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32X

THE

flfilracle at (iDarkbam

Ibow twelve Cburcbes
Became ©ne.

BY CHARLES M. SHELDON,

AUTHOR OF

"IN HIS5 STEPS," "MAI.COM KIRK,"

AND O-'HER STORIES

TORONTO :

WILLIAM BRIGGS.
1899.

K 2.^6 0<i

Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, lu
the year one thousand eight hundred and nmetynine, oy
WiLiiiiiM Brigos, at the Department of Agriculture.

, iu
by

THIS FIRST EniTION OP

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

IS DEDICATKD BY THK AUTHOR,
WITH MUCH AFFKCTroN,
TO

RUSSELL H. CONWELL.

INTRODUCTION.

■yS^J^^^HE MIRACLE AT MAUKUAM

Wr^^JT/3'/ \va^ writt'en during the suinnier of
,^8ii*r|VVW 18W, and read tlm following fall and
il]^ winter by the author to his iSunday
) evening congregaticm in the Central
■' Church, Topeka, Kansas. Ttwa.sthen
' published as a serial in The Ram's Horn, Chicago.
The facts as to church crowding, at least in small
towns in the middle west of this country, are ten*
evident to require any argument. The need of some
kind of union in order to aave the waste of effort in
church work is also plain to all thoughtful church
members.

What shall this union be? This story em pha-
si^tes only one jxjint, and that is the practical
(KMsibility of a church union, not on lines of doc-
trine, custom or creed, but on lines of connnon effort
for the uplift of humanity. Where churches of
different denominations and methods of outward
worship are not ready nor willing to unite on a
basis of creed, they are ready and willing to unite
on a basis of Christian service.

This is all that the story attempts to teach. Any
town like !Markham (and it is only a type of hun-
dreds) can do what Markham did. And if the
denominations once begin to unite on this basis of
common effort for a common humanity, sectarianism
in its most unchristian and offensive exhibition '>f
narrow and selfish church life will be a thing of the
past, and the Kingdom of God will beg^n to come itk
great power on the earth. To this end this story in
sent out. May its message bless the Church of
.Tesus, and hasten the answer to His longing prayer
that Uis discipU« might be one.

CHARLES M. SHELDON.
TopEKA, Kansas,

Central Church, 1899.

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

The Rev.

CHAPTER I.

A LETTER WHICH BROKE TWO HEARTS.

ELL, John," said the minis-
ter's wife, coming" suddenly
into the study a few min-
utes after the postman had
left the parsonage, "what
does William write? I saw
his letter. Please read it to
me."
John Procter, pastor of the
Congregrational Church in Markham, hes-
itated as he turned towards his wife with a
letter in his hand. The hand trembled a
little, a very unusual thing with John
Procter. His wife notice<l it.

"Whait is the m,atter?" she asked, her
voice betraying" some anxiety. "Is he —
is anything wrong?"

"It's a serious matter, Kate," said John
Procter, gravel}'. "Don't be alarmed," he
continued, as his wife made a gesture of
fear. "Personally, William is not in any
danger. Buit you must be prepared foi*
unexpected news."

"I am ready to hear it," said the minis-
ter's wife, but her voice trembled, and she
looked at her husband anxiously.

THK MIRACl,K AT MAKKUAM

".' I

M i.

The llev. John l*roctc,r opened out ^he
letter, but he hesitateil again before read-
ing it. There was a curious mingling of
sa/dness and anger in his voice and manner
when fiD<ally he read the letter aloud.

Andover, Mass., Sept. 10, 1897.
Dear Father and Mother— I am about to
write you a letter that will cause you pain. I
am well aware of that fact, and yet I have
thought the entire matter out prayerfully, and
I cannot avoid the result, much as I know it
will cause you very great sorrow. To tell you
at once what my news is, I will say I have
definitely declaed to leave the seminary and
give up my preparations for the ministry.

Mrs. Procter gave an exclamation of
surprise, und the minister paused a mo-
ment and looked at her. The faces of both
of them were pale and agitated.

"Go on, John," aaid Mrs. Procter, finally.
Butt she sat during the rest of the reading
with her head bowed. Once, a tear rolled
over her oheek.

Of course, you will expect me to give my
reasons for this great change in my plans.
You know that during the summer I have
been supplying the pulpit h ' Granby. I have
written you something of my experience
there, but I have not told you anything of my
real experience. Granby Is a town of three
thousand people and eight churches, not
counting the Catholic. The Congregational
Church, which I supplied for three months and
a half, had seventy-two members, nominally.
They have had six pastors in twelve years.
At present, they are being served by supplies.
They pay twelve hundred dollars and parson-

THK MIRACI.1; AT MaUKHAM

■'ll'

age. 1 learned after 1 liad been there two
months, thai the cliurcli committee receives
twenty-live oi* thirty upplicationH a month
from ministers who wouhl hke to candidate for
the place.

It would be impossible for me to tell you in
H letter all my experience while in Granby,
which has IfMi up to my present resolve to
leave the ministry forever. From the day 1
entered the seminary, up to the present time,
when I begin the Senior year, I have felt an
incrstasing conviction that the ministry 'con-
tained less and less that appealed to me eveu jn
the side of service. As much as 1 reverence
your life, dear father, I have come to feel that
as the churches now are, separated a; ' weuK-
ened by their foolish denominational priile,
ther," is almost nothing in the ministry to at-
tract a man who really wants to serve the
world.

In Granby, as I have said, there are eighi
churches to three thousand people. The Con-
gregational, Baptist, Presbyterian, Episcopal,
Free-will Baptist, I^utheran, Christian and
Methodist.

These all have separate church buildlng.s
and ministers. Besides these, the Christian
Science people have meetings In a hall, and the
T'nited Brethren hold services every other
week in the district school house near the rail-
road shops. AH of these churches are In debt,
and all but two are behind with salaries.

The impression which grew with every min-
ute of my summer's work In Granby, was one
that made me feel that I could not honestly go
on with my studies for the ministry. In fact,
dear father and mother, t have lost my re-
spect for the ministry as a profesFion. and for
the churches as organizations for doing Chris-
tian work. You do not know what it coats mo
to write this. I know something, if not all, of

THB MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

! 1:

■ I

) i

i '(

the pain It gives you. You have always
thought of me as a minister. It is not the
leiast painful thought to me that out of
father's hard-earnerl savings 1 havp. for the
last eight years, been sent to academy, college
and seminary, to be educated for a profession I
now am obliged to confess I cannot enter be-
cause I have grown to despise it. Dear father,
believe me, nothing but a feeling of profound
conviction could make such a confession pos-
sible. But you have brought me up to tell
the truth and be true to convictions, no mat-
ter what the cost. And I am compelled to con-
fess that the condition of the churches, the
fickleness and mstablllty of the minister's po-
sition, the unchristian division and sectarian-
ism of the denominations have produced In me
such a distaste and unfitness for the ministry,
that I must leave the seminary, and give up the
life that you and mother have so fondly
planned for me these many years.

I do not know, yet, what I shall do. I am
not fitted to teach, and all my school life has
not taught me anything that I can turn to ac-
count In tne struggle for a living. I have often
wished, this year, that I had learned a trade
before coming away from home to school. I
am perfectly well, physically, and, if necessary,
I can go out to work as a day laborer. In any
case, father, I do not wish you to send me any
more money. If you do, I shall return It. I
can take care of myself, somehow. You know
that with all I have said, I have not lost my
Christian faith. My experience has not shaken
that. The only thing is, I must, hereafter, ex-
ercise It somewhere else besides In the minis-
try. Give much love to Jane, and believe me,
always, your loving son, William.

Andover Theological Seminary.

There was a long* silence in the little

I! lii

THE MIRACI,E AT MARKHAM

■V;

study. The Rev. Joihn Procter could not
conceal from his wife the dee«p diaappoint-
n>ent caused by his son's confession. In
memory, he rapidly traced the hopes and
ambitions he had felt for this son's career.
It had been the amticipation of his own
ministry to 8«<e his son in a pulpit, and
hear him preach an eloquent sermon some
day in his father's own church. It eeemed
to him like treason, like filial disobedience,
now, that this son had turned his fact*
aguinst the ministry and the church.

There were many thing-s in the letter
that wounded him deeply. The loss of the
money saved by x>adnfu] economy, to pay
William's school bills, was the least part
of his disappointment. It was the thought
of his desertion from the profession, that
pained, and even ang-ered, the Rev. John
Procter for a niomenit.

Mrs. Procter finally spoke. "What do
you think, John? Has he gw>d reasons
for such a step?" She asked the question,
not knowing what to say first. There wa,s
no feeling of anger with her. The upper-
most feeling* was one of grief. She had
never thought of her son as being" any-
thing" but a minister.

John Procteir was silent a moment. The
question his wife had asked him was one
he could not honestly answer at the mo-
ment. The asking of it angere<l him.
After all. at hest. ministers are men of

THE MIRACI.E AT MARKHAM

like passions with their parishioners.

"He i« not old enough to decide such
great questions so hastily," said John
Procter, sharply.

Mrs. Procter was sdlemt for a moment.

"At least we must respect William's hon-
est convictions," she said softly and with
some pride. "He must be true to them."

"Even if he is false to us!" said the
minister, bitterly.

"You did not mean that, did you John?"
asked his wife laying her hand on his arm.

"I said i't, if I did not naean it," he
replied; "Willitam has deceived us. He
sikould not have gone on all these years
pretending-" —

"John, you cannot believe that!" cried
his wife rising and coming up close t^
him.

"At leasit, his decision is — "

"John, anything but loss of love and re-
Bpect for our boy. It is a deep disap-
pointment to us, but let us give him the
benefit of his convictions."

John Procter suddenly looked up fair-
ly into his wife's face. His look changed.

"I spoke hastily," he said with a sad
smile. "Let us take time to think it over.
Only," he ladded with emphasis, "I wish
this news had come later in the week. I
am not in a very good frame of mind to
write mj' sermons after this!"

"Molt her, mother!" cried a voice fw)m

THK MIRACI.E AT MARKHAM

'■'.'Af 1 . . t _ ill

Hill

V*''',-ii '

All

"finally he read the letter aloud."

liljiil

THiC MIRACI,1C AT MARKHAM

the kitehien, "please help ine with this
recipe, vvooi't you?"

"Ye«, Jane," said Mi-s. Procter, "I'll be
there in a moment."

The minister's wife looked up at hiui.
The t«ars w«re in her eyes. He stooped
and kissed her, and neither said a word.
EacJi knew that for them both a rare
disappointment had come into their lives,
a disappointment that could not be talked
about, but must always be a pai't of mem-
ory.

When his wife had gone out of his study,
John Procter turned about to his writing
desk and picked up his pen. He 6ia»t with
i1 in his hand for a minute, but he could
not think of anything- to write.

Suddenly, he threw his pen down and
rose and walked over to his window.
From ^vhe^e he stood, he could see the
main street of Markham, and count five
church steeples.

He stood by the window for several
minutes, and somothiag" almost like a
sneer grew on his face. The sneer passed
away, but another look toiok its place, a
look of scorn and of .sad disgust.

