The Oregon daily journal., December 27, 1908, Page 24, Image 24

rj
r" i
ID I ever tell 70a of the most memor
able visit to Arapahoe?" asked the
'bishop, looking up from the magazine
with which he had beguiled the last
hour of the journey.
- "No," I replied, "that waa before my time, I believe.
I was a newcomer in the diocese, comparatively apeak
big." , MY'-V
Yes," answered the bishop. ? "Something la thU
..,. paper recalled rt to me. j.nu nonet 01 ine irving-
Terry performance of Macbeth fa New York with the
' pictures, you know," he added, handing me the book,;
"What connection is there, bishop, between your
most memorable visit to Arapahoe and the IrvingV
" Terry performance of Macbeth f
' "Not any," said the bishop, "except that It reminded
,' me of another theatrical performance which I attended '
V in Arapahoe. I am not one of those clergymen who
join hi the clerical hue and cry against theaters," he
J continued reflectively. "In fact, I think the theater
may be t means of grace and that good play is up-
lifting and elevating.'' '
religious party of the town, which I am happy to say
turned out to be in a considerable majority, the con
gregation, or the opposition, was forced to leave it
funs with the Ushers, and we gor through all right. '
hey used to cay it was Sunday only when the bishop
came around. But 1 have changed all that," continued
the 'old pioneer, al a quiet smile of satisfaction over
', spread hi face. ' '
"But about the theater, bishop?"
"I'm coming to that. I became so popular, in fact,
that there was not a 'show that could rival the church,
so the boys put it On church nights,' which were only
once every three monthsand perhaps that accounts
i for their popularityeverything else shut up shop and
the services were crowded. I always preached to them
' the very best I knew how. I remember one of the ex-
pressions of appreciation of .my efforts which came
from the city marshal. ',
"Wot we like about you, Right Reverend," he said,
using the quaint form of address, 'is that you don't
never play your congregation fer a fool, w'ich we may
be but .we don't like to be told of it You alius seems
to give the best you kin to us, the best you got in the
deck,' he addedy
barrier between, them Quite perceptible to ft close1
observer, and both appeared to be supremely miser
able. My loquacious friend, the manager, confided
: to me that Mr. Montague, 'which his real .flame is '
J Henry Pearce and he is a 1 young man- of very re- '
spectable family, is in love with Miss Sylvester, which
her real name is Mary Bates,: and it's her as is.
talked about for something or , other, the rights of "
which I don't know, but I stake my life on her honor
and honesty.' . ... . ..
"She looked like an honest girl, and I would have
backed up the manager's confidence myself. Well; the
day dragged along somehow. A funny little thing
happened at Sewaygo,j where we ate. By this time
I was one of the party, and dined at the same table
with the rest of them at the railroad eating house.
I finished my meal before the others, rose, walked
over to the cashier's desk and handed him a ten
dollar bill You know I wasn't very strong on cleri
cal costumes in that day, and I was dressed, in an
ordinary bUsinessr suit very dusty and much -the worse
fori wear. As the cashier took the bill I was aston
ished to have him ask. 'Are you payin for yourself
alone, or for your whole patty, sir?" -In -the
uf the cashier I was the' manager of the party, so
much for my episcopal air and authority! ,
"A few miles from Arapahoe the manager of the
local Opera House, who was also -the Warden of the
Mission and the City Marshal, boarded the train in
crrat nerturbation. He was in hard luck, for it was
church night, and he told me the manager of the tra-
- mean our show a little late. Say you have your'rti
at quarter past seven, an we'll have our'n at quarter
to nine. And r we'll do more than that,' he added
hastily, lest I should decide before I had heard all
that he had to offer. We'll all come to your aho
services I mean if you come to ours, and we'll give
you a part of the proceeds to-night to help the church.'
'What did you do, bjshopf" ,1 asked.
''Well" answered the old man, "I promptly accepted
iwo propositions and rejected ; the third. -
"I said that I wouldn't take 'any of their money.
From the looks Of things they needed it all, and my
. friends in Arapahoe were so generous that the church
jn that particular section lacked nothing. The, church
in Arapahoe hat always been more or less unique,
you see. 1 think that one reason I decided , so
promptly was because I intercepted an appealing
glance, a piteously appealing glance, I might say, from
Miss Sylvester when she heard the proposition. She
came to me after the two managers had retired to
discuss their arrangement and clasped my hand im
pulsively. ,' vk r...k-.y :-;., -V:V :; ,y N" V
" Uttr ahe said, 'i am so glad you are going to.
