THE TORCH OF REASON, SILVERTON, OREGON, THURSDAY, JANUARY 2 1 , 1 8 9 7 . GOLDEN THRONE. o b i c h u r c h . a m i I th in k time or other one m ust t h a t s o m e was the home of everything beauti- world would have have been [ a ROMANCE BY SAMVEL I*, f t TNAM.J h a p p y in it h u t HOW it i> “ Yes” said Paddie. “ I studied jejune. T h ad a ylight has killed it.” for years, and what did it am ount “ But how did you come to see to when I came to the real tussle daylight? All your family are still with life? I can’t earn m y bread of the church, and your nation • • - -■■■ ■ ... > ■■ . ever ” and vet I doubt if I am worth as “ Yes, Ireland clings to it as to a m uch to th e world as thia butterfly; m other. I don’t wonder. The and I stand asham ed by the side ol church has been kind to my native m any a rude clod-hopper, and land, and really, if I were to go wish ! could handle the pick as hack to C hristianity, I'd go hack to well as he. The veriest savage can the old Catholic church. It. has no beat me in the struggle for existence more superstitions than the rest of W hy sh o u ldn’t I revolt against n ,(. churches, a i d it’s m uch more everything, and go straig h t to comprehensive. It allow - play for n atu re.” hum an nature, ft tries to satisfy “ I t’s the best thing you can do,” all wants. It is deeply poetical while said Bill “ Stick to the butterfly, proiesiam ism is not. It is only and let the name go. We can’t set dogmatic. W hy, I »hough« I could things right in a m inute. Good- l>e free in the U nitarian church, but night. I m ust h u rry to my ranch.” I couldn’t. If I didn’t say just “ You have a palace to go to, such and such things, I had to take com pared to our dens,’’ said C harlie, it. I got sick of addressing my “and I don't wonder th at you arc in prayers every Sunday to the con- a h u rry , so good-night.” gregation, and wanted to d ro p o ff occasionally for a rest, hut they CIIAI TEII II. w ouIJn’l :«■! me. 1 Imd Io keep P a d d ie J o h n a n d C h a r lesaunter- <)n T |„., (.l>uld ljBlen ,0 the ed back to the settlem ent W hat un- ( com placently, hut fortunatee we are, lot 10 u . , io a»i w ouldn’t lieteu Ib r a m om ent been trained ae we h ave,— never to ( o m itled . So 1 had to be n atu ral, but alw ays artificial )eave the chureh ..„tirely .” said Charlie. "W h at a lu x u iy of never LWll,| th in k ,lf being a thought and feeling Bill has, ol „ haiJ c h a r |ie <.r d as which we can . a cage. I hey wiutuw® a hardly j have a cone« r p- HOon he a p arro t in tion for orthodoxy has rendered us 1 . uou, j are slaves, the whole of ’em . I <1 incapable! Even t oug 1 w< i ra^ ,e r dig here, and live in a hole free in thought, it still slicks to us, „ in our very bones. „ Up d ratlier study butterflies than “ Yes we are m aim ed ch ild ren ,” tbeil. confol,nded theology. H o w l said Jo h n . “ I don’t expect to be j hate the who|e th i„g! W hat a curse perfectly well. We have lost our it hag been to my country! Ireland fortune, and henceforth m ust be would be free to day, if she could w anderers.” have snapped her fingers at the “ W hat a terrible process it is —this priest. There never can he liberty un m ak in g of ourselves!” with superstition.” “ Yes, it leaves us lying round T here’s nothing hut failure; for about loose,v\ito h<ii<1 lv a n j consi. t Inen u jll alw ays he superstitious, en t faculty; and the whole world so king and priest priest will seems to he in about the same alw ays reign. Come in. W e’ll condition.” take a hit of drink together before “ I wonder if any recovery is b e d tim e .” possible, or if things have got to go C harley live«! in a d u g out. It to the devil anyw ay?” was as comfortable as an y th in g , lie “ 1 don’t bother myself. I leave it said, and w ouldn’t burn down. He to evolution. M eanwhile I am lighted the candle, and they sat by going to study insects ami dig for table on a couple of boxes. ■ ‘ a - t ----- ..... do The dem ijohn ami pipes ami to gold. In th way, I 1 - may som ething for m yself.’ bacco were handy. “ I don t like to leave things .-o, They sipped a littb*. and dream ily b u l l guess I ’ll have to, and take care of num ber one.” “ 1 am about as h ap p y here as any* “ W hat success have you h ad ?” where,” said J o h n . “ I like this old “ Oh, not m uch. The veins seem h at ami hoots, and I like the tit of to be worked out about here. Yet it my clothes, and I have plenty ot looks rich; and I shouldn’t wonder ventilation. See what a hole I tore if we struck som ething some time, to d ay .” Really, I ’d like to be rich; I ’ve “ W e have nothing to bother us tum bled about the world a good deal, here,” said Charlie. “ W «• are kings, and I find th at money is the chief because we don't care a snap for blessing. It is a friend th a t never anybody. We can he as dirty and failH •> ragged as we please.” “ 1 don’t care much about it. If “ T h a t’s the luxury of it. I ’d not 1 could have a hottie of wine every care to exchange places with any day. and a little bread and cheese, <me. A m illionaire couldn’t be I ’d he happy.” ,nore independent. However, I « I see you are notan idealise” never thought of this, when I was “ la m . T h at is what made me an young. W hat dream s i used to infidel. Of course I enjoyed the have when I believed th at the church been, if it had fnl, and just fitted to make the had only th e jioets to interpret the world happy!” universe! The curse came, when “ Well, I never dream ed m uch,” theologians undertook to explain said Charlie. “ I always was a things. I t ’s a ll nonsense to try to practical chap. I lived on a farm explain things. All we w ant are in New’ E ngland, and we had to pictures. D am n th e o rie s.’’ :'h(»ut thp, v ■..»•k« .ha.&J». V i--ui* w a s n ’t I'I-W m « * . ' 5 A VOU t!" chance for poetry, and what poetry butterfly or the stone or the there m ight have been was knocked flower? ” out of us by our religion. I c a n ’t “ No. I don’t. T hey are, and say. on the whole, th a t I ’d choose that s sufficient.’ existence.” “Science, tlmn, is folly?” “Oh, I ’d choose it in a m inute, “ It is, unless it stops w ith obser- anywhere, under any form .” said vation. It can arrange things and Jo h n , w i'h tru e Iri-h fervor. “ All I improve things, hut it can ’t explain want is to live. W hy, I’d be happy ’em. Science and poetry are one. even if I was only a worm of the Both depend on observation of what actually is. Science makes «lust.” “ I’d hardly be happy, if I was a the enp, po' try furnishes th e wine. king upon a th ro n e,” said Charlie. Both enable us to d rin k deep “ Life is a grim sort of a thing d ra u g h ts of life.” “ 1 see no speculation in your under any circum stances.” eyes.” “ W hy don’t you die, th en ?” “ I don’t w ant speculation. I “ Oh, I shall when the t ime comes, and very gladly too. But fate has w’ant insight, vision. I don’t spec put me here, and fat'* m ust take me ulate about the butterfly. I sim ply aw av. I have no right t in terfere see it. W hat more can any one do? The trouble is th a t the vast m ajor with fate.” ity of people don’t see the butterfly; “ You believe in fate, then? ‘ Yes, I do, in a dark, ir«»n fate, in fact, they see h ard ly an y th in g . th at holds me in its pitiless grasp They are blinded by speculation ’’ “ Well, one m ust be horn a poet as if I were an insect.” “ Well, I don’t believe in anything in older to sec; and, if not horn a really. I don't think it pays to have poet, then he m ust speculate.” “ We are all horn poets, I think. any faith, not even in life itself. We m ust sim ply enjoy it. If a It is education th a t robs us of our m an asked me if I believed in my b irth rig h t.” There was a knock at the door. own existence, I ’d say no. I don't “Come in,” said Charlie. know’ what the logical consequence A singular sort of an individual of such an assum ption w’ould bt It would be safer to deny it. I don’t entered. He was not prepossessing w ant an y th in g to do with logic only by any m eans. He had a hang- w ith poetry. Now, poetry don’t dog look. H is h air was combed need any premises. Poetry only straig h t back from h ’s forehead, deals in ideals, and Ih a v e plenty of H is eyes had hardly an y color, but them .” y°u m ight call them w atery blue. “ I guess you have, and in th a t I hev did not look at you steadily, have the advantage of me. You They were restless, serpent eyes, see a world of beauty even in a His nose was crooked. His lips b u tterfly ’s w ing.” were th in , and behind them were a “ Indeed 1 do,” cried J o h n ,e n th u - few sm all and gleam ing teeth. A siasticallx ,“ and in a hit of stone or thin gray beard was scattered over blade of grass. Just look at this his face. His gait was som ewhat butterflv. Is an y th in g riclmr than sham bling, and he bent his head th a t? W hat gorgeous colors! Silver with an air of hum ility. I here ami gold is there more plentiful was no assertion ot m anhood about th a n in any hank. W hat lady ever him. He looked likes a walking dressed finer? And there are apology. m illions of just such beautiful This was Gooch. “ The deacon” things in nature. Fake an y th in g was the nam e he went by. He was th at you comeacr«>ss, the first pebble deacon, and a very good one he that voucan lay your h a n d s o n .a n d m ade when at home. He had some it’s a m arvel. It’s infinite in its faculty for praying. H e could loveliness.” talk glibly of the total depravity of “ llo w I envy you! W hat a glory m an. He seemed to believe in it it is to l»e a poet! E verything with his whole h eart. He could th rills you. The sw aying of a discourse also of regeneration, hut branch is music. I w’onder if you his faith in th at w as not so strong see the reality,or are you cheated by as his faith in depravity. Above your im agination?” all, lie was em inently fitted for his “ I th in k th at poetry and tru th office, from the fact th at no one are one, and th a t poetry dwells in could look at him w ithout a most tru th and can dw’ell nowhere else, solemn and awful feeling. You Yet w hat is tru th ? We don’t . couldn’t laugh while in his pres- know. For us, then, the beautiful ence. He m ade you feel the u tter only is the true. Y et again, when worthlessness of hu m an life, an y th in g eeases t<> be true to us, it Like all deacons, he wanted ceases to he beautiful. W hat is mom v. There was never a dea- false is hideous. How happy the con yet who d id n ’t hunger for