"Is William right about it, after all?" he
asked the question aloud, and walking
away from the window, he paced his study,
talkinig- to himself.

"Here, in Markham, we have twelve
churches to twenty-eight hundred people.

1 1

:l ,, , 1
li il" I

THE MIRACI<E AT MARKHAM

We heart. Granby by four churches, lu
the langanag-e of the real estate ag-ents' cir-
culatr which booms his vvesteiiD! town,
'every deiiiomination is represented, so
that everybody's relig-ious preferences
niiay be gratified.' Let me see. This is
the religious census of Markham."

John Procter walked over to his desk
and sat down. He drew a large sheet of
paper towards him and put down the fol-
lowing:

"The Church of Christ as at Present Organized
iu the Town of Marlthaui."

Congiegational Christian

Baptist Episcopal

Methodist Free-Will Baptist

Presbyterian United Presbyterian

Lutheran Cumberland Presbyterian

Adventist Reformed Presbyterian

"Add ito these, Christian Science, Church
of God, Free Methodist, United Brethren,
Salvation Army, American Volunteers and
Koman Catholic.

"Seven of these denominations have
their buildings on the same street within
a few blocks of one another. This street
is the best street in town. There is
only one church building im the factory
district. Nine of these twelve churches
are, to my positive knowledge, in debt,
six of them with mortgages on their
property. The average salary paid the
minlislters is less than one thousand dol-
lars. With all these churches, we have a

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

I ,;;

pi'

town with fifteen saloons, a notoriously-
corrupt town council, the mayor of which
is the largest property owner in the sa-
loons, and an increasing population of
factory workers whose chiltlren run the
streets and recruit the criminal classes.
Our Sunday laws in Mark ham are con-
temptuously disregarded, baseball and
athletic sports make the Lord's day a
mockery, and drunkenness and vice are
commion."

The liev. John Procter lifted his pen
from the paper whei'-e he had written, and
I)aused a moment. Then he added:

"Markham is well churched;

"But where is Christ?"

ITfe threw /his pen down and rose and
walked over to the window again, leaving
the sheet of paper over the leaves of his
partly-written sermon.

"Williaia is right about it, after all," he
said, at last. "How much is there in the
ministry, to attract a young man with
Christian ambitions, who really is eager to
serve his fellow-man? How much influ-
ence do these twelve churches have in
Markham? How much attention do the
politicians pay to any church, for example,
when it comes to a town, coun(t3% or sta.te
election? We are struggling ais a denom-
inatioTi 'to hold our own .again»t the other
sects. What strength have we left to do
the Lord's reial work 'that cries aloud to be

'Si

! ^1

tHK MIRACI.E; AT MARKUAM

done? 1 don't blame you, William, I — '*

Kev. John I'rooter walked away from
the window again, and sat down at his
desk. The look on his face had changed
arain. Since his son's letter and the feel-
ing provoked by it, he had grown visibly
older. The lines In his really strong face
had deepened, the care in his eyes had
grown more defined. After all these years,
how had Christ's prayer been answered?
Were His disciples one? Could they ever
be made one? His thought finally nar-
rowed to Markbam. Was it possible for
them to be made one? Could Chrisit ever
be made the real Master of these divided
bodies?

The Rev. John Procter drew another
sheet of paper towards him, and after a
little hesitation he wrote the following:

''Possibilities of uniting: the twelve different
denominationH in Markham.

THE MINISTERS.

1. Baptisit — Rev. Charles Harris, pastor.
A man without a college or seminary
training, who always lays great sitress on
baptism by immersion, and frequently
preaches from the topic, 'Why am I a
Baptist?' A good man, but very narro^v.
Has drawn away his young people from
the Christian EndeaA-^or Society, and
formed a separate Baptist Union which
refuses to take part in Christian work

THB MIRACI.B AT MARKHAM

with other young people's societies.
iStrictly close oommunion.

2. Methodist — lie v. Lawrence Brown,
pastor. A couscienitiouis, hard-working
man with a large family. Has protracted
meetings every winter, and without
meaning to be discourteous has begun
meetings in a private house near a dis-
trict where the Presbyterians already
had established a mission Sunday School.
The neighborhood is divided, and already
a quarrel has arisen as to the use of the
school house for religious services. Has
an Epworth League which does not work
>vith the Endeavor Societies.

3. Presbj'terian^ — Rev. Hugh Cameron,
D. D., pastor. A scholarly, refined man,
who preaches from manuscript. Has best
library in Markham. Has refused to
speak to the factory people in an out-door
Sunday evening service, because he can-
not speak extemporaneously. A small
membership.

4. Lutheran — Rev. James Wakefield,
pastor. An average minister with no par-
ticular habits to distinguish him. Com-
plaints frequent in his church that his
sermons are dull and his prayers long.

5. Christian — Rev. Frank Russell, pas-
tor. Very sensaitional. Has lantern ser-
^^ces, Sunday evening religious concerts,
and other attractions to secure a crowd.
Has been repeatedly charged with being a

THE MIRACI,Ii AT MARKHAM

proselyte, drawing ithe congregations
from otlier churches to hiis Sunday even-
ing" services.

6. Episcopal — the Very Rev, Dean Ran-
dall. A man, in his private life, of great
social aittraotionis. Well read, and friendly
in his relations to the other ministers.
Never was known to take any public part
in temperance meetings or any public ef-
fort for the good of the town. A very
firm believer in the Apostolic Succession.
Would possibly preach in a Congregational
or Presbyterian pulpit, but would never
innte a minister of either of those denom-
inations into his pulpit.

7. Free-Will Baptist — Rev. Alfred
Towne, pastor. An old man with very
detennined views on doctrinal questions.
Has a very small congreg»aition, is poor, and
not able to preach continuously, owing to
ill health.

8. United Presbyterian — Rev. Edward
Lathrop, pastor. A young man. Very
conceited and fond of controversy. Has
been charged with heresy. Preaches doc-
trinal sermons against imaginary oppom-
ents. Has a good voice and is unusually
good looking.

9. Curo'berland Presbyterian — Rev.
Paul Ford, pa.sitor. Has built up a small
eongregation from a few church members
who drew off from a large body in a neigh-
boring town in a quarrel. A man of quick

THli MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

tomppT, jealous, but willing- to work
anmiig the poor and sinful. A m'an of
naiturally brillianit abilities.

10. Beformed Presbyterian^ — Rev. Wal-
ter Carter, pa«tor. Middle-a^ed man, who
is fearless in his denunciations of the sa-
loon and other evils. !Never votes, and
takes no part in political movements.
Very pleasant man in private life. A
good talker.

11. Adventist — Rev. William Powers,
Pastor. Uneducated; poorly equipped for
the ministry. Always preaching his church
doctrines.

12. Congregational — Rev. John Procter,
pastor. Ciraduate of academy, college and
seminary. Unduly proud of that fact. A
man of strong passions, who thinks all the
other churches ought to be Congregational
in order to be truly united. Fonder of
reading, than of making parish calls.
Preaches generally from manuscript, and
does not feel at his ease before a crowd of
working people, though he is willing to
face them and do the best he can. Is at
present the oldest resident pastor in
Markham, having lived there fifteen
years."

John Procter s-miled a little grimly
while writing his own biography. Then
he read what he had written about the
other ministers, and after finishing, he
slowly but cairefully tore the sheets of

THE MlRACr.K AT MARKHAM

paper in pieces a.nd threw them into the
wa«te paper basic et.

"I have no rij^liit to jikIi'tc them," he
said aloud. "1 havo no doubt they are all

J better, more Christian men than I am.

* A"^^ yet 1 believe I have fairly g-iven their
principal charaeteristios as ministers.
Is there any power on earth that can
unite such a body of men? What can ever
brimg" tog'etber two such churches as the
Itaptist and Episcopal? Dean Randall and
Harris are as opjwsite as any two men 1
ever saw. They are as likely to mix as oil
and water. When T think of church union,
the real kind, in Markham, I am oblifred to
think of a miracle. Would even a miracle
unite such men and such churches? And
yet we all claim to be alike, Christian.
^^^^y are we not all doing- Christian work
togeither us He prayed we mig-ht?"

He picked up his pen a^ain and dipped
it in the ink and held it in his hand until
the ink had dried. He rose and walked up

-and down, restless and unable to throw
off t'he questions he had asked. He re-
read his son's letter, and the anger he had
felt at his first reading, was now largely
g"one. S^adness, a deep sadness, born of
the morning's experienees, filled his heart.
"Tf the churches ever really unite, it will
be by a mina.cle," he said repeatedly.
When Mrs. Procter gently knocked on his
study door to announce dinner, John

THE MIRACT.R AT MARKHAM

I'rocter wa« stiTl sittingr at his de«k, but
liis head was bowed over the leaves of his
iinfiniehed sermon, end his spirit was
fainit within him ns he thought of his son
and of the church of Christ in Markham.

CHAPTER II.

A CONVBKSATION IN THE KITCHSN.

t)^ HILE the Rev. John

Prooter thiat raorn-

vriii,-iuMt sil ^jj^ ^^ having

this experience in
bis study, his wife and daughter were hav-
ing ari initereating conversation in the
kitchen,

Jane Procter was a graduate of the
Rtiate normal school, and one of the teach-
ers in the public schools of Markham. It
was th© last week of vacaition, and she
was spending the time at home, helping
her mother with housework.

When her mother came into the kitchen,
in answer to her call for help in tihe mak-
ing a new dish for dinner, Jane Procter
B&w at once that something unitsnal had
happened. She was as curious as most
girls, but she did not -ask any questions at
first. After the rlish was set in tihe oven,
she Raid*:

"Wh«\t is the matter, mother?"

Mrs. Procter told her 'the contents of
Willia.m's letter, adding, "Of course, your
faitther and I cannot help feeling very much
grieved by it. We have never thought of

THE MIRACUC AT RIARKHAM

Will as anything- else. Your father will
take it harder than any one."

"MotQier," said Jane afiter a moment of
silence, "1 doin't blame Will any. Isn't
what he says, about the churches in
(Iranby, true of thousands of towns and
i'lties all over the countrj'? Why should
Will be one more man to & - nggle after a
little church and then .srtTug-gle with it?"

"It is what his father and his before him
liave done," siphed Mrs. Procter. "It ia
the noblesit profession there is."

"Except teaching-, miother. The aver-
age church touches children once a week,
but the sohool touches 'them five daj's a
week."

Mts. Procter did not reply.

"Don't you think, mother, that the min-
istry offers very little now-a-days to a
young- raan of any strong- ambitions?"

"It is a life full of service," replied Mrs.
Pi-tocter, proudly.

"Yets, molt heir, but it is so full of wasted
streng^th."

"I don't know ahouit that. There is a
g'ooil de«l of wasted stieng^th everywhere.
But surely, Jane, you can't help feeling"
some sorrow at William's decision."

"Frankly, mother, I don't feel a bit. I
honor farther and his work, of course, but
it seems to me the life of a minister is not
very desirable. Just look at the minis-
ters in Markhwim. Thev — "

Thk miraci.u at maukham

I SHALL nkvi:k marky a mimstkk."

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

"Jane," said her mother, with a little
of John Procter's decided tone, "you
must noit judge."