-clerk sayThere is the bishop" office, Miss Sylveste'
I've no doubt he will be glad to see you.'
' "There wa no pther exit from, the room save th.
door leading into the bedroom. As Miss Sylvestet .
approached the parlor door I motioned to Mr. Mon
tague who immediately went in to the bedroom and
closed the door,.: ." (i ;v -v,'- :rr: . -i -J -r;y . y
'"It was the woman side of the situation. Mr."
Montague loved her and she returned hit affection,
but she had refused to become hi wife. She had
even ; prevented him from" declaring; himself so fat
as was in her power because ah, here, was the reason!
The story was a sad but not an unusual one, N
"She had lived in St. Louis, the only daughter of
two worthy parents, who had stinted themselve to
give her an education. She had fallen in love with a
man, whose character and reputation did not commend
themselves to the judgment of those, older than she,
who loved her, and in defiance of parental opposition,
he had made a runaway marriage. It was not long
before life became unendurable, she was yoked with '
one tatterly unwdrthy, and, the glamour passing from
tw str .iic .w jiuiiiujg dui misery aneaa. vt
hv church. 1 haven't been. to church for years, it ; course, tht parting came: the old people had died.
y
1
v lit
X
1
seems to . me. and you 'have been so kind to u and
have treated usi so much like re respectable people,
that I wanted to go to your services so much to
night. , - ,
'"I am very glad,' I replied, "that you are to have
the opportunity,' ; - ' x -.. .
f "About this time the train pulled' into the station.
broken-hearted by her conduct che believed, and he
wai aDsojuieiy- aione.
"Chance, to make long tory fhort, threw her Into
the company of the good people, with, whom she was
acting. She had a pretty tittle turn for1 elocution, and
ahe had supported , herself,; wretchedly and meagerly
. - u,umc uAiuv iur uie past two
and the townspeople, " informed of the change in the years, by acting. She. had struggled against her af
hour of service and delighted at the prospect of a fection, for Mr.. Montague. : She considered herself
double treat, or at they phrased it. two shows in one
evenin',' immediately busied themselves in spreading
the newt throughout the settlement. The place was ,
smaller in those days han it it now, and it was not
difficult to advise everyone.
"I had, of course, a lot of sermons with me m
my head, that is; you know the first thing you learn
in the West is to 'shoot without a rest.' so thev say.
which is their euphemism for preaching without notes
no fit wife for hini or any, man. but mv sermon had
put a new idea in her mind. Might there not be for
giveness for such a she? God would forgive her.
Would man? Jn the play he would not. - Which was
true and which was false? Love divine could make
excuse, would love human?. v ,
" 'You saw me act to-night, bishop. I never played
like that before. I was myself on that stage, confess
ing and pleading for forgiveness which he would not
and I had previously selected a theme for the evening, i grant.'
but something, I did not know what, unlest it were "'My child,' I said, 'it seems to me that while you
have done grievously wron$ m running away from
home and wilfully disregarding the appeal and corn-
Providence, turned mv thoughts in another direction
and I chose that text of Scripture, i 'Neither do If
condemn thee: go, and sin no more.1 And I deter-,
i mined to preach upon forgiveness, as exemplified in
.that exquisite Incident cited by St John, as ihe very
first lesson In Christian practise. ' '
"you sec, the first tmng a man expects is forgive
mands of those who loved you, and whose judgment
you were bottnd to respect, and have broken the Com
mandment that says, 'Honor thy father and mother,'
yet you have been more sinned against than sinning.
I see nothing, since you are so repentant, which
nesi, although it is usually the last thing he wisher would prevent you from being the wife of any honest
to bestow. There has fbeen much discussion about man who loved you, if you loved him. The man you
that chapter," said the bishop, "and it is believed, you fiarrled, where is he?
know, to be an interpolation, but whether it it or not.
I, for one, am convinced that it represents a true
incident, and I bless the interpolator, whoever he may
have been. -
"There was something in the girl Miss Sylvester,
'to caliber by her stage name,-which kept recurring
to me when I thought over the points "of the sermon.
Not that she" looked bad, only troubled. Beneath her
indifferent hardness, or , her. forced pleasantry, there
was an undercurrent 01 agony, sucn as omy comes
T1 .V, fl-,.V.A -..a .t. ..t. L. a.
a', itvaiibu uui vuivuii iter mr.
