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All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on ^he last page with a printed or illustrated impressioi^ The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol ^»> (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc , may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed b iginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as -«4 UNItOKM WITH THIS VOLUME IN The New Kingship Series I The Kingship of Self- Control The Majesty of Calmness • Breaking the Record . . Swan Creek Bli-rzard . Bunny^s Friends . . • Temptation . • Expectation Corner • . Beyond the Marshes Across the Continent of the Years How the Children Raised the Wind How the Inner Light Fuiled • Alone in London . . Bonnie Jean • . Nobody Loves Me Little King Davie • Laddie • • J . Cole • • Christie's Old Organ . Whiter Than Snow Miss Toosey's Mission The Four Men Jessica's First Prayer iessica's Mother . ittle Dot Did the Pardon Come Too Late ? Comfort Pease and Her Gold Ring My Little Boy Blue The Dew of Thy Youth . A Day's Time Table . William George Jordan William George Jordan . Ralph Connor . Ralph Connor Amy lyC Feuvre James Stalker, D.D. . E. 3. Klliott Ralph Connor Newell Dwight Hillis Euna Lyall Newell Dwight Hillis . Hesba Stretton Aunie S. Swan Mrs. O. F. Walton . Nellie Hellis By the author of "Miss Toosey's Mission" - Emma Gellibrand Mrs. O. F. Walton . Mrs. O. F. Walton The author of "Laddie" James Stalker, D.D. .... Hesba Stretton . . . Hesba Stretton Mrs. O. F. Walton Mrs. Ballington Booth M. K. Wilkins Rosa Nouchette Carey J. R. Miller, D.D. E. S. Elliott Brother Lawrence . The Practice of the Presence of God The Fight of Faith and The Cost of Character,Tiieodore Cuy ler, D. D. Where Kitty Found Her Soul One of the Sweet Old Chapters . Hope> The Lost Thing in tlie World The Baritone's Parish The First Thi ig in the World The Greatest Need of the Wo Id The Greatest Thing in the Wo^Id . Eric's Good News Ye Nextc Thynge Mrs. J. H. Walworth Rose Porter A. T. Pierson, D.D. . J. M. Ludlow, D.D. A. J. Gordon, D.D. , Henry Drummond Henry Drummond Author of "Probable Sons" Hk-aiior Amerman Sutphen Agatha's Unknown Way. A Missionary Story . By "Pansy" The Dream of Youth . Hugh Black, M.A. The Spirit Guest . The Story of a Dream. Josephine Rand For Christ and the Church . . . Charles M. Sheldon Lend a Hand ..... Charles M. Sheldon The YoungMan of Yesterday . . . Judge A. W. Tenny One of the Two .... Charles M. Sheldon What the Wind Did ? . . . . Amy Le Feuvre From Girldhood to Womanhood . . Mary Lowe Dickinson Waxwittji Caroline A. Mason, author of "Little Gieen God" How to Learn How .... Henry Drummond The Shepard Psalm . . . . . F. B. Meyer Kept for the Master's Use . Frances Ridley Havergal Keeping Tryst, Author of "Quiet Talks ou Power," S. D. Gordon Jesus Habits of Prayer .... S.D.Gordon A Business Man's Religion . . . Amos R. Wells I w BEYOND THE MARSHES BY RALPH CONNOR AUTHOR OF •• BLACK ROCK " AND " THE SKY PILOT " THE WESTMINSTER COMPANY, (Lin^hcd) TORONTO f ^00 243928 Entered According to the Act of Parliament of Canada in the Year 1900 By The Westminster Company In the office of the Minister of Agriculture. Have you ever caught the scent of the clover as you were whirled away by the train beyond the city on a summer ^s day and sped through the rich pasture lands? And do you remem- ber how you stepped forth at the first halting-place to secure a sprig of the sweet, homely flower that had spoken to you so elo- quently in its own language, and how you pressed it in your book ? Does not its perfume remain with you till this day? And every now and then a fragrance is wafted to our inner senses as we read some simple story which is to us as a breath of the clover, bringing us a message of sweet- ness and beauty, and going straight to our hearts with the power that belongs to the secrets which lie hidden at our life's core. And this sweet prairie idyll is surely one of those fragrant messages which lays its hold on us as we pause for a moment in the midst of our fevered lives and anxious thoughts, and step across the threshold of that chamber where we must needs put our shoes from off our feet, for the place whereon we stand is holy grounds And as we press on again to life's duties, may we bear with us something of the precious perfume diffused by plants which are divine in their origin and which must be divine in their influence* ISHBEL ABERDEEN BEYOND THE MARSHES |HE missionary of the Bonjour field found me standing bag in hand upon the rail- way platform watching my train steam away to the east* He is glad to see me» I am of his own kind, and there