The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 20, 1904, Page 9

e w day for such a ser- s fulfilling all ises made in early spring. e year ek just ended human nature had not rong in him. He told one ly truth about him 1at the o glad now that he had ucceeded In overtaking him he had trapped a few t of season, but had sent the to the sick—had done a s not strictly in Iting for a few momen ble to see two dogs fi ready to list down in his In’ for every man.” bl b “But he is waiting for one in par- er arose and gave out tieular.” ses written by “If you mean me, let me correct d then looked a little. He can’t get me, for I bel benches the Savior when he said he died om. Old save sinners.” hroat and “You do not belleve the Savior; you n and Sister Buck- Bave denied h sermon was d u shake hands are crowdin’ on “Limuel,” said about to ask for ht fallen on you?” w, but I am a lit- women folks go on nesses as to what the preacher off a chew of his twist. I am glad that it struck home.” “Ah, hah. Glad, I reckon, that it scared that little girl. Wait a moment. I have listened to you, so now you lis- ten to me awhile” He slowly wiped his knife on his trousers, snapped it and put it into his pocket. “As I sat in yonder just now, brother, I could hardly believe that I wasn’t away back where the world was when I found it— just ripe for destruction. The first picture that was drawed for me was of little children in torment, and I went to bed and cried nearly all night be- causo I felt that nothin’ was of any use. My poor mother was scared and my father was afraid to say much, for there was the preacher ready to snatch away any encouragement. e had all of us been condemned from the first and unless we did an impossible task there was no hope. But as I grew older THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. 0“108& -Of- 'Old ‘Lim-J ' A¥D ALz 7k TIME HEDL WAS A coolin’ oy o g ucldin . B2 OPpIE READ B wtlls Ehath Wie s s bt because the young men are more the ripe juices of autumn, and liberal. They are not so set in creed _ e air there was that melancholy and therefors they are kinder s that makes man think, that hearted.” k upon his neighbor as “Jucklin, it !s not for you to talk On a bench not far from lf;krehthh. You would have me tried < esy. Ipht SN8 Shui Sy dul Mg “Brother, where ove man i tried i to surrender himself to the in- for heresy, twenty are dropped for nces of the sermon. During the narrowness. Put that.in your pipe i s = smokae. Did you see that It girl truth .na(v he was a liar, had clinging to her mother? It w ake a horses with a chicken ped- long time to get that awful p " < Satan, and youll a it out one ot 5 these days. Jdck- boule- lin, T thought you wanted to alk P s about the - of your sou t here you are scoff- . “Oh, no, I'm 1 scoffin’ at Jove; an ' the gospel is love: t a figu- sweetest % n was ever ed g I upon & helpless t world. And it seems strange that at is 1 debt. The slave ships were all sunk. songht opportunity. Come.” say onc ing press They went out into the woods and People were better fed and better keepin’ folks from go! ek sat down on a log. A gray squirrel clothed. inuvx m;wi ‘;zd the agent £ v ped at them. “Limuel, is it about o £ 5 evil. ou didn't stop to reco 2 mule tr 10y sermon that you wish to talk?” Books filled up the empty shelves In 135¢ upless the Bible had been pr s b broke “Yes,” sald the old man, cutting the country. Newspapers with their you never would have had one. el man, 1 white wings flew everywhere. And all go ahead, preachin’ your this time hell wag a coolin’ off. It seemed to me that it was almost ready for irrigation till you turned loose to- day. What made you do it? Don't an- swer me now—jest let me talk; but what made you do it? Don't you know thal God s gettin’ so good that some of the churches have to meet every once in a while to acknowledge it? Don't you know that after all it is love and not fear that moves this old world? You sing ‘Oh, for a closer walk with God," and you make such a thing im- possible. You make him a destroyer instead of a builder. You would take away the softness and the holy sweet- ness of the Savior, and when that's done all is done that can be done for evil. Instead of a great book of wis- dom you make the Bible a threat, backed up by the devil. You would have the people read it with fright- ened eyes, and I want to tell you that ra k to you alone out the world appeared to get better. The when 2 man’s scared he can’t learn mouthplece is one buiit like a big morn- grapes are purple rocks In the graveyards sald that the anything to speak of. The people are ing glory and colored accordingly, re - s . dead folks were all right. Humanity growin’' all the time, and so is the white or blue. They very showy, I I thank you for this long- had done away with imprisonment for church, but some of you preachers and dealers expect a big sale for them. B — ] [ want to pull back. Do you'know why all over the country there is a dispo- sition to put out the old preachers and to take In the young ones? It is and smoke it a while.” “I don't smoke, sir. “But you would have everybody else out of her mind. And may be by time that one is wiped out j ready with another one, and grows up and glances abo light of pure truth she w and pity your ignorance.’ “Jucklin, I know o devil s walting for.” “Accordin’ to your story he’s walt- “No, brother, hi denied yec and the devil. N let me tell you “Tracts issued by of love that some of you t the pri hate, and the first thing you know you'll be out of a job. You can't con- vince a thinkin’ man that the w which is just as much God’s now as it ever was—Iis worse off than it used to be. There are more flowers 1 than the world ever saw before. are more human hearts and therefore more human love. God—wisdo comin’ closer; and the devil—ign —is goin® further away. You frown at empty benches, but after a while you ‘t have even a bench. And about time you’'ll see happy people com- in’ out of a new church. That's about all I've got to say.” “Jucklin, you are going to hell.” “Well, not before I get a bita to eat, I hope. Good day.” e The day of the brass megaphon The latest thing in a megaphona over. e D S 0 £ S0 T B S B B 0 S S P S S O S N T T T SN TG S SO S PPN mmrsmmmame el BITJY e O O O ‘When they find this fession, O'Neil,” 1 was that way. cowboys good naturedly. out It'll be over with us. I'N run how ’tis with Patterpat. through myself soon’s I can, and—and as he says, he won't stop easy. It'll be | + stepped 9 the saloc to inducement, there ain’t only one dancer, and that Patterpat. I've been to Frisco and to Kansas City and to Chicago, and I've seen dancin’'—least- to the door of holding his glass so he colors of the interposed one of the “You know If he smells, and e ricoshays an’ scintillates. Now, you drawled another cowboy, aning against the counter, astes and flinging them at iought might not be able d holding his revolver in to meet possible objection his ess, “Patterpat won't a H b1 d the little party of ¢ and gone Eilly ain't to give him a drink “There won't be used to know You 1 out, a newcomer from scontentedly at O’Neil. ducement 'bout that he inquired. “I've mfortable sitting on the have 8ancing down to s fe tty e Ve r go back there,” curtly, “or the counter if you like. As stand right here an’ I'll santer out to the middle of the street. That's him coming yonder and beginning to dodge already. That's the way he used to do, and we had to round him like we would a wild mustang and then fill him up.” Billy Patterpat was a block and a half away, coming on slowly and look- ing from side to side for some avenue of escape. The gradual spreading of the cowboys across the street brought up memories of past experiences and his eyes had begun to grow troubled and full of apprehension. At length he stopped and looked back; but it was too 'ate now. Several of the cow- boys were near their mustangs, and, as he turned, they swung into their saddles and dashed up the street. In a few moments he was in their midst, struggling and protesting, his eyes big with terror of what he felt was comqing. “Don’t you give it to me, gentlemen,” he pleaded. “I'm plain now, and it wouldn’t be right. Ain't danced in six months and ain’t tasted a drop. Don't you make me now.” “Look at that, Billy,” sald O'Neil, holding up a bottle between Billy's eyes and the sun. “Don't that look good? Just see how it smiles! It's the very best in town, and we've got more bottles in waiting. There’'s ten whole glasses for you, Billy, just for you. Think how it'll feel running down your throat, an’ remember how it smells. Lordy! I do feel almost like drinking the whele thing myself. But here, Billy.” He reached out the bottle suddenly and Billy's hands, both of them, went hungrily toward it. His eyes were shining, his lips trembling, his whole form In a quiver; but even then, with an almost superhuman effort, he forced his arms back to his sides. =, o,o/‘ AR .3" el e —— By Frank H. Sweet “Don’t, O’Nell!” “don't, don’t, don’t!’ his voice rising quaveringly. “You know how ’tis with me. Please don't. I don't want - Ay “It'll do you ood,” inflexibly. “You’re getting thin from going with- out it so long and it's better to enjoy the stuff trickling down your throat slow than to- have it poured down in bottles full. You know what we say goes, Billy, and you must drink the whole thing.” Billy dropped upon his knees, “Don’'t,” he repeated dully, “I don’t want to. If T smell it I can’t stop then. You and me's been good friends, O'Neil, and I've danced and—and drunk a lot for you. Let me off this time. And—and if you don’t mind T'd ke to say why.” “Oh, let the poor devil make his con- he Implored; months ago I happened to be up in the country and I saved a girl's life. She was caught by a bear, and—and I sup- pose I acted some brave. Anyhow, she and her folks thought so and took me in. Since then I've been up there, and I afn’t tasted a drop and I've been feel- in’ that mebbe I could make something of myself some time, like I used to think a—a long while ago.”” There was a little catch In his voice, then he went on in lower tones: ‘“Me and the girl was to be married. I came down to- day for a ring and license. They be- lleve in me up there, and I've joined in with them, and,” his eyes suddenly be- came steady and aggressive at a giggle from onpe of the cowboys, “if 'twant for the whisky I believe I could be a good man again; a better one than you could ever be, Danny. But, of course,” his volce again dropped and his hand reached mechanically toward the bot- tle, “this will finish it all. Up there they don’t have anything strong to drink, and—and they never suspected “Seems a pity to splll such good he said regretfully, “but it's got Then, in a louder voice: see that stone ov s the street? Well, every one who's get a bottle shy at that, and the who breaks into the most pieces w go with Billy to see about the ring and license. Then we'll all club in for a present and—" Billy's head went up suddenly. eyes were moist. No, no,” he protested. “I don't want no present, gentlemen, I've been working hard up there and have got some ahead. I'm all right long’s I can keep away from that stuff.” “Shut up, Billy!"” O'Neil retorted un- graciously. *“'Tain’t you; it's a present for the bride. And I reckon we'd ter make It two of our best [ They’ll be handy's anything up a them Mennonite farmers. Now, lers! But O’'Nell was holding the bottle up between his own eyes and the sun. His ‘c one, two, three and v * an ! the last word a bhalf d n I i & more bottles, delivered fro unerring hands, crashed stone. inlight through el w b 4 e £ o s e “winczimk “)',‘ or ways what they call dancin’. But two months before he sobers up. Let poo, b anc thev'll foct sorrys but yoult it \ At I've never seen but one Patterpat. him start in right.” Four dance sarnivil. . Se' we won's \ \ % r's Bllly Patterpat 1y he has to be limbered up with Hilis shot hia.a gratotul 100k all lose. Now you can give me the bot- !\\\ ng the corner. Let's cover the great jags of whisky first. Then his “It's like this” he said, with & pa- té& O'Neil wo Al corral him and then make legs are all wheels and parabolas and e oY thetic eagerness In his volce. “Six \\ |}