6
! OREGON CITY : COURIER-HERALD; FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 16-1901..
Bdward Blake:
College Student.
r . , ..
By Charles M. Sheldon.
Continued from last issue
""It is not absurd at all. Good God,
C3fefl, don't you see bow I am situated?
f f don't care for the old college. All tbe
'Wme I've been here I've been tempted
ly the fast'set to do the things I've
been doing. I'm no scholar. 1 hate
books, -except novels. When I think
X what It's all for. I don't care a rap
itor the education. But I like uusl liens,
sand I know as well as anything that I
-can succeed with the opening tuy uncle
fias made for me. Now. If I can settle
down In a home of my own 1 shall be
;ln a fair way to make a man of myself.
Xo other girl ever appealed to me like
.-your sister. I feel as If I could promise
Jher anything and keep It. too, even as
'I haven't kept my promise to my own
mother. Does that mean nothing to
3tu? It means everything to me."
There was quite a silence In tho
vroom. Then Edward spoke very slowly:
"Then you want my sister to sacrl--Slce
herself to save you. Is that It?"
"I don't aslt her to sacrifice anything
ft&she does not care for me," replied
Willis proudly.
Edward did not reply to this, and
after awhile Willis said: "I'm going to
"write to your mother and ask her If
"1 may speak to Freeda. If she gives
-tier consent, I suppose It's all right."
"I shall never give mine."
" "But she Is of age. She oan decide
tfor herself."
I "1 mean that it will never be with my
approval that you ask Freeda to mar
ry you. I haven't any fears about
the answer she will give you."
Nevertheless, he did have some fears,
Tnd Willis seemed to know that fact.
"It all rests with her, then. Will
;you promise me oue thing, Ned? Will
:yon promise not to say anything to
cher before I get word from your moth
er? After all, Isn't a man to be al
lowed to choose for himself when he
loves a person ?"
Edward hesitated. He did not know
.'Just what his mother would say. But
'-artiift Willis said had a good deal of
Tirelght after all.
"Yes, I'll promise that," he said at
1 last reluctantly.
"All right. Thank you," replied Wil
ms, and then, as by agreement, the con
versation stopped.
A week later Willis showed Edward
im letter from Mrs. Blake.
Edward red It through In some sur
prise. It was in answer to Willis' let
ter. In which he had evidently gone
'Into a full account of the matter. He
had put his case as strongly as possi
ble, and Mrs. Blake had evidently
sympathized with him to a degree.
'Ills proposal concerning Freeda had
come as -a great surprise, but she was
willing that Freeda should decide her
.future, fciho had always given her
.groat freedom and did not wish to co
eree her feellug. At the same time she
tentured to express her strong ugret
that Mr. Preston was uot a Christian
by profession and more than hinted
tier doubts concerning Freeda's ac
eptauce of such a future on ac
count of her religious home training,
etc. The letter closed with a reluctant
'fiswnt to Willis' appeal to be allowed
'to Apeak to Freeda.
"It's all right so far as your mother
Is concerned," said Willis, with some
satisfaction, us Edward handed back
the letter.
Edward did not answer.
"There's one more thing I want to
ask of you, Ned, and that Is thut you
let nio speak to Freeda before you say
anything to her against me. Will you?"
"I won't say anything to her. Let her
settle It," replied Edward shortly.
This was about two weeks before
commencement. Three days after, as
.Edward was going over to the library
'to got a book, he met Freeda coming
f.froiu the hall. Hor face bore marks of
werplng, and Edward knew at ouco
"What the reason was.
,lle went up to her and faced her
with sympathy.
"Come, Freeda, take a walk with me
'out on the lower campus and tell me
what you ran. 1 know about It."
Freeda silently nsseutod, and they
'went down to a seot under an old elm
and sat down there after walking slow
ly around the wide path that encircled
the campus,
"And I couldn't give him any other
answer, Ned, could I?" asked Freeda
us she continued her account of the uu
ejtpected Interview she had hud with
Willis.
"No, I don't see how you could," re
tplhd Edward gravely. "And yet you
-ay, dear, that you had begun to like
thlm very much?"