are so few of his kind about that his welcome is strong and warm. He is brown and spare and tough-looking* For six months he has driven along the pitching trails and cor- duroy roads, drenched by rains, scorched by suns, and pursued by the flies. As to the flies there is something to be said. They add much to the missionary's burden, and furnish unequaled opportunity for the exercise of the Christian graces of patience and self-controL In early spring they appear, and throughout the whole summer they continue in varying forms, but in unvarying persistence and ferocity. There are marsh flies, the bulldogs, ^^ which take the piece right out,*' the gray wings, the blue devils (local name), which doubtless take several pieces right out, the mosquitoes, unsleeping, unmer- ciful, unspeakable, the sand flies, which go right in and disappear, and the black flies. 44' When do they go away?'^ I asked a native. ^^Oh, them black fellows go away on snow-shoes.^ 8 99 I These each and all have taken a nip and a suck from the mis- sionary as he pushed on by night and by day through their savage territory. I glance at him, and sure enough they seem to have got all the juice out of him, but they have left the sinew and the bone. His nerve, too, is all there, and his heart is sound and under his ribs,'' which one of his admiring flock considers the right spot. It is Saturday afternoon, and we are to drive to the farthest or his three stations to be ready for the Communion Service there, at half-past ten to-mori iw morning. ''Where does it lie?'' I ask. I ^' Oh, away beyond the Marsh- es/^ was the answer. Every one evidently knows where the Great Marshes are. But first we must drink a de- licious cup of tea from a brave young Scotchwoman, who has learned the trick of making a home for her husband and ba- bies amid the limitations of Canadian wilds, little like the Edinburgh home where she her- self was a baby, and which she left not so very long ago# Then we must take a look at the new manse of which the missionary feels he has the right to be modestly proud, for it is mostly the work of his own hand. He, like his great Mas- ter, is a carpenter, and day and 10 night in the pauses of his preach- ing and visiting and studying, he has wrought at it, getting such help as he can, till there tt stands, among the trees, the little cottage manse, announcing to all that the mission has come to stay* The front room, with writing-desk, book-shelf, table, all of the missionary's making, does for reception and dining room, study, and parlor. Behind it is the kitchen, with ingenious cupboards; and opening off from this the bedroom, five by seven, with bedstead and washstand, both home-made, and both nailed fast to the wall Altogether a snug little, tight little house, go- ing a long way to content one with being a bachelor* And now we hitch up Gold- II dust, and are off through the glorious yellow light and purple haze of this September after- noon* Golddust is the mission- ary's horse, and evidently the missionary's weakness. His name, and as his owner thinks his speed, his spirit, and other characteristics, he inherits from his sire. Old Golddust of West- ern racing fame. Old Golddust, if he has transmitted his char- acteristics, must have been a horse of singular modesty, for his son continues resolutely un- willing throughout tiits drive to make any display of his nobler qualities. By an extraordinary piece of good fortune, due to an evil but unfair report of Gold- dust in his young days, ^^they didn't know how to handle him/' the missionary had bought 12 0> . him for twenty- five dollars! One result of the deal has been an unlimited confidence on the part of the missionary in his own horse-dealing instinct. It is quite true that Golddust has not always shown his present mild ^d trustful disposition. Indeed, the missionary goes on to tell how, being loaned for a day to a brother missionary up west, the horse had returned in the evening much excited, but not much the worse, with a pair of shafts dangling at his heels. The missionary brother did not appear till the day following, and then in a shocking bad tem- per. ''He was a Methodist brother, and didn't understand horses''; and the happy, far- away look in the face of his present owner led me to doubt 13 whether that day^s exploit had lowered Golddust in his esti- mation* Meantime we are drinking deep of the delights of this met low afternoon* On either side of our trail lie yellow harvest fields, narrow, like those of east- ern Canada, and set in frames of green poplar bluffs that rustle and shimmer under the softly going wind* Then on through scrub we go, bumping over roots