"I am not judging-," said Jane calmly,
picking up the i-olling-pln and using it un-
consciously to gesture wi'th. "I was sim-
ply going to compare. But I won't even do
that. I know this ver^- well, miot'her. I
.shall never marry a minister."

"Has any one of them ever asked you
to?" Mre. Procter questioned.

Jane blushed, and some flour on her
cheeks made her look very pretity as she
did so. She began, in some confusion, to
scrape the dough from the kneading
board, and did mot answer her mother.

"Forgive me, Jane," she said coming up
and putting an arm abovnt hea*. "Your
m^other is daily and hourly in need 'of the
grace of God. I asked tihe question the
first time, in the vi-rong way, but I ask it
again now as your loving mother."

Jane scraped away at the dough, until
she scraped down into th-e wood. Finally
she turned her head towards her mother
and said, slowly:

"You know that Francis Randall has
asked me twice?"

"No, you forget, Jane, 'that T have never
talked with you about this, before. I
might Tiavp suspeoted. But how was I to
know? Your father and T have always
believed in giving you all the freedom that

THE MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

■A

-'1

we think a Christian girl ought to have."

"I ought to have told you. Francis aisked
me last winiter. Just before going back
to his church, after Christmas,. I said no.
He wrote me last spring, again. 1 an-
swered him the same."

Jane's voice had grown steadier now, but
her face was still flushed, and eJie rose
and nervously began putting away the
l>aking things.

"Do 3'ou love him?" Mrs. Procter asked
the question simply, just as Jane was go-
ing into the pantry.

"I'm afraid I do," answered Jane, after
a pause, and her mother did not see the
te«ar that dropped into a. teacup before
Jane placed it on the shelf.

"Why are you afraid you do?" asked Mrs.
Pr'octer with a slight smile that quickly
changed to a serious look.

"Because, because — mother, I have made
up my mind never to marry a minister."

"But Dean Randall's son is a very fine
young man," said Mrs. Procter, cautiously.

"Yes, mother."

"He has a noble character?"

"Yes, mother, I know it."

'He is very handsome."

• Indeed, he is," murmured Ja.ne, bend-
ing her head lower.

"And you say you love him?" Mrs. Proc-
ter repeated it gravely.

*'J have never told him so," replied Jaine,

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKHAM

softly, "and 1 never sluall."

"Ja-ne," said her mother, after a pause,
during- which Jane made an unnecessary
claibter with some tin thing's, "if you do
not m.arry the man you love, wfhoni will
you marry?"

"I'm gfoing- 'to remain single," said Jane,
and her voice trembled a little as she said
it. "I'm going to be just a plodding,
paitienit school ma'am as long as 1 live."

"Ytou are twenty-three years old, and
you m.uist decide this great question, vay
dear, for yourself. Buit you have been
taught not to despise the love of a g"Ood
man, Jane. You would not respect Fran-
cis Itandall if he were to give up his pro-
fession of the ministry to please you?"

"I would despise him," said Jane
promptly.

"And yet you say you love him, and noth-
ing but the fact that he is a minister keeps
you from marrying him?"

"I don't know that 1 love so very much
after all," said Jane, a little stubbornly.
But her look contradicted her voice.

Mrs. Procter opened her lips to say
eometthing, but at that moment the bell
rang, and she went to the front door.
When she came back, Jane had gone up
stairs and the conversation was not re-
newed.

At dinner that day all three were ab-
sorbed in the events of the morning, but

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKHAM

iiot much Avas said. When the meal was
over, John Procter went out to do some
parish work, and Jane, after hel^Mug in
the work of the kitchen, went to her room
again.

iifhe sait down by a Kuiall table, and after
a moment of hesitatioii she opened a
drawer and took out of it a letter and a
photograph. She set the photograph up
against a pile of books on the table, and
then opened the letter, saying as she did
so, "Xow, Francis Randall, say wthat you
have to say again."

Pyramid, Col., May 12, 1897.
Miss Jane Procter, Markham, O. :

Dear Jane— It is almost six months since I
asked you to share your lifa .vith mine, and
this letter is simply to tell you that I have not
been able to accept your answer as final. You
know, well enough, that I love you wholly, as
a man snould who asks a woman to be his
wife. I am in doubt as to your real feeling to-
wards me, Jane, but if you do love me, nothing
ought to keep your life from mine. You said
you would never marry a minister. 1 am sure
you would never become my wife if I left the
ministry, and you know me at least well
enough to know that I can never abandon the
choice of my life work.

But I need you. That sounds selfish. If you
love me at all, you will understand how far
from selfish is my need. Won't you, can't you,
marry me, Jane? My little church here is in
the midst of a rough mining camp, and my
salary is small. But I have a growing income
from my little stories. I can make two people
very comfortable, Jane, even out here. There

THE MIRACI^fi AT MARKHAM

was something In the way j'ou said "No,"
last Christmas, Jane, that made me feel I
might some time hear you you say "Yes."
That is my only excuse for writing to you. If
you will let me come to you, no man will be
happier or prouder, or more thankful to the
good God, than your lover,

Francis Randall.

" 'Than your lover, Francis Kandall,' "
repeated Jane, sioftly. "As if 1 had only
one, and he itbait one," she added, with a
small frown, and then looking- directly at
the jihotograph she «ald aloud: "Xo, I
will never marry you, sir, J am not fitted
to be a minisster's wife. A little Episcopal
church in a new ntiining camp out West!
Jane Procter, it Would be foolishness.
You a'lways said you would not marry a
minister. If he was only Congregiaitioiial,
or something nearer my own churdh! But
it's the ministry itself. I can't! 1 oan'>t!
But I do love him! — I said 1 would never
tell him so!"

She suddenly tsmatched the phoitograph
f t'om its prominent place on the table, and
thrus^t it into the drawer and shut it.
Awd then she spread the letter out on the
table and laid her cheek upon it and cried
sofitl3\

In the Rev. John Procter's study on the
evening of thait eventful day in the par-
sonage, there wias a real sitruggle going on
in the heart of the minister. The letter
from bis son had stirred emotions that

THE MIRACI«£; AT MARKHAM

lay deep and strong in the old^r man.
The problem of the town which he had
grown to love through his long residence
in it, had never before stood out so sharp-
ly as today.

He had given up the text and subject of
his sermon, and was planning something
entirely different for the coming Lord's
Day.

He stood by the window and watched the
harvest moon rise. It came up so as to
make sharp and distinct against its yel-
low disk a c'hurch steeple. It was the
steeple of his own church. When it passed
out of sight, Rev. John Procter turned
away and thoughtfully walked up and
down a long time. A strong and growing
conviction had emtered his life. From
thait day he would never be able to say
that a more domimant passion, ruled his
ministry than fhe passion for a united
churdh in Markham and the world. Still,
as he wa-lked, and his soul burned within
him, came the old questions raised by his
religious census of the place, and his own
doubts.

"Oan these ministers and churches be
brought tiogeither? Can it be done with-
out a real miracle? How shall it ever be
brought aibout? Can Christ's prayer be
answered (here in this place, and His ser-
vants. His disciples, be one, even as He
was with the Father?"

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

And he was still asking- these solemn
questions when the clock in his own
church steeple sounded the hour of twelve,
and another of God's great days of life
had beg'un for a world of priceless and
immortal, but unredeemed, humanity.

"i !■

CHAPTKR III.

DEAN RANDALL RECEIVES A LETTER.

r was the mo miner
after John Procter
liad reoe.ive<l lii«
disquietinpf letter
from his soni, that
Dean Ilandall was
readiinig' in his
study in the Manse
which was bnilt
close by the cathe-
dral.

Detail Kandall was a man between forty-
five and fifty, well built, with a church-
man's face and dres;s. IVo one would ever
niisitake ham for any other than a clerg-y-
man. There was, however, no'tihimi''
prie«tly, in the narrow or offensive sense,
in his appearance. It ^vas said in Mark-
ham thait he stood a good chance sometime
of beingf made a bishoj).

He had been readiuig" for an hour and had
laiid the book down to do some wrLtlni,'-,
when a servamt broug-ht him a letter.

It was said lonpf afterwards that amonpr
the nrainy aistonishinq* tlhinpfs that occurred
in Markhaim that winter it was n lilt tie re-
markable as a coincidence that two Kliort
leitters written by two yonnijr men, each to
his father, a miinister, had much to do with

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

the result of verj- impoiHant events.

The Deam opened the letter quietly, but
he had not read far, when his face Showed
Higfnis of some deep feeling. What cau'sed
that feelinig", can be shown by knowing" the
eomtents of Ihe entire letter.

The letiter was dated at "Pyramid, Col.,"
and was from the Dean's .son, Francis:

Dear Father — I have already written you
fjulte a complete account of this mining camp
and something of my church work and of the
people who make up my parish; but I have not
told you much about my relations to the other
churches here.

There are, perhaps, twelv? hundred people In
Pyramid at present, and the place Is rapidly
tilling up. There are six church organizations;
Congregational, Presbyterian. Baptist, Metho-
dist, Catholic and my own. The Baptist and
Methodist people have no church buildings, but
meet every Sunday In a store room, one de-
nomination In the morning, the other In the
afternoon, in the same place.

But what I write this particular letter for is
to tell you a little of my experience with one
of the other clergymen. I met with an acci-
dent a month ago. I wrote you nothing of it
because I did not wish to alarm mother.

The mountains all about here are full of
prospecting shafts. In crossing over the range
one night to see a sick miner. I fell into one of
these shafts. Fortunatply it was not deep, but
I sprained my ankle and was severely bruised.
I might have lain there uncomfortably all
night, if I had not been found by the Congrega-
tional minister who had been out on a sim-
ilar errand with mine. To make a long story
short, he succeeded in getting me into his own
house, where I am now staying.

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

It te Impossible fcr me to tell you, father,
all that has led up to my present convictions
relating to church matters.

This little accident is but an incident in the
whole course of events, I am sure, and yet it
has had something to do wth my changed
views. You know I never felt the importance
that so many of our clergymen have felt, of
emphasizing the ritualistic part of our church
life. Since havmg a church of my own In tMs
wild mining camp, with a parish that calls for
a very plain human service, coming down
close to the coarse, common, necessary things
of daily life, 1 have come to regard le«s and
less the forms and ceremonies and traditions
of our church and to feel more and more the
longing to simply give this parish the thing
It most ought to have, and that is the gospel of
dfeily bread for dally needs.

You will be startled now. father, by what I
tell you. Last Sunday I Invited the Congrega-
tional minister to preach to my people In my
church. His building has been undergoing
some repairs, and could not be used. My lame
ankle, which has been very stubborn to heal,
made it Impossfble for me to leave my friend's
house, so that I could not be present at the
service. I have heard, however, that the peo-
ple enjoyed a good sermon. He read the
prayers, and the service was the same as us-
ual, except that he did not wear the gown In
the pulpit. He offered to do so. but as he la
a rather small man. and T am over six feet and
large in proi)ortion. and there is only one gown
In the church wardrobe. It seemed foolish to
insist on such an unimportant thing.