'I.Ike' Isn't the word to use, Ned.
I'm afraid I think a great deal too
much of him for my own happiness
mow. And yet I felt as sure all tho
time he wns asking me to marry him
:unl looking so handsome and so
'lira ve" here Freeda choked rt little
and Edward waited In sympathetic sl
Seni for her to recover "so brave,
Nod, that 1 hnd hard work to say no.
Ami yet 1 knew It was for the best. I
fold him plainly that I feared fur my
tut nrc with him ou account of his
sii-lnklng especially. And he promised
wvc-yiliiiiiT about giving It up for my
sake. Hut I have no faith In his prom
Wx. Isn't it strange, Ned, even though
I believe 1 liae soi.iclntu' eouie to to
actually think nucv of lilui than of
any one, 1 st!!l kno'v. somehow, that
after awhile he would bej-ln to drink
iigaln, and our home would be rulued?
It'a na awful thlug, the drink habit.
ilBi It, NwH"
..Tlt ccrtalniT nd vou don't
believe you could keep him from it?"
he asked, finding his sympathy for his
sister softening his feeling toward Wil
lis. "No, I've no faith in that, Ned," re
plied Freeda sadly. "I don't believe
in marrying a young man to reform
him. A man has no right to ask a girl
to do that He ought to come to her
as pure and free from vices as he ex
pects her to be. Men are not expected
to marry bad women to reform them.
What right bare they to expect a girl
to do that for them?"
"Sou will not regret your decision,
dear," at last Edward said. "I am
very glad of it I fe$i as you do about
It. You would never be happy."
"No, I don't regret it," answered
Freeda, pushing her foot nervously
over the cinders at the foot of the
seat. And then, to Edward's surprise
and distress, she clasped her hands In
her lap, while the tears ran over her
face as she said, "But I am very un
happy now, Ned, for I think I loved
him very much."
That evening Willis did not come in
until quite late, and Edward waited
"You wtll ot reqfet your decision, dear."
for him. Tbe minute be saw Willis'
face he knew that he bad taken his
answer in a hard way.
"Of course you know all about it," be
said, with a short laugh. "She's too
good for me. I made her confess that
she cared for me though. You said
she didn't."
Edward came very near getting an
gry again. Nothing but his sense of
Willis' keen disappointment kept hint
from it
"I'm going home this week," WlllifJ
continued shortly. "I'll skip exam
inations anyway."
Edward tried to persuade him to
stay and finish out the work of th
year.
"What's the use? I'm going to New
York this summer anyhow. Your sta
ter will have good deal to answer for
If I go to tbe bad when I get to the
city."
At that Edward boiled over with
righteous wrath.
"Look here, Willis! Don't you dare
to charge your owu miserable selfish
ness to my sister! It's all your own
fault that sha couldn't marry you. And
if you go U) the bnd now it will be
your own fault and no one's else, be
sides showing her that you never real
ly cared anything for her. If you did,
you would make a man of yourself."
Willis sat down and leaned his el
bow on the old table and put his bead
on his hand. Then he lifted a haggard
face to Edward and said:
"You're right. I'm a poor, misera
ble, selfish fool, and I would wreck
her life If she should put it Into my
keeping. I know as I sit here that I
shall go to the devil through drink, no
matter what happens. I've had the
tortures of hell to fight all these weeks.
Do you know when your sister told mo
finally that her refusal was absolute
and that I had uot the slightest hope I
had a horrible feeling of something like
relief to think that now I had an ex
cuse to go to drinking again. Just as
sure as I sit here, Ned, I'm certain
that I shall drink myself crazy drunk
In less tlmu ten years. And yet grand-'
father always said drink never hurt
him any. lie was one of these per
sonal liberty follows, lie never thought
of the possibility that I might go to the
devil even If he didn't. It's possible,
though, that we shall moot In hull.
Maybe In Cod's sight he's as much to
blame as I am."
"Don't!" cried Edward, shocked at
the reckless, savage manner In which
Willis spoke. The sight of the miser
able face and the thought of Willis'
possible future haunted htm all the
rest of his college course.