Go to Mr. Montague,' I replied protaptly, tell him
the whole truth and let him decide
"T can't IL-ahe wailed. 'He respects me now. He
loves me. I'm afraid to put him to the touch. I'm
afraid to confess and let him decide. Twould kill me
to lose that affection. Indeed, I could not bear to
"' have him fall below the standard I have set for him
in pyjieart, and it.ne aoesn't forgive, if be ceases
to love me,"" I shall die. I've lost faith once in hu-
i rom great sorrow, ana too often in a woman' case manity and have only alowly recovered it If I lose
the sorrow is based upon well, at any rate, I thought it again I shall los faith in pod.'
naro over tne sermon, ana wnen tne services came vinere wa much that war true in her words, I
off I think I never preached better in my Jife. thoifght, taid the bishop, digressing for the moment,
"The thoughts were very old, as the ttory itself - "for our faith in God depends upon bur faith in man
Is old, but I pointed Out in a way which was told me j to a greater extent than we dream of.
afterward was very convincing, the duty of forgive- j . " You need not confess anything,' at that moment
'AS YOU WILL TAKE MX At I AM," H tttO. "YOU WItX TORCIVI MB AND LOVg UK W SWTt Of1
, "Do you $peaV from experience?" I asked.
"Well, no, that is, not exactly. Of course, when I
as a young man I remember going to theaters more
or less, but since 1 have been ordained I think I have
' only been twice. Once when I was taken by my host
'tand hostess in New York to see this Irving-Terry
performance a few yeart ago, and the other time at
Arapahoe. .But these two visits convinced me that
s. the theater can sometime teach a needed lesson."
"Arapahoe," continued the old man and now that
, I had him fairly started I breathed softly so as not to
t: interrupt him or check the current of his thoughts,
. hoping that I should get one of the stories we young
t sters prized to much from this veteran "Arapahoe
; used to be one of the toughest places on the border.
t When I first decided to start services there I wrote
v to the only man in the town whose name I knew, and
announced my intention. He said I could come along
and that they would fix things up for me in good shape.
t The railroad wasn't built there in those days, and the
last thirty miles of the journey had to be made by
.. wagon over the trait I was astonished when I reached
the station to find some twenty-five or thirty horse-
men portentously armed and picturesquely costumed
gathered about the wagon which had been provided
for me, who declared that they constituted themselves
my escort w - v:.-;:i:.
"I learned en route from my communicative friend
who drove the wagon, that there was some little an
tagonism to holding religious services in the town;
- and, a the opposition had organized, a church party
had been gathered together to see fair play and, as
? they phrased it, They wasn't goin' to see no shootin'
done agin the, minister les'n they c'd take a hand I'
You -.may imagine," continued the bishop, smiling at
the recollection, "that I did not feel very comfortable
even when I looked at my stalwart defenders. How
ever, ia accordance with regulations prescribed by the
WclL that being the case in Arapahoe, you can
imagine that the managers of various wandering the
. atrical enterprises as were likely to visit such places,
were careful to avoid church nights. One day, how
ever, on this very railroad, after it was built into the
town, I fell In with a traveling theatrical company
headed for Arapahoe. I made friends with them, of
course. They seemed to be respectable people, enough.
The manager, a veteran player, assured me, 'I-don't
allow any immoral plays in my show. We're poor
end have to do bum towns' I'm trying to quote his
elegant phrases 'but I try to be respectable, myself,
and to have everybody in my company decent-like.
He confided to moin secret that there was only one
member of his present troupe about who.n people
talked, and he assured me that he didn't believe what
' was said about her.
"I made the acquaintance of all of them, and they
talked freely to me about their experiences and ad
venturet, and certainly they had a difficult life and a
hard one." " -.'":
"Almost as hard as being a peripatetic missionary?"
I suggested.
"Oh, much harder than that," said the bishop cheer
fully, "I enjoy that, so .far as I am concerned; but f
the two who interested me most were a young man
. whose . name was Victor Montague-at least that wa v
his theatrical name and a young woman who was
introduced to me as Miss Carlotta Sylvester. She
had been a charmingly pretty girL although she looked
tired, and faded, and somewhat haggard, as if there
was something on her mind which, preyed upon her
and rendered her life miserable. It appeared to me j
" that Mr, Montague , was very much in love with Miss;
Sylvester, and by all the signs and you know I am :
a pasrmaster In such affairs," laughed the old man,
"for I have. had so many young couples on my hands i
that the reciprocated his feelings, but there was a
veling company, that h and his troupe would have
no show against the - bishop, that he had tried to
head them off but had failed to do so, an4 he did
not know what to do. The two consulted in the end '
of the car and finally came back to where I tat.