I understand there has been a little talk about
this. Some of my people think it was very Ir-
regular. They have only words of praise for
the sermon, however. It was practical, and
helped everybody.

run MIRACI.K AT MARKIIAM

I have been thinking, as I lay hero in this
little room, and growing: to like my friends,
the Congregational minister and his wife, more
and more, If there Is not some way in which
our two churches can unite more closely to do
the same work. Exchanging pulpits is a very
small matter. It might, or might not, mean
a real union of church life. I have talked It
over with Mr. Clark. He is ready to work with
us on any basis of service to the whole camp.
I am sure we can accomplish much more to-
gether than separately, and possibly prevail
on the other churches to enter upon the same
fellowship.

I do not know how much you can sympathize
with me, dear father, in this matter. I have
no doubt you are disturbed by a part of this
letter. If so, it is simply because I have
frankly told you my inmost thought. The
Episcopal Church means less to me every day
than the Christian work that the church ought
to do. I find in my correspondence with the
younger men In our denomination, that many
of them feel as I do. We are entering a new
period of church history, and I believe, father,
that the next twenty-five years will witness
great changes In the customs and traditions of
our own beloved church.

There is one other matter I have had in mind
to write you about for some time. Mother
knows, and perhaps she has told you. al-
though she said when T was home last Christ-
mas, that she hesitated lo speak to you about
it.

I love Jane Procter, the daughter of your
neighbor. John Procter, p.nd have asked her to
be my wife. She has refused to marry me
because T am a clergyman. Her refusal has not
changed. In any partlcuar, my feeling for her.
The time may come when she will share my life
with me. However that may be, father, I wish

•;!

THR MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

you to know how matters are. You urged me.
In your last letter, to have a home of my own
for the good of the parish and myself. Your
letter led mt; to believe that you knew nothing
of this part of my life. I shall never marry
any one but Jane Procter.

If I have hurt you in any way by anything
in this letter, It is more painful to me than to
you. A young man is apt to think that ho
knows more and better tnan his elders. But I
am positively sure that for myself the value
of much that our church has counted dear in
the past, is rapidly passing away. I see more
clearly every day fhe needs of the souls of men.
Regardless to a great extent of past forms and
customs, I am determined to go on in my min-
istry with the one fixeu purpose of building
up the kingdom of God, rather than the Epis-
copal Church. If thi" sliall mean a vital and
even organic union with all the other denomin-
ations, I shall welcome it as I would welcome a
personal visit from Jesus Christ.

Give much love to mother;

Your affectionate son, Francis.

De^an Randiall hekl his son's letter in his
hand for a long* time after he had finiished
reading it. There ^vas nothing" in the let-
ter similar -to that w^hich John Procter had
received fromhiis son, except the comrplette
frankness with which <the confession of the
young" men's relig-lous experiences was
made, anid at first Dean Randall was laf-
fecited very miiich as John Procter was.

He was disturbed, aind even angry.
Never once during- his own m.inis'try of
over thirty years, had he dreamed of invit-
ing into his pulpit a clcrgymian of another

THK MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

(le.iominaition. It seemied ito him like the
breaking up of tlie entire system of church
order to thiuik of such a, thing. He had
alvvaiys lived on pleasiinit terms with tlie
other ministers, bmt his relations to them
and their churches were for the mos?t part
purely social, never religious.

fl'hait confession of his son's, however,
did not affect him so disagreeably as the
general tone of the letter which looked
like the breaking up of all the traditional
accepted customs of the Kpiscopal Church.
Could he, Dean Randall, ever think of such
a thing a« uniting in any organic way with
any oither church in Markham?

The favorite picture in his study, was
Hoffman's "Christ h\ Gethsemane." It
hung just above his writing desk. An im-
pulse he could not explain, led the Dean to-
wards this picture, now.

Sometime near to thait moimenjt in
Christ's life He had prayed the great
prayer that His disciples might be one. The
Dean could not drive away the thought
that Jesiks was not thinking dunng that
supreme moment so much of the advance-
ment of any partictilar church as of the
Kiingdom of God on earth.

He looked away from the picture, and
his eyes rested on a bundle of letters in one
of the pigeon holes of h'is desk. Among
those letters was one from a very power-
ful and influential member of the order of

-I'

THE MIRACI<E AT MARKHAM

Bishops in his diocese, In which he gave
Dean Randall almosit a positive assurance
that he was the next man who would, in
all probability, be chosen as Bishop for a
near vacamcy.

Clergymen have their ambitions as well
as politicians or other men.

This was the ambition of Dean Eandairs
life; the Bishopric. His son's letter dis-
turbed this dream. II the Episcopal
Church and its traditians were ito become
secondary in Dean Kandall's parish, to
the building of God's kinp-dom by union
with other Christian bodies, whait would
become of that chance for the Bishop's
office? There was no hope of receiving
that honor unless he remained faithful to
the old established traditions of the Epls-
coj>al Church.

The Dean was no:t willing to face the
question in that ])al<l uncompromising
manner. He felt the need of putting off the
whole matter, and. rising, he opened his
study door and called for his wife.

She came in from the dining room, which
was adjoining. The Heau gave her ihe bet-
ter without a woi'd.

The study doi-^r wan ajar, and the servant
eit work in the dining room, heard Mrs.
Randall exclaim:

"What! The poor boy! Fell down one
of those horrible mining sh«afts! Oh, he
must be killed!"

THii MIRACI4i AT MAKKIIA&I

The servant listenicd carefully, but heard
only a low reply made by the Dean, which
she ooukl not make out. Then the study
door was shu't, and only the murmur of the
two voices from within, reached her ear.

She went out into the Ivitchen just as the
market nuan came into the back porch, and
while he was taking" some vegetables out
of his basket, she said:

"Have you heard the news? Mr. Fran-
cis fell down one of the mines out in Col-
orado, and was probably killed. I just
heard Mrs. Randall say so, in the study.
She's in there now, with the Dean. They
had a letiter from Pyramiid, 'this morninig"."

"You don't say," said the market man,
sympathetically.

"Well! That'll be a blow to them. Young
Mr. Ilandall %vaa a likedy young- mam.
There's no telling what risk's folks run in
those western mining* towns."

"That's ISO," said the servant as she
picked up the veg'etables and went into the
house.

The market man went his way with a bit
of imte res ting' news to retail along with his
fruit and veg'etables.

He stopped at Rev. John Procter's house
very soori, for the two ministers lived in
the sami block.

Mrs. Procter did not koe]) a servant, but
a woman was at the ]>arsonage that morn-
ing, washing.

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

"You don't say," she exclaimed, as she
straightened up from her tub and faced
the market man. "Poor fellow! Terribly
mangled, you say he Avas? I'm sorry for
his father and mother."

"WTiat'is that, Mrs. Brown?" asked Mrs.
Procter coming out into the shed. Jane
was just insidie the open kitchen door wip-
ing the breakfast dishes. They had
breakfast quite late at the parsonage some
mornings.

*'Why, mia'am," said Mrs. Brown, eagerly
finxious to get lahead of the market man,
"Mr, Francis Randall, the Beam's son, out
at Pyramid, Col., was killed by falling
down one of those mines out there.
Killed instantly. His folks got the news
thi— "

There was a sudden crash of broken
crockery as Jane let the dish she \vas wip-
ing, drop. The next minnte she was in the
shed, her white face trembling as she
Blazed Mrs. Bi .wn by the arm.

"WLo said so?" she asked in almosit a
tierce voice.

'* \«5k him," said Mrs. Browm pointing in
a 1 ri, orhtpned way to the market man who
was i (St going out of the yard.

Jane rushed out of the shed, and did not
heed her mother's cry, "Jane! Jane! Come
back. Perhaps it Is not true."

"Who told you?" she asked the .Tian ns
he pau'sed by his wngon in wonder at her

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

sudden appearance and strange manner.

"Told me what?"

"Who told yon that Francis Kamdall was
killed?"

"O! T heard it straig-ht from the girl at
the Manse. She heard Mrs. Kandall — "

But Jane was gone down the sidewalk,
running with gasps and r,obs towards the
Manse, crying as she ran. "Oh, it can't be
true! It van't be true!"

The De<j . ' Mrs. Randall were still in
the stmly ta ijr over their son's letter,
when they heard the front door bell ring
sharply. A moment after, voices sounded
in the hall and quickly came into the din-
ing room. Then there was a sudden
knock on the study door, and when the
Dean opened it. to his amazement Jane
Procter confronted him and his wife, cry-
ing out hysterically:

"He isn't dead, i.s he?"

"Who isn't dead?" asked the Deain stup-
idly, but Mrs. "Randall caught Jane's arm
and drew her to her.

"No, no, he isn't dead. Who said so?"

Jatue fell into her arms sobbing out
Romiethinig they could not understand.
The Dean picked up iiis glasses which had
fallen on the floor in the excitetment and
with a slight smile on his scholarly face
he patted Jane on the head.

Jane ceased to sob, but after a minute of
silence she Irtoked up and whispered to

(" I

•BHI? MIRACLE AT MARKHAM 41

#:„/.

THK MIRACI^E AT RiARKHAM

Mrs. Itandall. "You're sure he isn't fatally
hurt?"

"There's his letter." Mrs. Randall held
it out. "1 think his father and miother are
more diang-erously hurt than he is," slie
added with a side look at the Dean.

"Oh," said Jane looking up and glancing
at the Deain. He had turned around and
was pretending to be busy with somiethiiig
at his desk. Mrs. Handall, like the wise
woman she was, put an arm about Jane
and walked with her out of the study iato
the music re rum.

The t\vo women had a little talk to-
gether. It ^!L no+ quite clear wliether
Jane felt better or worse for the exhibi-
tion of her feeling. Mrs. Randall had tears
in her eyes when Jane linially went away.

As for Jaine, she, somewhat abashed,
walked slowly home. On the way she said
oiuce, "If he bad HAD been killed — but no
— I cannot, — I will not mtirry him even if
I do, — if I do think a good deal of him."

And so, when the school term opened the
next week, Jane went back to her old
work, her life work as she called it, but
the heart 'of every true healthy man or
woman is hungry for lore, and Jane, as
she listened to the droning of the chil-
dren's voices in the school room, often
had a vision of the pale face of a very tall
young man sitting with a bandaged foot
in a Oongregationail minister's house out

thp: miraclk at markham

in Colorado, and in her lieart she forg-ave
the servant, and the market man, und the
wash-woman for saying" that Francis Ran-
dall was dead, beeainse he was mot dead at
all, not even In her heart in spite of her
fstnbborn repetition of the words, "No, I
will n€ver marry a minister!"

,«.?

Il'l

III I

CHAPTER IV.

WItLIAM LEAVES ANDOVER.

BOUT a month after
that letter from Fran-
cis Randall had caused
such a disturbance in
the family circle of
two homes, the Rev.
John Proctor came in
late from parish calls
with another letter,

which he read aloud to his wife and Jane

at the supper table:

" Dear Father, Mother and Jane," the letter was
from William. " I have at last made up my mind to
leave Andover and try my fortune for a time at least,
in one of the minlnsr camps of Colorado. I have tried
a number of things here and do not make any of
them go. A son of one of the professors here is pari
owner of the ore reduction mills at Pyramid. He
wants a man who understands chemistry to act as
assistant superintendent in the mill. I am pretty
well up in chemistry as I made it a special study in
college. I have written asking for the position if is
still open, and if is I shall be on the way inside of a
■week.