"Ood keep you from knowing any
thing about this feeling," said Willis
more gently, and then he rose suddenly
and came over to Edward.
"Ned, old boy, I'm going away, and
I may never see you ngnin. 1 owe you
a lot for the way you've borne with
me, and I'll never forget It. You and
Freeda have prompted the best feel
ings 1 ever had. Don't think too hard
of nio, will you? 1 wish you'd write to
me once In awhile. Don't give me up,
even if 1 do seem to lie past hope.
Maybe Whoaton's prayers will save me
yet."
Oh. Edward Wake, college student
Wlien tlio Judgment (lay reveals tin
soerota of the universe, will you see
then what yon missed because yon
wore not a Christian? What might
you have said or done at this time to
save this poor soul If you hud really
had some higher standard of life than
your cold, moral standard, that never
warmed your heart or tired your soul
to help save another soul? The Lord
open your eyes to see not only tho
great opportunity you missed, but also
the great sin of daring to live always
with no better purpose than the oue
that has so far ruled you.
So he let Willis go, and go out of his
life, at least for the tlmo being, with
a kindly and even a self reproachful
feeling, that in time became a vague
sort of hope that be might not turn out
quite so 'bad as he himself said he
would. And yet If the clutch of his
grandfather's sins was on him, bow Is
It that even then you do not yet re
alize, either of you, that there is a
power even greater than hereditary
taint In the blood and that tbe blood
of Jesus Christ the Son of God can
cleanse even that taint of that' other
blood? For he is able to save to the
uttermost those that put their trust in
him. '
And now the commencement season
was on, and Edward realized that ho
was through his Junior year, and In a
few days, as soon as the graduating
class bad received their diplomas, his
own class would be entitled to the dig
nified name of seniors. He was not so
devoid of Imagination as not to be
quite deeply moved at the thought
He and Freeda were now classified to
gether, for, although she had entered
six months earlier, Edward bad ar
ranged bis course so as to make up
certain studies, and Freeda had drop
ped back a part of a year In order to
be with him and take a special course
in music. So they were glad to think
of the comradeship still possible for
them another year.
As they sat together that commence
ment day and heard the charge to the
outgoing class they realized as never
before the value of their college life.
The president never said very much at
commencement. Perhaps that Is one
reason why the class that graduated
remembered a good many things and
carried them away with them.
"It would not be fair nor true to say
to you," continued the president after
giving the diplomas, "that you had ail
done the very best you knew bow dur
ing your entire college course. You
yourselves know that you have neg
lected many-opportunities and wasted
many important hours. You cannot
now belp this, and I am not going to
nse this occasion to blame you for not
having made better use of your ad
vantages. "The question for you to ask now is,
What can I do with what I have gain
ed in Hope college? As you go out in
to tbe world you will find a great many
temptations to use your Intelligence
selfishly. A college bred man or wo
man always is strongly tempted to be
more or less exclusive, growing farther
and farther from a knowledge of and
sympathy for the people. Will you let
me urge every one of you to use your
powers developed here to get nearer
the people who have not had your ad
vantages? If education does not mean
a brotherhood, if It does not mean tbe
strong bearlnghe Infirmities of the
weak, then It Is not Christian: it Is
pagan In ,lts selfishness and narrow
ness. '
"There is Just one other thing I want
jou to feel at this time, and that is the
t reat first thing in all life. I mean the
i hrlstian life. If every member of
this class in the course of tbe next ten
years should forget every lesson ho
ever learned In mathematics or chemis
try or astronomy, the loss might be
great, but it would not necessarily be
vital nor fatal to a life of great useful
ness. But if every one of you ten
years from now Bhould forget i and
cease to practice all the lessons you
have been taught in Christian charac
ter and the value of truth and purity
and self denial and usefulness the loss
would be not only terrible, But abso
lutely Irreparable. All the things you
have learned in the whole college
course are not worth knowing without
the knowledge of God. Taul said that
if a man had all knowledge, but did
not have love, it profited nothing; It
"I'm not oAng to apologise, liluke."