'"Right Reverend,' said the warden, 'we're up agin .
it hard. You know, bein' a religious an' a law-abidin'-town
we alius gives the- church a hearty support an'
there ain't nothin' an' nobody as is more welcome in
these yere parts than you be. We shuts down the
saloons, w'ich the barkceps says they wants to go to
church as much as anybody. It's alius Sunday when
you comes around. . But we've made a mistake in,
the dates somehow or n'other, an' we've got a show
billed fer to-night: Now this'-yere man,' pointing to
the manager, 'set you've been speakin' to him durin
the day an' he set you've been treatin' him w'ite, w'ich
you alius doe everybody, I told him.' He' down on
his luck, he sex, w ich he's been in breakdowns, an'
wrecks, an' washouts an' has had poor house, n
mobs, an' now .. he' run up agin the church. He
want to make a proposition to you, art' I've told
him you'd deal fair with him if any man would.' .
v '"Mr.-Bishop,' said the manager, 'what he says it
al) true. . We've had a terrible time. This is the las?
of our season, the company is goin' to disband, as
soenraa it gets back to Kansas City, an'. if I don't get
some"" receipts to-night and to-morrow beln as to
morrow's Saturday, we're goin' to have a matinee
I' don't see how I can pay the salaries to those
.'poor people that' due them, or get them back to
civilization. We're' goin' to givtr a clean,, moral show.
: No Uncle-Tom's-Cabin affair, doctor, but it's re
spectable .an' anyone can . see it with pleasure. We .
hear from Bill here that there ain't no show for us
in Arapahoe - unless you help us out "What I-pro-
. posa is this. If you'll have your show I mean your ;
services little earlier, we'll have our services I
, v r coPTBGirr tnt . . ' ' t '
. - ' s x ' - '
nest and how Jesus Himself, in touch with the gross
est tort, of aberration, forgave it. -
"The theatrical people were all there, although to
keep his promise the manager had been compelled to
go without his supper, he had been to busy arrang-
ing for the performance. The most interested listener '
in the congregation crowded jnto the saloon-church"
was the young woman. On the other ride of the room
from her Mr. Montague followed the sermon with
scarcely less eagerness. You know, when you are
preaching, sometime without volition yoq direct your
argument to one or two in the congregation, ana my
appeals and exhortations seemed to be aimed straight
at those two young persons. v: V;
."Well, after the services, I went to the play, as
I had promised, and the whole congregation did like
wise, for the managir had kept his promise faithfully.
At I remember, it wa rather a poor play, but very
respectable."
Miss Sylvester played the leading part, and though
I suppose, ordinarily she , would be considered an in
different actress, yet when she confessed the past, in
vhich she had been more sinned against than sinning,
and the hero of the playV depicted by Mr. Montague,
save her up, her acting; was a marvelous surprise.
o real and natural did it teem that 1 almost felt that
they were not playing parts but speaking the truth
Ihere on that stage. There was such agony, tuch
lieartrendihg appeal to her lover for mercy, in the
avoman's voice that it did not seem possible that he
rould reject her even on the stage. The Opera House
rang with applause, and. there were teart in many a
2-ough cowboy't eyet when, the girl died, still begging
for forgiveness. - '
I wai thinking sadly over the whole situation," and
the face and voice of the girl fairly haunted me. My
reverie was broken by a tap orf.the door. When I
rpened it Mr. Montague came in. He was very much
perturbed and without any preliminaries burst out
that he had come to tee me on a very important 'matter.