*' Please don't feel that my life is a failure or any
thing of that sort. I am having a struggle at present
with my life long habits of church loyalty, and the
work I am going into now is totally different from
all you have dreamed of for me, but I believe it is all
I can do Just now. I would rather you would not say
any thing to Dean Randall's family about my going
to Pyramid. Of course I know their son is there. We
have been away so much to school and college that

ll I

m»

THE MIRACI«K AT MARKHAM

you know we have not been very well acquainted,
undtbewayl feel now, (tumbled up and down in
my mind,") as John Bunyan says, I would rather not
meet him. I should be sure to say something to hurt
his churchman's feelin^rs. Of course in that little
camp I may run across him soon anyway. If I do I
presume he would not care to renew our small ac>
quaintance.

"The hard physical work will, I hope, make a man
of me agrain. In any case I do not want you to feel
deeply disappointed in the way I have turned out.
Your loving William.

John Procter said very little. Mrs.
Procter cri'ed over the letter, Jane had a
variety oi eimotions. There w^as another
part of her life in that mininig* camp now,
thougfh she was honestly puzzled to know
why her brother did not want to meet
Framois Randall.

"I'll answer the letter and take it down
to the office before the eastern mail gxjea
out," said John Procter. "It will reach
Will before he starts west."

"It seems strange he does not say any-
thing' about sitopping to see ms on his way,"
saiid Mrs. Procter, sadly.

"Thast is what I was g"oing to urge him to
do," said John Procter, g-ravely.

He wrote a serious, loving letter to his
son. He did inot sny one word of reproval.
Rut he urg'ed him, for his mother's nnd
Jane's sake, to stop pt Markham on his
way West.

'Phe leJtter reached Andover the day be-
fore Williaim was to start. He had been

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

g-iven the place in the mill, and there was
no hesitation in his mind ubout ffoing-, but
th© letter from his father touched him.
He thoug-hit it over that night, an'd next
day he ibought his ticket wdth a Btop-iover
privilege.

John Procter was at the station to meet
him when the train came in. People on
the plaitform saw a riather slight, pale-
faced young man come down tr, meet th\2
older one. They shook hands siicntly
with a simple, "How dio you do, father?"
*I am glad to see you, William."

Inside the parsonage, William s.h.owed
more emotion when his mother and
Jane met him and kissed him. The tears
were in his eyes as he took off his coat and
hnng up his hat in the familiar hall. He
was at home.

"During the two days that followed, John
Procter and liis scm had some very eaimest
talks together. There had been a secret
hope in the faither's mind that his son
might reconteider his determiination to go
out of the ministry forever.

"I don't deny, Will," his father said, as
ihey sat in the study goinig over all the ar-
gumenits they were so familiar ^\'i)th, "I
don't deny that the church of Christ in the
world Is far from being what He prayed it
might be. P>uit do you think we shall help
to brinig in the millennium quicker by
abandoning the church and trying to do

THK MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

Christian work outside instead of insdde
•the org-anization?"

"1 cannot decide for any one else,
father," said William, and his pale blue
eyes spoke of a resolution that could not
be chang'ed. **lt is useless for me to think
f doing- MY Christian work in a pulpit. 1
would fail, as any man ought to fail who
tries to work where his heart is not in
it."

John Procter sig-livd and gave up all ef-

ort after that conversation to ehanig-e his

son's views. The only approach he made

to the subject ag-ain was just before Wil-

iara stepped on the train that carried him

west.

"You can preach from the pulpit of your
nill out there," he sug-gested.

William knew what he meant. He re-
plied as he shook hands very hard, "Yes,
father, I haven't lost my faith in Christ ns
^f aster, if I have lost faith in the church as
my workshop.'*

He stood a moment on the rear platform

of the oar, looking- eiarnestly at thie litt-lc

home group sitanding- oti the st-ation plat-

orm, and then turmed back to the parsion-

There was one little incident in Wil-
ia.m*s stop at Markham that has a place in
this narrative and belong-s to the cseries of
events that miade importiant histiory in the
lives of several persons in both Markhnm
and Pj'ramJd,

4«

THE MIRACI.K AT MAKKUAM

The same even lug be bad had that last
talk with his father, VVilllaau wa« in his
old room up Btairs packing his truiuk, put-
ting into it carefully, some things that
his mother and Jane had made for him.

Jane came in bringing t>ome tilings as
\Villi'a.m kneeled by the open trunk. lie
was just putting iito one of the pockets
of the tray a package of letters and pho-
tographs.

"Want to see some of my Seminary
classmiates?" he asked, as he h'ajnded her
the case of pictures.

June sat down on the floor by the trunk
ana began to take out the pictures. Wil-
liam continued his packing.

"Do they let girls study for the ministry
at Andover?" Jane asked.

"Whal's tbait?"

"Is that one of your classiuiiates at An-
dover?" Jane asked, a.s she turned the face
of an attraetive looking young woman to-
wards William.

"Give me that!" cried William with a
rudeness so unusual for his gentle spirit
that Jane was hurt by it.

She handed him the photograph and rose
to leave the room, but wais recalled by a
n»w tone of voice from W^illiam.

"Don't go, Jane. I'm upset. I thought
I had lost the picture. Come back. 1
want to tell you something."

Jane's curiosity w"as stronger than her

THE MIKACLK AT MAKKHAM

A'J

aioiufntar.y feeling-, and she eame back at
once and sat down by tlic trunk uguin.

"That is the face of the jjirl l love," baid
William, gravely.

"1 don't see anything dreadful about it,
Will. She looks like a very nice girl."

Will \va& iiilenit. Uie turned to the trunk

ig-ain.

"Tell me. Will," said Jane, putting an
arm around his neck as «he sat by him.

"There isn't much to tell," said William
in a muffled voice, as he threw a book into
the trunk. "We were engaged, and when
1 chang'ed views about going" on with the
ministry, she — well, we talked it over and
agreed it would be wiser to break the en-
g-ag-ement. She said she could not marry
me if I was not going to be a minister."

"How funny that is!" exclaimed Jane,
uddenly.

"I don't see anything funny about it,"
said William gloomily, as he turned away
from his sister.

"Oh, but it is," replied Jane. "Because,
Will, — I, — you see — ^this girl won't marry
ou unless yon are a minister, and I won't
— 'that is — I have made up my mind never
to marry any one who is a minister. If
we could only straig-hten things out. They
seem so mixed, someho^v."

W^illiam did not an.swer. Finally Jane
stole la little closer and laid her cheek
against his, and then William knew that

*r-m

5tJ

THK MIRACIvE AT MARKHAM

she was crying', because her cheek was wet,

"Dear mie!" he cried in some bewilder-
ment. "Are you, have you been disap-
pointed in love, toio, Jane?" he asked, for-
getting', for a moment, his own experience,

*'Xo," said Jane, crying- a little harder.
"1 am not disappointed. That isn't the
word." But she would not tell William
Hnything- imore, ^nd after finding" out that
tlie AndoAier gnrl w t^s a daughter of one of
the profesisors and also a teacher in the
})iiblic schools, like herself, she went out
and left William to himself,

"(lirls are so qiieer," he said, as he fin-
ished his packing". The mJssing photo-
i^rajih did not go back into the trunk, but
into an inside pocket, and out into that raw
mining" camp wifh its strange experiences,
William Proctor, once theoTogian, but now
assistant superintendent in the Golconda
Mill, carried a sore heart, as well as a dis-
turbed religious spirit.

He hiad been in Pj^ramid two weeks, and
was beginning" to get acquainted with his
new strange duitles in the mill, when one
evening he had a call from Francis Ran-
:la11.

Williiam was dressed in his workman's
cloihes and, like every other riiam in the
mill, waiR cover efd with duisrt: and grime.
The rattle of the niaehinery, the gloav of
the mixing carriage as it regularly
emerged from Its white hot furnace and

,:l!l

the; miraci<e at markham

rolled on its circular track rad/iating its
initense heat as it traveled oeaseletssly
around, the spla^shing of the chemical
Ktretani running- over the zinc reservoirs,
all combined to niake th« surroundings
' of the new asisistunt superinitend'ent full
of interest to one who had never seen
ihem.

Williani had stepped to the door of one
of the large vait rooms, and was standing
there enjoying* 'ii. bre«ith of pure air. He
had inhialed more than usual chlorine gaa
that afternoon, and it he choking sensation
combinied with his unusual efforts to ac-
custom his lungs to the great altitude of
Pyramid, gave his face a pallor almosit like
one in a dead faimt.

As he stood dn the door, Randall came up,
and before he hiad time to draw back in-
to (the vat rooon, the clergyman had put
out a. hamd, saying vdry heartily as he did
so:

"Glad to see you, Procter. I heard from
^ one of the Andover professors, a friend of
father's, that you were here. You're not
sick, I hope?"

He added the word.s as he saw William's
face closer in the evening light.

"Nothing serious. I've taken in a little
more of chliordne than is good for me.
Excuse me for noit shaking hands. These
rubber gloves don't come off easy."

"Yes, I know." Francis spoke with a

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

quiet maininer that made William feel as if
he was as w€ll dressed as the clerg^yman.
That was one of the good things about
Randall. lie never impressed anybody
with his own superiority of dress.

Th'e two young men ptood talking a few
minutes by the door, and then Randall
started on.

"I'll be very glad if you'll come and see
me," siaiid Randall. "I'm stopping, for the
j)resein't with Mr. Clark, the Congrega-
tional minister. I hane a room there. It
you want any books at any time, my li-
brary is at yonr disposal."

"Tlinnk you," said ^Yilliam. He did not
say that he would come, and Francis did
not a/ppear to notice It.

"He never sadd a word about church, or
coming' 'to hear him, or anything of that
.«iort," said WilWam to himself, as he
turned back into the vat room. "He seems
like a sensible siort of fellow, but I 8up.pose
he is high clnirch enough when it comes
to his preaching and ritual and all that,
riuess I'll have to go to church next Sun-
da v and hear him."

And when Sunday c^ame. he went with
some curiosity to hear Randall preach.
Some interesting things came of that cur-
iosity, which belong to the history of
Markhaini fully as much as to that of
Pyramid.

Meanwhile Dean Randall was unable to

.;u

THK MIRACI^: AT MARKHAM

throw off the impression made by his son's
letter. In spite of his attempt to lorget
it, the istrug-gfle in his mind grew. It final-
ly narrowed down to the plain question of
his personal ambition for the Bishopric and
the opportunity to use his church for the
g-row'th of Christianit3\ iHis own ambition
ami the cause of Christ were fin«ally in open
and unmistakable conflict.

It must be f?aid this result had not been
reached suddenly. Dean Raudtall's experi-
ence for several years bad been silently
and slowly shaping" maititers. His son's let-
ter was only one additional influence. But
while the people in his parish a.nd the citi-
zens of Miarkbaim and the ministers of the
othe.' churchies never dreamed of anj
strug-g-le in the life of the scholarly re-
served Kpiscoipal clerg-yman, there wa
daily growino- in the Episcopal Manse, a
conflict which was the conflict between a
personal selfish narrow ambitirn^ and the
w!orld-wide power of the cross, — 'a strugfgfle
a.s old as Cethsemane an<l always full of th(
most intense and vital interest to the hu-
man race.