was of no account. That Is what 1
mean. If the main things you are
taking out of this school luto the world
are facts concerning languages nud
science and art and music If that Is
all you are taking with you. I am sorry
for you and for the world. But If you
are taklim with vou a creat desire to
make use of all this knowledge lu such
a way as to make human life happier
and the kingdom of Cod on earth more
real, because you love with supreme
love Cod and your follow men. then I
amglad for you and the world that
you have learned here In tills college
the secret of nil true education, which
Is the fitting of men and women to
serve Ood aud one another more pow
erfully. "1 am rejoiced as 1 read your clr.ss
motto, 'Vires Nobis Dosupor.' If you
realize this truth that your strength Is
not In yourselves, not lu your owu cul
tured morality, not In your acquired
learning, not In your superior training,
but is In that power above us who nlso
abides within us. thru you cau go out
and do good work In the world as It
ought to be done and do It not to your
own glory, but to the glory of Cod.
The Lord bless you and use you to his
glory. Co out from here aud do not
your best, but his best, as be works
above aud withlu you."
lu the afternoon of commencement
day at Hope It was customary to have
class day exercises under au elm ou
the upper campus. But the afternoon
on this occasion was raluy, and the
class went Into the chapel. As Edward
was going lu with the rest of his own
class, which always sat together dur
ing the afternoon exercises, he was
stopped a moment In the lower hall by
Wheaton, who asked him If he would
be In big room after the exercises or
before the promenade concert In the
evening.
"Pardon me for asking or taking any
of your time today, but I am obliged
to leave for borne on tbe 7 o'clock train
on account of Illness there, and 1 want
Just a word with you before 1 go."
Edward felt somewhat annoyed, for
he guessed what Wheaton wanted to
say, but he had come to feel more re
spect for him than he once felt, and so
he answered quite pleasantly.
"Come up right after the exercises
here, and I'll have a little time."
"All right; thank you," said Wheaton
gratefully.
When Edward went up to his room
after the class exercises were over, he
found Wheaton waiting for bim In the
They went in, and Wheaton some
what awkwardly took the seat Edward
offered.
"I'm not going to apologize, Blake,
for saying what I have In my mind at
this time," began Wheaton. and all his
awkwardness and embarrassment van
ished as he began to speak. "1 may
not come back to Hope next year on
account of matters at home, and 1 may
not ever see you again. But I have
been praying for you almost ever since
you entered Hope, and I have carried
a burden In my soul for you that you
might accept Christ as a personal Sav
iour. Won't you give It a serious
thought, Blake? Not because I ask you
to, but because you owe It to Christ to
be bis disciple. You have great- power
'or good In this college. Your Infiu
would be, something wonderful If
as positively Christian. Why don't
t surrender yourself to him, Blake?
will never regret it as long as you
if you do."
beaton paused, and Edward sat
lng out of tbe window at the drip-
branches of the big elm near by.
was distinctly displeased with
aton at first "Confound the fel
' he was saying within himself
Wheaton was speaking. "Why
tld be pick out today of all days to
ch bis association religion to me?"
n as Wheaton went on a curious
lge of feeling took place in Ed
d's mind. Why should Wheaton
anything about him anyway?
it difference did It make to bim
ther Blake was a Christian or not?
if he really was anxious about the
!are of bis (Edward Blake's) soul
iny reason whatever, what more to
ixpected than that be would seize
opportunity be could to speak on
subject?
Iward was silent so long as he
t over this little monologue that
eaton thought be was perhaps giv
the subject serious consideration.
He did not venture to break tne si
lence, and Edward at last said slowly:
"I'm much obliged to you, Wheaton,
for your interest in me. I'm afraid I
don't deserve it"
"That's not the question," began
Wheaton eagerly. "I believe you don't
realize all you are missing as you go on
with your college course. A Christian
faith In your own life would make a
wonderful change in It."
"Am I so bad as all that?" asked Ed
ward, with a slight laugh, beginning to
feel rise In himself suddenly that un
reasoning anger that he had felt before
when Wheaton had spoken to him.
