hesitated still, after he had closed the shop door behind him, till a fresh downpour drove him thither at a brisk trot. He would explore this religion of extremes: of -degrading superstitions, and, if so be, of “Perpetual Adoration.” Fie caught a gleam of faint light within the chapel as he ■approached, yet when he stepped inside it was nearly fdark. That, however, gave him courage. No one would ,notiqe his entry, though when his eyes grew accustomed ffco the .gloom he detected a few figures kneeling. It flashed jnpon him, as he watched, that they knflt in Adoration, He letrhitnself go then, and without giving heed to his -surroundings, ,-which nevertheless rested him strangely Vbpried his face in Jiis hands and immediately, it seemed to himself, found God. H© wandered, as the noise of folk entering roused him, why he should have done so more speedily and more easily than ever before, and again the answer was given him. God was here. Two children slid into a seat beside him, and during i tthe/bewdldering quarter of an hour that followed he watched -them for guidance. When a bell rang lie heard the elder v whisper, “Bend down your head,” and John Jameson did j likewise. It . was over now and the worshippers were dispersing, l.but he remained kneeling till his acquaintance, the boy, rroused him. vAy-V Once outside the chapel Mr. Jameson tried to shake himself free from itsinfluences. The transition to ordinary life was besides aided by his companion who, on his •yway to the village, hung in the old man’s wake. “.-See - the Crucifix life-size, just like a real dead ’imp” lie© inquired. “No,” the Shopkeeper replied, somewhat at a loss to explain his abstraction to his .tormentor. “It was too dark for me to see anything,” “Well, I likes that! With the candles ablazin’ like fireworks, a precious deal lighter nor daylight. -You must ! have seen the Rady in blue just abpye you ?” “I tell you I saw nothing,” Mr. Jameson repeated, “and you’d better say nothing of my being there to the 1 folk in the village. They might think it strangeiike.” Well, as for myself, I goes often,” the boy returned. ‘ “I likes the lights you see, and the images is company y- even when the chapel’s empty.” John Jameson, however, blamed himself for' his indnlygence. There was something almost uncanny, he decided, in its attractiveness, and he would go no more; Besides, ■ there was nothing to prove that the chapel and Perpetual ..Adoration were in any way connected. /So he absorbed himself on the morrow in his work, punctuated as usual by the ringing of the hell. Sibis very first visitor was the boy, on private business conn , ? ct ' VV P^ I objects of domestic use for his own home, and wh e Sede pted his wares he talked. “Heai the newer” he asked, with the air of a man of the world ;aihv *T vs made Mr. Jameson feel behind “J: the times. “The’' (Wyfter s not .fi-comin’ into the big house at all. It’s to be int 9 = a nunnery ■ ; “Then the chapel . be shut U P ? ” - the shopman said with a curious sinking at’’’ e iea ! though he had, of course, meant never to enter , f^ gain : f „ fiwl v • “That it won’t,” the bov rot sqornfully - .“WhereJi ’ud the folk go for Mass d’ye SG? Ck says as there’ll be a grille pot „ p , pan ’ " :as 111 ’ ull st '» yy be for the public.” B \: What will they do in the nunnery ?' * J * me “ n ;'••• asked curious in spite of himself. A. . 7 t° h ’ t I 1 ?- ,r6 Perpetual Adoration,” the - | counting out his coppers. “You’ll see ’em at it if J an Wlt l tk * s kast Piece of information he dep. N -A -' nci WS r as well, as Air. Jameson would have been | capable of further conversation. \ + . He was dumbfounded and stunned. Perpetual Adoration not only somewhere in the world but here, close at hand, m the village itself ' -.-y*- Y,y, A

It was some weeks later tint aiv t again .into the chapel. Behind tho '.. a ™ eson crept once .figures knelt before the altar and Titf a"° vll ' tp Teiled the heart he knew that here were two of tl « eaP ° f Perpetual Adoration, and humbly i„ T” 1 •the chapel John Jameson vowed himself tn P ° I ° f tar as might be possible in their rivalrv . P T rtlClpate as , '•The most uncontroversial conversion I 1 a ” gels ‘ known,” the priest who received John r 1 ™ eVer Church asserted, “traceable J L \ Jameßm lnto the something read on a newspaper wrapping" make out > *° .A A A °