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A R O U N D T H E O L D A R M C H A I R
THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW.
How the "Book of Fables" Became
the Book of Truth.
"I love it, 1 love it,
And who shall dare
To chide me for loving
The Old Arm Chair.'
By Edgar White.
The silver-tongued speaker had just
left the "opera-house" in the big min.
ing town, where he had scored a distinct
triumph on his lecture, "The
Book of Fables."
"The Book of Fables" was the Bible.
The lecturer was a well-educated,
plausible infidel. He had spoken in
many places on the subject, and, from
the cold cash side, had succeeded. His
lectures paid him. A clever pressagent
travelled some days ahead, and
prepared the way.
Mr. Montague was a gentleman of
pleasing personality. His voice was
good, and he spoke with every evidence
of sincerity. People credited
him. with being honest in his views.
Wben he had finished this night,
many crowded around, eager to shake
his hand.
"I am in no sense an iconoclast,"
he smiled. "What I want, what you
want, is the truth. That is what I
was trying to tell you to-night."
Many honest, hard-working men returned
to their homes that night with
their faith shaken. They had listened
attentively, as their manner was, to
this master of language; and it seemed
to them, as it had appeared to wiser
men, that he had made out a case.
Under his keen analysis those quaint
old stories of the Bible fell like a
house of cards; they were wanting in
probability. Samson and the lion,
Jonah and the whale, David and Goliath,
were less plausible than fairy
tales; human intelligence would yet
arise the world over, and stamp them
as myths.
'The silver-tongued speaker had
sown deeply the seed of distrust.
What would the harvest be in that
great mining-camp
The east-bound train to the junction
was late several hours. Six miles
away the junction was, and Mr.
Montague had to make it in time to
catch his other train, or he would
miss the next night's date. It was a
bright moonlight evening, not very
cold. Mr. Montague was a strong
man, and a walk of six miles was
nothing to him-. He could easily make
it in an hour and a half, or less, and
would be on time for the other train.
The exercise would do him good.
The country was rough, a characteristic
of mining-sections. The road
sometimes run over high fills, then
through deep cuts or around hills. In
a valley was a light which appeared
to be close to a cottage window, like
a beacon the fisherman sets for the
THE CHRISTIAN NATION. Vol. 61.
men at sea.
Presently Mr. Montague heard approaching
in the distance a westbound
train. In the still, clear night
the rhythmic clatter on the rails was that purpose only the good God
carried a long way. Now and then knows. But so long as there was
came the hoarse warning for a roadcrossing.
The electric headlight
sparkled like a star far down the
track.
His mind on some novel turn to a
certain portion of his lectuire, Mr.
Montague was walking along almost
oblivious of his surroundings when his
foot struck an obstruction across one
of the rails.
The first thought was that the carcass
of som.e animal had been thrown
on the track, and he was about to try
to remove it when a closer look revealed
to his horrified eyes a man,
with head squarely across the rail!
Dead To every appearance it
seemed so.
The author of "The Book of Fables"
bent down, and in his methodical
manner was feeling for the man's
heart when he was startled by a terrific
blast that seemed delivered right
by him. It was the alarm-whistle of
the engine.
Then the man in Mr. Montague
awoke, and he seized the recumbent
figure by the shou'lders, strained heavily,
and succeeded in removing the
man from- the track just as the train
slid by on locked wheels. The air
hissed fiercelyas the brakes were released
and the train sped on. Having
seen that the two men were safely on
the roadside, the engineer of the fast
express dared not tarry to Investigate.
"Mother!"
The man—boy, rather—looked dazedly
into, the face of the stranger who
had saved his • life. Then he glanced boy," she said through her tears, "and
at the disappearing tailJlights of the got out of bed to pray God to bring
fast train, and shivered.
"V/here was I" he asked.
"On the rails," replied Mr. Montague.
"Had you been injured"
"No—drunk."
"Where do you live"
you safe home to me. And He's done
it, Joey; He's done it!"
• * *
"Friends, you will think it a strange
thing that I should return to this camp
and call you back to hear me again,"
"Down the road—in a hollow— said the lecturer the following evening
there's a light in the window."
"I saw it."
"Mother—she put it there."
at the same "opera-house" where
he had spoken'the night before. "But
for me I regard this as the most important
duty of my life. Last night
The boy moved but unsteadily, still
shivering.
each ot you paid fifty cents to hear
"If that train had run over me. it me tell yo-u about 'The Book of
would have killed her," he said. Fables.' As you pass out to-night, I
Mr. Montague figured a bit. He want each one of you to stop at the
would miss the train he expected to ticket-window and get his
take, but maybe in the morning he back. If I kept it, it would
money
burn
could get a motor-car in the miningtown
to take him across the country
in time to meet his appointment.