"No, you dou't understand. But
there Is a great difference In the life
that has put Chrh't into everything
and the life that does not call lilm
Lord. 1 wish you. could see It clearly."
Edward was silent again, and Wheat
tn looked and evidently felt disap
pointed. As Edward made :o sign cf
saying anything. Wheaton rose.'
"I'm sorry If I've Intruded on you.
Blake, or said something 1 ought not.
Some day perhaps you'll understand
my motive. I pray the Holy Spirit
may move your heart and bring you
Into the kingdom."
He walked over to Edward simply
and hold out his hand. Edward felt
ashamed of himself, because he knew
he had treated Wheaton rudely. He
tried to offer a word of apology.
"I don't question your Interest In
me, Wheaton. even If 1 don't under
stand It. And of course 1 don't forget
what 1 owe you for your kindness dur
ing my sickness. I'll always remem
ber that with the greatest gratitude.
I hope you will be back In the fall."
"Thank you. I hardly think 1 shall.
I shall not be satisfied, Blake, until I
hear that you have given yourself to
Christ."
He shook hands seriously and went
away, leaving Edward standing by the
window, hardly knowing whether to
feel vexed at the Interview or pleased
at Wheaton's Interest In him.
It was still raining quite hard, and
there was nn hour yet before supper.
So he stood aimlessly by the window
for a few moments more after Wheat
on had gone. As he stood there look
ing out he saw Professor Clark come
out of the chapel and start down the
stops toward his house, which was
thrne or four blocks farther down tht
bill. The professor was very absent
minded, and If he brought an umbrella
with him lie had probably forgotteu
It or handed It to some one else who
had forgotten to return It.
Edward rnught up his own umbrella,
put on his hat and ran down the stairs
and across the way. He overtook the
professor Just ns he went out of the
college gates. It had boguu to rain
harder.
"Take the utv.hrolla. sir, and I will
run hack to the hall." he said.
"No, no. Vo.-. go with, me, Blake.
Thank you I re.'il'y owu several dozen
umbrellas somewhere, but other peo
ple are nwrt.nhlv cnrrvlng them when it
rains. Which should you say was
worse, owning umbrellas that other
people carry or carrying umbrellas
that other peoplo own?"
"I should question the political econ
omy of either," replied Edward, laugh
ing. He had come to have a genuln
liking for Professor Clark and did not
stand at all In awe of him.
"It certainly is worse for me to own
so many umbrellas and never have one
when it rains. If thoughtful people
like you didn't look after me, 1 expect
I should buy even more umbrellas than
I do. Thank you very much. Won't
you come In a minute, Blake?" he ask
ed when they reached tbe house, and
Edward went in for a moment.
He sat and chatted easily with the
professor a few minutes and then rose
to go. Tbe professor went out into the
hallway with him.
"I expect to leave for the east tomor
row and probably shall not see you
again before next fall, Blake. There
is one thing I have, been wanting to
say to you ever since the meetings last
winter. You ought to be a Christian
man, Blake, and throw all your Influ
ence on the side of the best things In
Hope. Perhaps I'm wrong In taking
"Take (he umbrella, rtrl"
for granted that you are not a Chris
tian. Am I?"
"No, sir; I don't call myself a Chris
tian," replied Edward awkwardly.
"Better. decide it then; the sooner the
better. God bless you, Blake. Good
by." "Goodby, sir," and Edward put up
bis umbrella and marched up tbe hil)
through the rain which was now pour
ing down steadily.
He went up to his room for a few
moments before supper, thinking about
Professor Clark's last words. They
bad been very few; but, coming so
soon after Wheaton's, they affected
him more. He bad great respect for
Professor Clark and believed in tbe
sincerity of bis Christian life. He
could not help wondering If be spoke
to other students as he had twice spo
ken to him. It was or had been such
in unusual custom for the proressora
ever to say anything about Christian
ity to the students In Hope college that
Edward may be pardoned If he bad
some feeling of wonder over tbe Inci
dent In his own experience.
After supper he went over to the
ladles' hall to take Freeda to the prom
enade concert. This was usually held
on the campus, but when it rained as
It did that night the concert was trans
ferred to tbe cbapel halls and became
Siore like a reception.