and pitching through holes, till we suddenly push out from the scrub, and before us lie the Marshes* There they sweep for miles away, with their different grasses waving and whispering under the steady blowing breeze, first the red-top, then as the soil grows wet the blue-joint and the 14 swamp grass, and out of the standing water the dark green reeds, and farthest in the tall, wild cane bowing its stately, tas- seled head. These red-top and blue-joint reaches are the hay- lands of the settlers about. Skirting the edge of the Marshes, we push again through straggling scrub, then past more marshes, and into woods where we follow a winding trail till it leads us into a little clearing. In the center of the clearing stands ^'^i^ster of log buildings— stables of different kinds, milk-house, the old shanty, and at a little dis- tance the new house, all look- ing snug and trim. Through the bars we drive into the yard filled with cattle, for the milking time IS on. »5 A shy lad of ten, with sun- burned, freckled face and good blue eyes, comes forward and is greeted as *^ Donald'^ by the missionary. ^^ Hello, Donald, how are you?^^ I ask, opening the con- versation. Donald looks at me and is inaudible, meanwhile un- hitching Golddust with marvel- ous rapidity* ^^ How many cattle have you, Donald ? ^M venture again. Donald evidently considered this a reasonable question, for he answers in delicious Scotch: Ml* !l : V ' ^^ Abou-e-t the-r-r-h-ty. ff What a pity we can find no spelling to reproduce that com- i6 bmation of guttural and aspirate and the inimitable inflection of voice. It is so delightful that I ask him again, and again the answer comes with even more emphasis upon guttural and as- pirate, and an added curve to the mf lection; "Abou-e-t the-r-r-h-ty." My heart goes out to him, and watching his neat, quick work with Golddust, I begin to understand the look of thrift about the yard. It is the mark of the "weel daein" Scot. We go up to the door of the new log house. Before the door are two broad, flat stones washed clean. "Scotch again," I say to myself. Had I not seen them >\ W I in many a Scotch village in front of the little stone cottages>^ thatched and decked with the climbing rose! The door is opened by Mrs* McPhaiL That is not her name, of course* I am not going to out- rage the shy modesty of that little woman by putting her name in bold print for all the world to see. A dear little woman she is, bowed somewhat with the bur- den of her life, but though her sweet face is worn and thin, it is very bright, and now it is aglow with welcome to her friend the missionary. She wel- comes me, too, but with a gentle reserve. She is ready enough to give of her heart's wealth, but only to those she has learned to trust. And my friend has gained i8 V! I, i iii- a full reward for his six months' work in that he has won this woman's willing trust* When the flush called up by the greet- ing dies, I see how pale she is, and I wonder how the winds and fros^3 and fierce suns have left so little trace upon the face of a Manitoba farmer's wife. I understand this later, but not now* When she was a girl, her hair was thick and fair, but now it is white and thin, and is drawn smoothly back and fastened in a decent little knot behind* Her eyes, once bright and blue, are blue still, but faded, for tears, salt and hot, have washed out the color. She wears a flannel dress, simple and neat ; and the collar at the neck and the lac^* 19 edged kerchief at the breast and the tidy dantiness of all about her make her a picture of one who had been in her youth ^^a weel brocht-up lass/' Her house is her mirror. The newly plastered, log-built walls are snow-white, the pine floor snow-white, and when the cloth is spread for tea, it, too, is snow- white. Upon the wall hangs a row of graduated pewter platter covers. How pathetically incon- gruous are they on the walls of this Canadian log house 1 But they shine. The table and the chairs shine. The spoons and knives and glasses and dishes shine, glitter. The whole kitchen is spotless, from the white win- dow blinds to the white floor, and there is a glitter on every TO side, from the pathetic pewter covers on the wall to the old sil- ver teaspoons upon the table. Mr, McPhail comes in, a small man with a quiet, husky voice and a self-respecting man- ner. His eye is clear and dark blue, and has a look of intellect in it. When he speaks he has a way of looking straight into you with a steady, thoughtful gaze. A man would find it equally dif- ficult to doubt or to deceive him. The pioneer lif^ has bowed his body and subdued his spirit, but the whole mass of his trials and the full weight