At the end of three weeks after the re-
ceT>tion Off his son's letter, the Dean's con-
fliot had reached a crisis. How g-reat that
risis was, not even he knew^. But he w^as
s?oon to have the clearest and severest ie^it
made of Ws church life. That test was
.^aused by « n«tural event.

THE MlRACI^Ii AT MAKKHAM

The Dean was iu his study Friday nife'ht.
It was late, but lie keipt on writing-. Once
he looked up at his "Christ in Gethsem-
ane." The wind was blowing hard, and
shook -the mndovvs and whistled sharply
down tlie br'oad chimney.

Towards miunight, the Deun went to his
window and looked ouit. He had bean
standing there several minutes, when he
noticed an unusual light dn the Congrega-
tional Church.

John Procter had a study room in the
church, but he seldom used it at night.
Tlje Dean stood watching the gleaan
through the windows of the vestry. It
grew stronger. Suddenly, a sharp tongue
of flame shot through the \vindow over one
of the doors, and the Dean knew at once
what the light was.

He ran into the other room and called
out to his wFfe: "The Congregational
Church is on lire!" He snaitched his liat
end ran out.

By the time he had reached the chuTch,
flameis were leaping out of the little win-
dows above the bell in the steeple Al-
most the entire town turned out. With
he help of the fire department they saved
the parsonage, bat the church was com-
l)letely destroyed. The people drew back
in awe as the ete^eple fell uipon the roof,
blown by the gule which seemed to drive
the tall, blazing torch through the air like

THE MIRACi%K AT MARKHAM

::i

a giant spear do'.vn tbrough the timbers.

John Procter and his ivife and Jane
stood in the parsonage yard looking at the
Bmoldering heap. That was several hours
sifter the church was firsit seen to be on
lire. A group of neighbors and church
members stood near the minister's famliy.

The Dean came up. He had been work-
ing hard, with scores of other men, carry-
iing J'ohn Procter's books out when it
looked as if the parsonage musit go with
tlie church. He had also helped to carrj'
them back ag^ain, when the dlangea* was
over. Several times during" the excite-
laent he had noticed Mr. Harris, the Bap-
tist minister, hiard at work. Once they
had hold of the same box containing some
valuable papers and piotures from John
Procter's library.

"Well," John Procter was saying to one
of his parishioners, "This is one less church
building in Ararkham, ait any rate."

"Very sorry for you, neighbor," said the
Dean. He was blackened and a little
burne'd. His coat was torn across the
back, and his whole appearance was very
tin ministerial.

"Very kind of you, Dean Randall." .«»aid
John Procter, shaking hands with him,
heartdly. "I can't s'ay that T would like to
do the same thing for you, some time, but
T certainly owe you much and appreciate
your kindness."

7iIR MIRACI«1<; AT MARKHAM

"You wan'-t have any place to preach
next Sunday," said Mr. Harris, before the
Dean could reply. "We shall be glad to
otter your people the use of the Baptist
Church in the luoruing-."

John Procter was undoubtedly aston-
ished. He said to himself, *'l have done
Harris an injustice." Aloud he said:

"Thank you, heartily, Harris. 1 accept
your offer for my i>eople, with pleasure."

The Dean hesitated, Xo one there in
that disheveled group of people Btanding
about the ruins of that church building-,
had any idea that one of their number
was having- a battle with himself beside
which the recent fight with the fire was
inisignificawt.

It was on the lips of the Dean to say,
"We shall be glad to give, your people the
use of the Cathedral in the evening,
nedghbor."

But he checked himc^lf with the thought
of the astonishment that would come into
all those people's faces at such an. invita-
tion.

He h«d taken a step towards John Proc-
ter. He now stepped back, and after
anOither strange hesitation he walked
away.

When he reached home, he lay down on
his lounge in the study. It was nearly
morning. His wife thought he was
n sleep. He was broad awake and asking

THE MIRACI,E AT MARKHrtM 57

"ViiKY K.1M> <Ji' VOU, l>IiA*N KAN»ALL.'*

THR MIRACr,K AT MARKHAM

hitmself the question, "Shall I invite Proc-
ter to us/e my pulpit next Sunday or the
Sundlay afiter?" Simple as the question
was, uipan its answer depended the fu-
i\^Tp. ambitiiom of the Dean. But when the
morninig finially dawned, the question had
not found an answer. •

CHAPTER V.

THE POWER OP CHRISTIAN COMMrKITT.

T was Sun<lay morning
in Markliam, after the
burning- of the Congre-
tioual Church. John
J'roeter was in his
study reading over tlie
sermon which ho ex-
pected to preach in
the Baptist Church.
He bad chosen a written sermon which
he had preiached to his own people sev-
eral years before. It was one of his best,
so his wife said. There was noithing in it
which could possibly oflf end any one of any
trther denoanlnlaition. "It Tvas a sermon
just as giood for one man as for another,"
John Procter said to himself, as he walked
up and down, turning over the manuscript
lo familiarize himself with the .sentences.
He asked himself once or twice why every
sermon was not g^ood for aJI men alike.

It was nearly half pasit ten o'clock, and
he was about to come out of the study and
call his wife and daughter, when Jane
knocked at the door, and whoa he opened
it, banded him a note.

"The servant broughit it over just now
f.rom the Dean," she said. "She is waiting
lor an answer."

i > .

tup: miracl,k at makkham

John Procter was surprised. The Dean
had never written 'him a letter, and he
had no possible hinlt as to what the note
coniained. It was /therefore )n the great-
est astonishmenit that John Procter read
the following:

My Dear Brother and Neighbor:— I under-
stand that Brother Cameron, of the Presbyter-
Ian Church, has invited you to speak from his
pulpit this evening, but if it does not seem
to you to come too late to be hearty, will you
accept my invitation to occupy the pulpit of
Grace Cathedral next Sunday morning? If you
will reply by a word and send it over by the
servant, I will announce to my people at my
Eervice this mommg. and Brother Harris can
do the same from his pulpit. Mrs. Randall
joins me in sympathy with you for your loss,
and congratulates Mrs. Procter and yourself
on the saving of your par.sonage.
In Christ's name.
Your brother and neighbor,

Nathan Randall.

If the Dean had come into hia study and
fired a gun at him, John ProKer could
hardly have been more astonished than he
was by the rece]5ition of this note. He
nibbed his eyes and read the note again.
There was no mistake about it. The Dean
had actually inviteil liim to preach in the
Episcopal Church. It was an unheard of
thing. It had never happened in Mark-
ham, before. T5ut even In the mids;t of
his astonishment and excitement, John
Procter said to hinnself, "I don't know whj'
I ought to be astonished. If we are all

THE MIRACI<E AT MARKHAM

alike Christians, why not?" In spite of
that, he was astonished a good deal and
much perplexed. He stood a moment with
the note in his hand. Then he remembered
that the servant was waiting. He stepped
out into the hall. Mrs. Procter and Jane
were ready for chvirch and waiting for him.

"Are you ready, John? It is time to
go," saiid Mrs. Procter.

"Read that," said John Pi'octer, handing
the Dean's note to her.

"Wh}', he has actually invited you to
preach in Grace Caithedral!" exclaimed
Mrs. Procter.

"He is waiting for an aniswer," said John
Procter, thoiug'htfully.

"There's only one answer to give to such
an invitation, John."

John Procter lookeil at his wife and
daughter and tlien stepped back iwto his
situdj"^ and wrote his reply. It was very
short, but he experienced more emotion
while writing it than he had felt over the
composition of most of his sermons.

My Dear Brother— I am glad to accept your
invitation to preach next Sunday morning in
Grace Cathedral. I accept it in the same
spiri<^ of Christian fellowship which prompts
you to make it. We thank you for your sym-
pathy, and pray for great blessings on you and
your people today.
To the Very Rev, Dean Randall, Grace Cathe-

d»'al. Your neighbor,

John Procter.

rnZ MIRACLE AT MARKUAM

lie sent his note over to the Manse by
the servant, and with Mrs. Procter and
Jane, started for the Bapitist Church.

"Were you ever more surprised in your
life?" asked Mrs. Procter as they wailked
along.

"No, I donlt know as I ever was," said
John Procter, gravetly.

"Airs. Kanidiall told jne that Franci — ^thia't
her son out in Pyramid, had lately in-
vited the Congregational minjiater there to
preach in his pulpit," said Janle, giving out
some of the confidence Mrs. Kandall had
shared with her that day when she had run
over to the Manse.

"The father is following his son's exam-
ple in this catse," said Mrs. Procter with a
slighit smile.

"It is very remarkable." John Procter's
mind was excited by the event, buit he
was sfilent until they reached the church.
Mr£<. Procter and Jane went in, and he
wenit around to .the side enltrance where
the minister's situdy was.

The people of Markham who were pres-
ent at the Baptist Church that morning,
will never forgert^ the service. Jt made an
impression on fthem thiait they felt for
yearfi.

The church was filled to overflowing.
John Prociter's congreg-atJoii turned out
almost to a member, and the Baptist
people were pro-semt more largely than

XHK miuacm; at maukham

••'WliKK YOU KVKR MOKE SUKI'RISKD IN YOUK
LIFE?' ASKED MRS. PROCTER."

THE MIRACI<E AT MARKHAM

usual. Is'eariy every person in the audi-
ence was known to John Pi"octer, person-
ally, end all of them sympaithized with him
in bis loss. During" his fifteen years' res-
idence in Markham, he bad won the re-
?ipect and coniidence of his townsmien,
and they all liked him as a preacher.

The lirsit disltinct surprise to the con-
gregation came when the Baptist minister
gave out the mo/tices.

He read all the notices relating to his
own church, imcluding the preaching of
Joihn Procter at the Presbyterian Church
in the evening, and then efter a little
pause he said:

"I have, also, to announce esipecially for
the benefit of our friends fi''om the Con-
gregational Church, who are with us to-
daj, that their pastor, by invitation from
Dean Randall, wall preaeh in Grace Cathe-
dral next Sunday morning."

A distinct shock wenit over the people.
They turned and looked ques;tiomngly at
on© another. Very many whispered to
their neiighbors — "What was that? Did
you undersitand he said the Episcopal
Church?" Never in all the church his-
tory of Miarkham, had such a .surprising
notice been given out froan a pulpit.

The second marketl feature of the service
was John Procter's sermon.

When he rose and laid his manuscript on
the open Bible, he was seen to hesitate a

THE MIRACI,E AT MARKHAM

moment, aiul ilien slowly shut the Bible
np, and shut his written sermon within it.

He stood a moment looking- over tJie
pulpit to the pe!ople, and then beg-an
slowly to talk about the event of the fire
which had destroyed his church. He
could not let the occasion go by, he said,
without thankimgr his toavnsmen for the
kindly prompt as.sistance they had given
him and his family during the danger
which had threatened his home. He felt
as il he owed a special word of thanksgiv-
ing- to his neighbor, the pastor of the
church W'here he and his people were
grateful g-uests this morning", for the care-
ful zeal he had shown in looking- after the
books and pictures in his study at the
parsonaig-e.