Miss Seton bad a bad headache and
rould not go. Edward felt much disap
pointed at first, for he had been looking
forward to the evening and anticipat
ing her company with Freeda.
As he and Freeda went along togeth
er toward tbe chapel Freeda said,
when they were in the middle of the
walk by the library:
"Ned, do you remember whnt I said
about Ida and and Willis once?"
"Yes," replied Edward, wondering.
"Of course there was uothiug In that
it was the nearest to a lie that I ever
came. Only at the time I was trying to
got the better of my own feelings. 1
know that Ida never cared for him."
Then she added as they drew near the
chapel: "I know your secret, Ned. Is
that the reason you understood my
trouble so weil?"
"Yes." said Edward slnipiy as they
went up the steps.
The president was holding an anl-,
mated though Informal reception In the
lower ball, and after chatting with the
other professors aud students Edward
came up aud shook hands. The crowd
was very noisy, laughing and talking
very loud, and the president was stand
ing very close to Edward as he said a
few simple words of greeting.
"You're going home this summer, I
understand, Blake?"
les, sir. I've sold my route and ex
pect to buy another oue In the fall.
Mother needs me on the farm this sum
mer." He moved away as another group
was coming up. and the president lean
ed his tall form over and said lit a low
tone that only Edward could hear:
"My boy, 1 have been praying for
you all this year that you might be
Christ's man. I want to see you start
right next fall. Better begiu tonight.
Goodby, aud God bless you."
Edward moved ou and spent the rest
of tbe evening with the other students.
About 10 o'clock he went out with
Freeda, and as It had cleared up they
strolled around the familiar walk past
the library and out upon the middle
campus. Freeda had refused several
other Invitations from the students to
go with a group down on the hill walk.
She preferred beiug with Edward on
this last day of the term.
They walked quite a long way with
out speaking, and thou Freeda began
to talk about their throe years lu col
lege. Edward was more silent than
usual at first, but afterward became
quite talkative. He grew confidential
and told Freeda something about bis
feelings for Miss Seton. Freeda could
not give bim much consolation, al
though she said she thought Ida admir
ed Edward greatly.
"What was the president saying to
you?" Freeda asked as they finally
turned back to the. library wall; and
went on toward the ladles' hall.
"He asked me about my summer
plans. You k"now I've sold the route
to Rawlins In order to get Barnes'
route, . It's nearer college and prac
tically as good as the avenue route."
"I mean what be was saying to you
as be leaned over and spoke to you all
alone? I was Just coming up and had
to watt a minute."
"He spoke to me about being a Chris
tian. That's the third person who has
spoken to me about that today."
Freeda was silent a moment, and
then she said quietly: "Let me be the
fourth person, Ned. Why aren't you a
Christian? I've had a good many anx
ious thoughts about you this year.
Mother would be so glad too. Some
times I think It's the only filing you
need to make you perfect."
"'One thing thou lackest,' eh?" said
Edward, with unaccustomed levity,
and then he lapsed into silence, which
I was unbroken until they reached the
ladles' hall.
As he Staid good night to Freeda he
added, "I don't want to disappoint you
and mother, Freeda.".
"I hope you won't, Ned." she replied
gently as she went up the' steps.
He walked slowly back to his room
and went in and for a few minutes sat
down by bis window In darkness,
thinking over the events of the day.
Then he got up and lighted his lamp.
As he turned from the table he hap
pened to think of his letter box that he
had not looked into since noon.
He went over to the door and found
one letter there. Ho was glad It was
from his mother. He sat down at the
table at once and opened the letter.
His mother did not write ,to him very
often. She was not a college bred wo
man and had lived a life of hard phys
ical labor, but there was no one In all
the world who had more Influence
over Edward, and he always read her
letters with a reverence and respect
that he never felt for any other person.