of his burdens have not broken his hearths cour- age, nor soured its sweetness, nor dimmed his hope in God. We are invited to tea with an 21 air of apologetic cordiality. The food is fit for princes — home- made bread white and flaky, but- ter yellow and sweet, eg^just from the nest, and cream. There is cream enough for your tea, for fruit, and to drink! Cake there is, too, and other dainties; but not for me. No cake nor dainty can tempt me from this bread and butter. Queen Victoria has not better this night. I much doubt if she has as good I God bless her! At the head and foot of the table sit the father and mother, and Alexander, Jean, and Don- ald, with the missionary and myself, make up the company. The children take their tea in silence but for a whispered re- quest now and then, or a reply to 22 some low-toned direction from the mother. They listen interested in their elders' talk, 2nd hugely amused at the jokes. There is no pert interjection of smart say- ings, so awful in ill-trained chil- dren of ill-bred parents. They have learned that ancient and almost forgotten doctrine that children should be seen. I tell my best stories and make my pet Jokes just to see them laugh. They laugh, as they do every- thing else, with a gentle re- serve; and occasionally Jean, a girl of fifteen, shy like the rest, pulls herself up with a blush lest she has been unduly moved to laughter. The mother presides over all with a quiet efficiency, taking keen, intelligent interest in the conversation, now and then putting, a revealing ques- 23 tion, all the while keeping a watchful eye upon the visitors' plates lest they should come near being empty. The talk goes back to the old times. But these people talk with difficulty when their theme is themselves. But my interest and questions draw their story from them. Fifteen years ago the father and mother left the cozy Glas- gow home and the busy life of that busy city, and came over sea and land with their little girl and baby boy to Winnipeg. There they lived for two years, till with the land -yearning in their hearts they came out from the town to this far- back spot away beyond the Marshes. Here 34 they cut ottt of the forest their home, and here they have lived amid the quiet, cool woods ever since, remote from the bustle and heat of the great worlds *^ Why to th/J— " Its treatment of characters both of sacred and classical history, re- mind one of "QuoVadis," but the horrible and bestial scenes so for- cibly depicted therein are left out of this tale, which seeks to portray the contrast between light and darkness, or the struggle of a soul after free- ^dom."— ZiOf Ang«U$ Eeraid, ONESIMUS <^i I ^0 By AMY LE FEUVRE J^UNNY'S FRIENDS i2mo, decorated boards, 30c. " Bunny is a little girl, and her friends are a rabbit, a pony aid a lark. Each one narrates his experiences to the child as she is alone with him in the open room. Children will listen eagerly to the reading of these little tales, and will doubtless be pronted by them."— AT. K Observer. " 'Bunny' herself was not a rabbit, as one might suspect. She was a little lonely girl, and her name was Dora. She had a little, dark, silky head, and big, blue eyes, which were always staring out at the world with big thoughts behind them, and she was still only when some one told her a story." — Western Christian Advocate, J^RICS GOOD NEWS Illustrated, i2mo, decorated boards, 30c. " Eric Wallace is an invalid lad, delicate, sweet and winsome, who by precept and example leads errinpr and scoffing men to faith in Christ. The good work is done in a natural and perfectly childish way, without any painful exhibitions of precocity or §;oodishne3S. The story is simply a glimpse here and there into the life of a pure hearted, sweet natured. happy soul who leads others into the light because he is in the light himself. It is a tender and beautiful story of Christian influence, conduct and example." — Christian Work, \yHAT THE WIND DID i2mo, decorated boards, 30c. •* Miss Le Feuvre's stories about child life are chatmingly well written and suggestive." — Christian Advocate^ \ " Her stories are as bright and interesting and touching as if Juliana ""Swing or Laura Richards had written tliem." — Evangelist. "A clever tale, written with a high purpose. ... A suc- cessful endeavor of one whose pen has found its highest employ- ment in the realistic sketching of child life." — Christian Advot tie. jJULBS AND BLOSSOMS An Easter Booklet. With illustrations by Eveline Lance, i2mo, cloth, 50c. " Many sweet lessons of faith and love drop from the Up* of theie little ones, and how they brought forth fruit in the heart of one of the aunts is impressively brought out. The book is daintily bound, and pretty illustrations brighten it" — Louisville Observer, " An engaging Easter story in relation to two childrea who are sent from India to their a^nt in England to acquire stren|;th and y'lgOT from a cool climate and other benefits from associatiop ^th English csople."