: "He told me , in the most direct fashion that he
wildly cloved Miss Sylvester; that he had seen her
play in the little town in which he lived a few months
before; that he had been so infatuated with her that
he had given up his business he was a lawyer had
followed her and had finally been engaged in the com
pany.
tut intentions were -ot the most honorable c
bar-
cter. He wanted to marry her and take her away
from the life she was leading. He had some - little
property of his own, was a college man, ' learned in
the law, and had no fear-but that he could support
her comfortably.- Latterly he had heard rumors. He
had received an anonymous letter, and though he be
lieved' her as sweet and pure a woman as ever lived,
yet stories of so circumstantial a character had been
brought to him, with little corroborative evidences,
that he did not know what to do. He was in a state
of perfect despair. ' "
- Mlave ' you spoken to her of. these stories,' t
asked. , -
"'No,' he replied. -
"'Or thown her the letters?' - i - ' '
"'No,' I couldn't. They'd insult any honest woman.
Kowk bishop,' he continued, 'I've come to you for - Montague turning' to me.
exclaimed Mr." MonUzue. who had onened the door
and entered the room,
''What' cried the girl, springing to her feet in
piteoui dismay. Wer you there? Did you hear?
"I did evervthlmr
"'And you.'eirl' turning fiercely on me, 'were you
party to tni deception r Uid you allow me to tell
you the most tecret thought of my heart in confes
sion with that door open ta that he, of all men, could
hear?
" 'The bishop I entirely innocent," returned Mon
tague promptly stepping nearer to her. 'He saw me
close the door. I opened it again on my own account
You were neither of you looking that way, and neither
Of you noticed. It wasn't the right thing to do, I'll
admits but I love you, and I love you more than ever
now.. I intended to-night after what. I had said to
the bishop, and what he preached about forgiveness
to us, and the play, you know, to have told you not
to confess anything to me, for there wa nothing I
could not and would not ; forgive, if you loved me
. and were free to marry me. I am sorry I didn't tay
it before I heard you lay that you bad suffered to
severely, and how you had been wronged. - Now it is
I who should plead (forgiveness, for having doubted
you for a single moment. Don't shrink away from
me. I (ove you more and more, and if. you give me
a. chance to lead you back to happiness and restore
your lost faith in -humanity, 1 will undertake the task
to gladly that I will bless you forever for the op
portuolty.' ' . '
" 'And you will take me as I am," she cried. ,You
will forgive me and love me ht spite of
"'In spite of, nay, because of, everything,' he cried.
"They had . entirely , forgotten me," laughed the
bishop, "and it was almost like a scene from the play
we had just witnessed. Perhaps because they were
player there was a little touch of the theatrical about
them, for he knelt at her feet, clutching a fold of her
dress as he pleaded with her. When she yielded to
his" importunities, as what woman could have resisted,
she put both hand upon his shoulders and bent and
kissed him. ; -,
"'It is I,' she said, 'who should kneel at your feet,
not you at mine.'
"Then I. coughed violently to remind them that I
was there. Hand in hand they came to me..
" "Oh,i bishop 1 cried the girl, Tm so glad you came.
You have beeii to us like an angel from Heaven.' .
" 'My services are not ended, I trust,' I suggested.
"'No,' said the-, young man promptly. "When shall
: it be?' he continued, turning to the girl. " ,
"'Whenever you like,' she answered frankly, there
is no one to consult and nothing to hinder, if you are
sure' ,
I'm very sure.
"Then let it be
"'No, she -answered smiling, and her face was
fairly transformed, by the happiness of the new situa
tion. 'Let it be to-morrow in the church where the
bishop taught" us that, forgiveness was the first lesson
of the Christian life.' . ' ' :
'Will you be , feady to officiate, sir?. aske3 Mr.
advice. I never heard a sermon like that you preaclAd
this evening. It was in my mind all through rle
play. Did you notice the earnestness with which
Miss Sylvester played her-part? We have acted in
that piece a number Of times, and never before has
she Impressed me as shedid then. . It was almost as
if she were really pleading for forgiveness. I love
tier more than life itself,' and yet there are some
thing's suppose it's true? Can 1 forgive her? - What
shall I do?'
"We were, interrupted just here shy the sound of
footsteps in the hall. Outside the door I beard the
With the greatest pleasure.' I replied, there belnir
no obstacle to prevent, as I, learned by questioning
them. - t- .--'
. "So, on the rxt morning mV. Victor Montague and
Miss Carlotta Sylyester disappeared forever from pub
lic view7 while I united them in the holy bonds of
matrimony under their proper names of Mary Bates
and Henry Pearce. . - -
"Arapahoe !" shouted the conductor, thrnsting nit
head in the doorway, as the train bumped together
and slowed down . by. the station platform. "All out
for Arapahoe I" N . ,. f
. ' : ' 1
.w