The letter contained a short account
of affairs on the farm, then went on to
speak of Edward's uncle and aunt and
finally referred to Edward's and Free
da's college course:
It hat been a Jot to me, Edward, to .think of
you and Freeda receiving an education. In your
last letter you spoke of a fpp'lng of fgret on your
part that I was slaving so hard on the farm, while
you and your sister were havlnir such an eaay
time in college, hut you ought to know, dear aon,
that I count no hardshil of any. account by the
aide of the love I have for vou Vou may ba
wondering why I am writin-r 1 hi- letter now, to
near your home coming ti.'ul at x time while you
must be ao busy, at cmnpicm-c!.nl time, but
two nights ago as I Inv levake. t iwtml morning,
I had an experience 1 bat pruni'iil this letter,
teemed to hear a voice -in to m- "Your i
Edward la a good boy. trci ''ul. .i.nci m
in most things, free fren r ir-- n-.. ' ,
not a professed disciple "f I 1-r. ' up ' nr-
Joined church nor tn-;r'! ,i. . c. . ,
One thing he lacks. niH ''.0v s ,; rf.( .
tU. He needs to repent . ' b. " ,11 order 1
be aaved." ,
You know I am not .imi .utive in the least,
Wi I timply" believe that what I heard was nut
Spirit speaking to me In your behalf. And I could
aot resist the feeling that I ought to write you
tnd urge you to give yourself to Christ Why
ihould you stand outside the kingdom, my ton,
looking on at the ttruggle of the ages and possl
aly criticising it because you feel as good as any
one? Give your heart to him who gave us all.
1-nt.r th kingdom like little child, Edward.
You have a great work to do in. God'l world, it
be shall apare you. Vou wrote in your last letter
that you might decide to give up being a doctor
ind become a public speaker and write for t liv
ing. It makes little difference to me what par
ticular thing you do in the world, but it makce
111 the difference in the world whether you are t
Christian or not. That it the main thing, after
111. Seek first the kingdom, my son. If you sue
seed in all worldly affairs and know all knowl
tdge and do not know and love God supremely, it
vill not profit you anything.
You do not doubt my love for you, do youf
IVhy should you doubt the love of Ood for youf
He gave his own Bon for your salvatlyn. Why
tiould you be careless in the face ot that great
ttonementf He died for you, Ned, the same as
lor me. Oh, my dear aon, your mother la grow
ing older and more feeble every year! I shall
soon pasa over to the other side. But it will be
the best day of my whole life when you tell me
that you have decided to give your heart to God
nd believe in hia redemption through Christ.
May the Holy Spirit a he pleada with you be
illowed to enter your heart and will and lead you
by his almighty power to the feet of Jesus. Your
loving Mother,
Edward finished the letter and let It
lie open on the table. First Wheaton
and then Frofessor Clark, then the
president and Freeda, and now this
culminating letter from his mother.
Aud nil these appeals on one subject,
tis if all the persons making thera had
been consulting together.
Why was he not a Christian? He
believed In everything that was good
and true and pure. Why did he not
believe In Christ? .The question drove
all the other memories out of his mind.
He had thought a good deal during the'
first part of the day about Willis, won
dering what his future would be. He
had thought about Miss Seton and
wondered If Be would ever gather up
courage enough to teU her what be
felt. He had thpught of his own fu
ture and bad more than once specu
lated on the ambition he was beginning
to have for authorship and the public,
platform. But now, near the close of
tne day, near the midnight hour, alone
in his room, with that sacred appeal of
his mother's lying before him, he could
not shut out this one thought. Why
was he not a Christian man? What
was keeping him back? Was this
question of the age, "What think ye of
the Christ?" going to face him contin
ually? What difference would It make
with his future? All the difference In
the world he himself knew well
enough. Iid Wheaton and Clark and
the president and Freeda and his
mother really believe that he would be
lost if he did not believe in Christ?
Evidently they did. Put would he?
Was he not moral and truthful and
honest? What more was required?
"Yet one thing thou lackest" The
young man who asked Jesus what he
must do to Inherit eternal life was
moral What did he lack? Acknowl
edgment of Jesus as master of his
whole lire. Was he, Edward, ready to
do that? Or did he shrink from that
absolute following of the divine Peas
ant of Galilee because it would change
(Continued on page 7.)