— CArif//a» Intelligencer » m AMY LE FEUVRE fWO TRAMPS Illustrated, zsmo, cloth, 75 cents, net A deUgatfnl ramble abont Rural England; a veritable Isaak Walton for boys with the fishing left out. Rollo is one of those boys of which our civilization produces too many, whose active brains are sapping the strength of heart, lung and limbs that are rightfully theirs. A sensible guardian seizes the opportunity to Bond the boy ofE on a tramp with his Uncle Lionel who is also in search of health. Rollo has promised not to read a book, even on rainy days, so he and Lionel talk to each other and everyone they meet. Rollo rides a donkey part of the time, and now and then they stop for a few days where the people seem hospitable. The man makes a splendid boy and the boy shows himself a little man. Altogether there is a sensible, rambling, healthy tone to the story of the experiences of the two tramps that makes it wholly charming. ••The anther plainly ilmstrates the possibility of magnifying Christian life ana character amid the whirl of gayety and pleasure in social life, and makes her characters real and possible."— (7Ari«<- ian Intelligencer. JILL'S RED BAG Illustrated, i2mo, cloth, 75 cents, fioL Jack and Jill and Bumps are a trio that lead themselves Into all manner of adventure. Impetuous, imaginative, with all the con- tradictory moods of childhood, from the impish mischief-making shading off into an unaffected, child's thoughts about God and relig- ion. Jill's Red Bag was a real red bag into which the cliildren put one-tenth of all the money that came to them. It started with them very much as a Bible game, just as Jack and Jill wanted Bumps to play Joseph and be thrown down the ash pit while tney dipped a striped sweater into red paint to show a supposed Jacob as the bloody coat of many colors; but tne red bag produced serious results among the "grown ups." It came to be a real thing to the trio, too. One cannot help woudering at Miss Le Feuvre's ability to make her books picture real children, with all the simplicity and beauty of childhood, without giving one a sense of unnaturalness. ♦•Amy Le Feuvre is very successful Jn interesting young people and children, and has gtmius in depicting anafioal as well as osoal •ceoea."— «AmmaJ andMmenger, Br AMY LE FEUVRE ON THE EDGE OF THE MOOR Illustrated. i2mo, cloth, $i.oo. •'A delightful story of a quiet country life, of one who WU eager to do good to her fellow-beings, and who improved every op- portunity to do so. Especially may those whose home is in the quiet country,and who think that there t's no opportunities for doing good to be found there, find hints of ways in which much good may be done. The lives into which the least sunshine comes — these are the ones which need our help the most," — Christian Htrald, " This is another of those charming and healthy stories for young people for ^ iiich this author has become distinguished. It is a good book for the home or the SuQday«scbool library,"— ^iV<»'« Htrald. PWELL DEEP Illustrated, i6mo, cloth, 75c. •* A story of a girl who, being left without a home, weot to Uvt with her guardian, who had a number of children. Hilda Thorn was trying to be a Christian, and her associates were very worldly, which made it hard for her. It is an interesting story, with the reality of experience." — The Religious Herald. "An intensely interesting story. The author plainly illustrates the possibility of magnifying Christian life and character amid the Iwhirl of gayety and pleasure in social life. Character speaks with effectiveness, and the world bows in ackno^-'ledgment to practical Christianity in a positive religious character. The author evidently has succeeded in making her characters seem to be real aod poi> sible. "— CArw/ia« Intelligencer. \ HIS BIG OPPORTUNITY Illustrated. i2mo, cloth, 75c. "Aside frpin its lively interest, this story will be good for bO90 to read. It does not preach, but its influence is strong for the tight, and it leaves a smack of hearty encouragement in the youtho IIU mind.' — The Independent. •' Here is a capital little story for boys, for girls, or for grown people. Of course, it is a story with a moral, and the moral is al« ways obvious ; but it does not interrupt the story, which is good.* 'Church Standard. > The story is a very pretty one, and nice to give little childrsQ ,