"Come," he directed, taking the
boy's arm; "I'll go home with you."
The boy accepted the offer, treat
ing it as a matter of course. In spits
of the shock the liquor still held
sway in his brain. He leaned heavily
upon the lecturer, and frequentlv
stumbled
"Must bave been awful drunk," he
apologized.
"You'll soon be all right,," encouraged
Mr. Montague.
It was slow work, but in time they
came in sight of the little cottage
down the valley, with its light burning
through the night to guide the
wanderer home. How many times the
lamp had been filled and emptied for
need, it is certain that light woull
burn.
"Sometimes when it's foggy or
hazy she comes out and swings the
lantern," the boy told his companion.
In the clear moonlight Mr. Montague
could see that the boy was a
well-built, strong young fellow, with
curly hair and a countenance that
might have been attractive hut for
the drink-dulled eyes and dirt-marks.
"Does—do you often come home
this way" asked the lecturer.
"Yes. But this is the last time."
For a moment the dull eyes lighted,
and there was a different look on the
soiled face.
loose from his companion's arm, the
boy staggered toward the window.
Mr. Montague followed close behind.
"Sh-h-h!"
The boy pointed.
Mr. Montague looked in between
the coarse curtains, and saw an old
white-haired woman on her knees by
the bed.
"Mother!" whispered the boy, reverently
removing his cap.
They waited a moment, and then
the boy led the way around to the
front door and opened it,
"Joe! O Joe! The Lord be prai-ied!"
It was a tone that none but a mother
could sound. She had sprung to
her feet at the sound of his steps,
and he had no sooner opened the
door than she had her arms about
him.
"I dreamed you were in trouble,.
through my soul. Now let me tell you
a story; it's better than anything I
told you last night,"
Then the master of words and of
expression used all the simple dignity
of his trained mind in bringin.g before
this great audience of colliery-men
the incident of the night before. He
had not closed his eyes since he left
the cottage, the place where he saw
something which he knew was not
fable.
Never in his life had there been
committed to him a mightier themenever
in his life had he faced a more
earnest audience; and never had he
felt so sure of his subject.
These dark, strong men were moved
as the inhabitants of earth may
be moved when the heavens are rolled
away. The strangely earnest persoa
before them was answering tbe question
Pilate had asked ol the Man of
Galilee, "What is truth" And thv
felt in every fibre of their stalwart
bodies that he knew.
"Men, that flickeringkerosene-light
was reaching out into the nightfo-r
the souls of two men," the spealier
concluded. "It was placed there by
omnipotent power to do the Omnipotent's
will. Humble and crude as
the instruments were,—^as they always
are,—they did what there was
for them to do.
"Last night I 'dlosed my talk to you,
leaving in your minds no security for
the present, no hope for the future.
Then, suddenly jerking. Tonight I am back to tell you that all
I said was false, that all my reasoning
was written on the sand. For now I
know, as you know I know, and as I
know you know, that the greatest
things inaill the world are truth and
love, and that these are God."—Chri.stian
Endeavor World.
A HIGHLY EDUCATED MUSICIAN
Praises the Home Study Lessons of
the Well Known U. S. School
of Music.
The U. S. School of Music.
Dear Sirs:—Though not a pupil of
yours, I very recently came across
your "Course of Home Study for
Pano," and feel impelled to tell you
that I became so greatly interested
by the clearness and high standard of
the work that I read through the entire
three year course. Having myself
been a student for years, under
such great masters as Scharwenka, Albert
Ross Pars o as, and the late Ur. William
Mason (whose diploma I hold),
and having studied composition and
the theory of music with Dudley
Buck, and other men of an intema-
;ional reputat on, I feel my honest
endorsement of your Home Study
Course for Piano may have some
value to you, I do not hesitate t-o '
say that for ali those who cannot aiford
the high fees of artists, your
plan is one of golden opportunity, to
all this very great majority of mus'C
lovers you have opened the door to a
real Musical Education at practically
no expense when compared to the
small fortune one must invest through
the usual channels of study. I ^'is^
you the success which you so richlv
deserve in your work of bringing a
true knowledge ot good music into 4
many homes.
Sincerely yours,
JEWELL -M. PFALTZ,
222 Madison Avenue,
Flushing, L- '
Saturday, June 13th, 1914.