All this the people listened ito with
pleased interest, and it seemed entirely
in keeping with the character of the occa-
sion, buit they were evid'enltly waiting" and
expecti^ig" the minister to open the Bible
find beg-in his sermon. Instead of doings
so, John Pi-oc/ter went on mth a natural
continuation of his persontal remarks
about the helpfulness shown on the nigfht
of the fire, to speak in general about the
power which an entire Christian commun-
ity might have if it would unite as one to
f5avc the whole town from the common
danger of siu as it had united to save one
family in the case of the burning church.

THE MIRAC/^K At MARKHAM

because their danger was the town's dan-
ger, as well.

"There is the lire of the saloon, for ex-
ample," John Proct'cr went on, and he had
r>ever pre^ached betiter, so his own people
and the Baptist people, as well, thoug'ht,
"A fire which threatens every home.
What a fig-ht we could make ag^ainsft it if
all the Christians in Markham were
united. There is the fire of Sabbath dese-
cration growing more coarse and open
every j^ear. If the Chris;tian people in all
the churches really came together as one,
could they mot put that fire out? There
is the fire of the neglected factory dis-
trict, where vice anid crime arc growing".
Is not that a common danger point that
we ought to be facing together? There is
the fire of corrupt selfish x>olitical control
of our own town. If all the church mem-
bers in Markham a-liways \'oited together
for the best man regardless of national
part}' divisions, couild we net elect the mon
of our choice and put out forever this fire
of personal selfishness which biims within
the state and endangers all the best life
of our municipality? Thrre is the fire of
wasteful, selfish amusements which even
in oTfr comparaitively small community
drains the time and strength not only of
the umchristlan but of the professing
^'hriatian population as Avell. Tf we were
working together with n common purpose

THK MIRACI,Ii AT MARKHAM

as disciples of one Master, do you uot
think we could reduce this wasitef uluess to
a miuiinuni, and redeem the time which
does not belong- to us, but to the Lord who
•♦•ave up all for our salvation?"

So John Proeter continued that morn-
ing- preaching- far better than he knew.
The application of the tire to the condi-
tion in Markham was so clear, so plain and
.lust, that the congregation felt and ac-
knowledged the strength of the apxjeal.
Heads »iadded in assent all over the house.
Surely if they would all turn out in a
Dddy, as tliey had done, to save one
anoither's property from physical fire, it
was beyond a doubt a more necessary
thing- that they unite to put out these
other fires that endangered the souls of
the people. Thatt they were not doing" i*
was evident from the facts which John
J'rocter pictured as he drew his sermon to
a close. The saloon in Maikham was pow-
erful. Tlie desecration of the Sabba1«h
was growing- worse. The factory district
was a source of constant crime. The po-
litical management of the town was con-
trolled by the moai selfish and unprinoiplec
men. The young- men and women of
Markham were throwing- away the most
valuable hours of their leisure in dancing
and whist playing and fri\x)lity. Mean-
while. Markham had ttwelve churches,
twelve ministers, twelve church buildings

THK MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

Endeavor Societies, prayer meeting's,
preaching, 'and all the forms of religious
life. But it was not directed itowards a
common end, nor animated by a common
desire to bring in the reign of the king-
dom of God in Marlvham.

It was ait the very close that John Proc-
ter showed the wisdom of his appeal. It
would have been an easy thing for a man
of narrow zeal in speaking along the line
of Christian Union to ofTend unconscious-
ly the disciples of other denominations.

John Procter avoided ithls. It was noth-
ing short of the divine power of the Holy
G^host that saved his sermon from doing
more harm than good. He finished his
sermon with such a loving- and Ghristian
spirit, that all were touched by it. He al-
luded, in w^ords of gratitude, again, to the
brotherly spirit which had prompted the
IJaptist people to welcome his own that
morning. He spoke of the service which
had been announced for the Episcopal
Church the next Sabbath with a deep feel-
ing of prai.se for such a union of Christian
believers. And he concluded the sermon
with a prayer of unusual power and beau-
ty that the spirit of truth might lead them
into all the truth, and make possible,
.'speedily, the loving prayer of Jesus that
His disci^iles might be one, even as He was
one with the Father.

It was, perhaps, the truest test of the

!'.-.!)

THK MIRACIvE AT MARKHAM

impression made by this sermon that when
the service was over, the people began at
once to talk aboivt it. Instead of discussing*
as they usinally did, social and political
happenings of the week. They conifcinued
talking about if on the way home, and dur-
Inig theii' dinners that afternoon. If there
liad been given the congregaition an op|X)r-
tunity to speak in an after-meeting, there
is no question that very many voices from
both the churches would have eagerly siaid
nmen to all that John Procter had said.

Charles Harris and John Procter walked
slov'^y away from the church, togei^her.
Thv»y were the la sit to leavr.

"T want to thank you again for that ser-
mon," said Mr. Harris, when he reached
the corner where he turned down another
street to his home. The two men were
alone. Their families had gone on home
to prepare dinner.

"J am very glad if 1 spoke right, if I said
what all the people need."

"T believe you did," said Harris, slowly.
He paused and then looking at Procter,
said with a tone that revealed more feeling
than Proeter had ever given him credit
for:

"Procter, T sui]>po«e you and T really,
deep do^vn, want to see God's will done in
Markham. But T suppose we have either
purposely ov ignoi-^ntilv misunderstood
I'ael'. other in church matters. Don't vou

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

think perhaps all of us minisiters here in
iviai'kham have failed to know each other
as we might know?"

John Procter was startled. Again he re-
called with almost a glow of condemna-
tion, his own pen picture of the different
minisiters of Markham as he thought he
knew them.

"I have no doubt of it. We criticise and
condemn without kno^wing ithe facts, with-
out really knowing one another. Bujt if
we only oould g;et together — "

He spoke with an emotion he really felt
an e-motion which was the result of the
whole service in the church.

"Perhaps we shall sometime — " the Bap-
tisit minister s])oke slowly as before.
The 'two men paused a moment, looking in-
to each other's faces with a new and kind-
lier look than they had ever known. They
parted with a friendly handshake, and each
walked home very thoughtfully.

That was an eventful Sabbath in Mark-
ham. John Procter, not even himself yet
realizing the way he was being led of the
8j)irit, not reckoning that he had already
pasvsed far beyond even all his pasit exper-
ience in his desire for a union of church
jife sj)oke again on the same tJieme in the
^*resbyterian Church in the evening. He
was at fii*st tempted to take his written
sermon which he had ex]jected to use in
the morning, liut the glow of the morn-

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

^it^

injf service had, duringf the day, grown in-
to a vvhiite heat which reflected the inward
passion of tlie man. The theme of tlie
Union of Christendom is large. It has
many side<s of approach. The m,iiiisters
of all the churches mig-ht well take a whole
year to preach a year's sermons upon it.
So John Procter had no difficulty in avoid-
ing" a repetition of the morning's ser-
mon.

He showed how already the different de-
nominations held in matters of essential
life practically everything alike. There
was no dispute in any of the denomina-
tions over the great moral and spiritual
lessons of Jesus. Conduct was a thing
tha>t amounted to the same thing in a
rresbyterian or a Congregationalist or a
Baptist or an EpiscopalJan. The Sermon
on the INIoumt was not sectarian. It was
human. Christian character flowed out of
a love for Christ and a desire to imitate
llimi. So the churches after all, did be-
lieve alike when it came to the absolutely
vital ithinigs of existence, which were
summed up in fhe Greart Law of Christ,
Love to God and Love to Man.

It was said by those who were present
a.t the Presbyterian Church in Markham
that night, that such a rermon had never
been heard in the town before. Again as
in the morning, the Holy Spirit seemed to
baptize the ser ice with His presenee.

THK MIRACUK AT MARKHAM

Hugh Cameron thanked John Pro«ter
with tears in his eyes.

"We miis,t have yow and your ])eoiple with
us ag-ain, «oon, he said heartily, as they
parted at the close of the service, and
a<g"ain the two ministers felt the thrill of
an unaccustomed fellowship in 'the clasp
of Iiands.

That mig-ht. for the first time in the life
of that town, it almost seemed as if the
Christian disciples of Markham were to be
stirred out of their long; years of formal
sectarian habits. And yet John Procter
in a mioment of natural reaolion, as he
weni* over the events of the two services,
could not ermvd out of his mind the old
.^fuesitioii. "How can the churches ever
regally unite? Can it ho done without a
miracle? The emotions are easy to stir.
Is it any more that has been done today?
When it comes to actual, vital union, what
will the churches d'O? That is the ques-
tion."

Nevertheless he went forward that week
with a new sensation as he anticipated
the service in the Episcopal Church. What
should he preach about? Would it be wise
■^o continue tTiis same subject of church
'inion? He had uever given the choice of
a subject for preaching so much thought
since he left the seminary twenty-five
years before.

CHAPTKR VI.
AN INTERVIKW WtTII TItIC BISHOP.

UT deeply as the two
congregations had
been moved that Sab-
bath by John Procter's
preaeliing-, it was insig-ni-
iicant compared with the
feeling- aroused in the en-
tire town by the notice which rapidly
spread of his invitation to preach iu Grace
Cathedral the following- Lord's day. The
knowledg^e of this coming unheard of
event, soon passed beyou<l the limits of
Markham, and before the end of the week
reached the ears of Bishop Park, w^ho lived
in the Episcopal residence of Rodney, onHy
iwenty-iive miles from Markham. Dean
Randall's church was in his diocese, aind
the two men were on more than usually
intimate terms. In fact, among the othe?
recent letters to be found in Dean Ran-
dall's eorrespandence, wa« more than one
from Bishop Park, assuring- him of his, the
Bishop's, support in the coming selection
of a new Bishop for t»he office soon to be
vacant.

The Dean was in his study Friday morn-
ing, when the servant announced a caller,
ftml the Dean, going out into the hall, was
greeted by Bishop Park.

TUli MlRACr,!*: AT MAKKHAM

'J'here was a inomnit of roiifusioii on the
Dean's face. But he quickly lecoverecl
liimself, and when his visitor was seated
before him, in the study, he looked into his
face very quietly and waited for him to be-
gin tlie conversaition.

The Hisho]) was more einbarassed than
the Dean. He was a hirge man with a ten-
derer to eori)uleiiee. His face was the
face of an unusually gxjod-na.tured, ea«y-
"foing" temperament. He was exceedingly
popular with the clergy of his diocese. His
jiitimiaey with Dean Itandall darted from
college days.

"l suppose you know wliy 1 liave come
over this morning?" He asked the (piea-
tion very mildly, and with a smile which
was as friendly as usual.

"You have heard of my new departure.
I was just writing to you about it." The
Dean pointed to his desk and a letter lying-
there.

"f do not need to tell yon it is a most
astonishing piece of U'ews, Randall. In
fact, it is so remarkable that I have come
to verif3' it from your own lips. It is the
last thing' I ever expected from you."

"It is the last thing I ever expected of
mys( If." The Dean replied with a voice
and manner fliat the IJishop did not nn-
derstand.

"Of eourse." continued the Bishop with
just a faint trace of irritation in his tone.

THK MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

"of course, you know that in giving- this in-
vitation to a ininistor of another denomi-
naifion. you are violating- one of the canons
of the church. I do not neefl to remind no
old a churchman as you are, of Canon 17,
Title 1, of our Church Lavrs." The Bishoj)
said it with the nearest approach to 8ar-
casm he was ever known to \ise.

"Of course, that proes without saying-."
the Dean answered quietly.

"Ami, of course," continued the Hishop,
looking- at the Dean curiously, almost as if
he ex|)ected to detect sijrns of mental fail-
(ire in him, "you are familiar with the
words of the 'Preface to the Form and
Manner of Making-. Ordaining" and Conse-
crating" Tiish'ops, Priests and Deacons. Ac-
cording" to the Order of th«' Protestant
and Episco])al Cliurch in the Unite<l vStates
of America as established in the vear
1792?"

The Dean nodded g-ravely; and the
Bishop, picking" up a prayer book which
lay on a table near by, read somewhat
mechanically froTn the appcmlix at the
end of the Psalter.

" 'AtkI, therefore, to the intent that
these orders (Tfishops. Priests and Dea-
cons) may be continuetd, and reverently
used and esteemed in this church, no man
shall be accounted or taken to be a law-
ful Bishop, Priest, or Deacon, in this
church, or suffered to execute any of the

run. MIKACIyH AT MAKKHAM

isaid fuuctlons, except he be called, tried,
examined and admitted therwto, aecordiii',''
to the form hereafter follo'winjf, or hatli
liad Episeopal Consecration or Ordinu-
Hon.' " *

The Bishop laid the prayer book down,
and looked over ait the Dean, and there
wftK a puzzled look on his {jfood-natured
face sua he did so.

"Of course 1 know all that as well as I
know the prayers themselves," said the
Dean.

"Then it is impossible, my dear friend,
that you can invite to preach in the ijulpit
ol' Grace Ca.thedral, this Congregational
minister. In suffering- him to execute one
of the functions of our church, namely,
the preaching of the Word, you violate
one of the distinct and absolute laws of
our church. You throw the established
order of the church into confusion, and in
doing' so, you overthrow your own priestly
oi"der. It will lead to grave results which
I feel in duty "bound to warn yon of. In
.short," the Bishop had spoken with unusivai
t arnestness, "in short, my friend, your
action in this matter is entirely kiwless.
It is the act, of one who repudiates his
own church and it« rules. I am absoluite-
ly astonished when 1 consider you, of all
men, disregarding this distinct and es-
tablished canon of church authority."

The Dean's face was verv white as the

THK MIRACLE AT MAKKHAM

nishop spokf. When he replied, it was
*vith a voice which was under evident deep
control.

"I realize the truth of all you have said.
1 have gone over all the ground you have
travele<l. Hut — " and the Dean looked
straight at the Bishop, "na man to man, as
Christian to Christian, Bishotp Park, may
I here not come a time in a man's life when
the canons, the customs, the laws of his
( hurch, even, shall be of less authority to
nim than a higher canon or law which God
l)id« him follow? Are the laws of my
church more binding on me than the laws
of my conscience or my sense of what is
deeply and vitally Christlike?"

The Bishop did not reply immediately.
Over his usually easy look had crept a
more deeply moved expression which
:hose who did not know him well, never
had seen there.

"1 don't deny, Randall, that in many
ways several of the old customs, even some
vi the canons of the Episcopal Church,
iiave become obsolete. They are no longer
anything but traditions, even ithough they
have not yet been revoked. But this can-
on in regard to the exercise of the church
functions by other ministers is a vital
church law. To disregard it is to cause a
serious break in the established oi'der of
our church life."

"But can you tell me. Bishop, what i>os-

THE MlRACIvI": AT MARKHAM

sibie harm can come to any one. if a g-ood
Christian man, of j^-reat usefulness as a
minister, a man of long- experience in the
church, prea^'hes the g'ospel stalling" in
the pulpit of Grace Cathedral? He is as
much a Christian disciple as you or I. He
believes in the same teaching and practices
:t. in his daily life. He is g'oing to the
same heaven. He has the same g-osjK'l
ihat you and I have. Wha^t possible harm
can come from his preaching a sermon to
my people in my church?"

"That is not the questdon at all," re-
plied the Bishop, and again he shoiwed
signs of u little temper, "the question is
purely one of our church canon. It is
simply a question of whether you, an E])is-
eopal clerg-yman. deliberately choose 'to
make a law for yourself in defiance of the
one which the church has laid down for
you to follow. 1 do not question the
Christian character of Mr. Procter. From
all I know of him he is n most worthy
man. Hut if you invite him to preach in
(Jrace Cathe<lral. vdu deliberately tres-
pa.ss on one of the established orders of the
Epl^ccpal Church. Von ceiase to be a
representative of that church. And you
make yourself an example of kiwless con-
duct In the chnreh which will ci-emte con-
fusion aind trouble."

The Dean -as silent. The great crisis
of his life w.is on him. He knew it well.

THIi MlRACIvK AT xMARKHAM

"lie guided by me in this matter," the
Bishop went on, niisiniterpreting" tlie
Dean's look. "You can asl-: to be excused
from this hasty invitation. It niay be true
that people will not understand your
change of mind, but the outside world does
not understand the action of the Episco-
pal Church in this matter, anyway.'

"T cannot g'o back now," replied the
Dean in a low voice. "1 have given the in-
vitation to Brother Procter, and he has ac-
cepted it in goofl faiith. What my future
action may be, 1 do nO(t l<now. J have
Thought I might go out of the church and
even work elsewhere, I know well enough
that what I have done makes me subject to
a trial if I remain and still claim my stand-
ing with the clergy. Tt is possible I shall
think it best to stay wht're 1 am and face
such a trial for the purj>ose of testing the
stability of the canon. I have, for several
years, been growing to feel thait even that
law which forbids I's to invite into our
pulpits ministers of ^ther denominations
would in tlmc'^ cea^ie to be regarded as
vital. Great cnaiiges are coming into the
•ife of the church everywhere. We are on
I he edge of many revolutions as regards
established orders and dogmas and tradi-
tions. Christ *s law is beginning to be felt
as of more authority than church law.
And when I compare His desire that His
flisciples might be one with the customs

tSo

THE MiRACLE AT MARK HAM

which have kept His disciples apart, I am
conscience free in tliis matter of haviu^'
inA'dted his brother minister to speak in
Christ's name in a Christian church. I feel
that it is rloht."

The IJisho]) %\as sile-nt a long" time after
the Dean had finished. Then he said,
speaking' with a <lellbera.tion which the
Dean conld not hcl]) l)ut notice.

'Of course. Randall, all this, you know
well, enoug"!!, makes any possible oipportnn-
ity for yon to receive the choice for the
Bishop's office out of the {|uestion. No
man can expect fto fill that ])lace Avho de-
liberately disobeys a definite canon of the
church."

"Of course. T have thong-ht that all out,"
reiplied the I3ean. Foi* an instant his eyes
rested on the picture Off "Chrisit in (ieth-
semane." 'fhe Bishop did not know euoug-h
about that strug'g-le of the Dean's to real-
ize what his answer meant. Still, he
knew that the Dean's ambition had been
very strong- in the direction of the
Uishopric.

Ag^ain that puz/le<l look came into the
Bishop's eyes. In all his exj>erienice he
had never ha<l a similar case. The Dean's
prominemce in the church, his scholarly
reputation, his long--stanidin.g' as a ■church-
man, were sure fto make his departure from
^'ihe estaiblished rule, marked, lit waw a
case that cculd not 1 e overlooked. What

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

Ihe fiii'al rosiill would ht. iiol evcu the
llishop was prepared to say.

At last he rose, still with the perplexed
look thait had grown deef>er from the be-
tj'inninig" of his interview with the Dean.

"Honbestly, Kandall, I fail to iindersitand
.\ our action, ft eontradiets youi' whole
life. Once more you must let me warn you
that all this will eaust- trouble and harm
the causie of the church. As you, yourself
hav'^ said, it will make you liable to trial
lor breach of the chui"'ch discipline. As
one of your best friends, I shall anitici-
paite such ii trial with great ]>ain."

The Dean (li<1 not answer tiiis. Kome-
iiotw he felt that good as the i5ishop was,
he had not undei'stood. at all, the deepest
motive which had pronipted that invitation
hcnt to John iM-octei".

So 'the Hishop went back to his Kpisco-
pal residence very much disturbed in
spirit. He was astonished, distressed, am]
as far as his natni'e woidd allow, he was
ang'ry. Meanwhile, the people oF .Mark-
ham no less puzzled at the Dean's action,
awaited in deep initerest. th(> Service which
had l)een announced for (Jrace Cathedi-ai
Sunday moinin$>'.

Tlie evening" o-l' the .same day which
marked tlie visit of the Bishop to the
Dean, which we have just recorded, was
the occasion of an important meeting- of
Ihe trn.stees of the Cong'regational Church.

THE MlRACI^li AT MARKHAM

It was the regular monthly business
meeting, but of more ithan usual interest,
on accaunt of the burning- of the chureh
buildinig, and the subject of rebuilding
wiiieh, as a matter of course, was the prin-
cipal subject to be discussed.

The occasion was so import-tint tliat in
anticipation of a. Congregational meeting
Hie following week, the board of trustecK
had inv'ited to confer with them the pas-
tor, deacons and all other church officers.

They met at the parsonage, and had
been discussing, for several minuter, in a
general way, the proposition to rebuild the
cluirch.

"It's a very hard time, just now, to rtfise
money," said Deacon liruce, with a sigh.
"Crops have failed and business is very
dull."

'•That's so," added Mr. Rose, the chair-
man of the board. "Of course, our insur-
ance will help ns on the start, but it is not
enough to put up such a buildiug as we
ought to have."

"If we build again, we ought to build of
stone, inistead of wood, it scms to me."
remarked another member of the board.

"The Sunday School rooms ought to be
made more modern." said the superintend-
eriit. "That would mean, at least, a thor-
.^and dollars extra."

"We need at least seven thousand dollars
to rebuild properly," added the chureh

THlv MIRACI.lv AT MARKHAM

treasurer who bad been busily figuring up
the it<?uis of oost.

John Procter hatl said \c'ry little so far.
He had replie<l to quest iouis, but had not
ventured to nuike any remarks about the
oost of a new building, or its size, or archi-
tecture.

"I would like to ask our pa.stor what he
thinks about the kind of a building we
ouglit to put up," finally iaterrup<e<l the
chairman. "He is more deeply initere«t«d,
perhaps, than we are in the new church
building,"

All the faces turned towards John Proc-
ter. For fifteen ye^ars the church oiKcers
had consulted him repeatedly in mattei's
that belonged to the business affairs of
the parisl). and his judgment and goo<l
sense had always been highly prized.

lie looked around the little gi'oup of
church people, and his look was very grave
and "thoughtful.

"The fact is, dear- friends, that 1 have
reached a conclusion in regard to a new
^huri'h l)uilding that will, perhaps, asiton-
ish you. I have come to believe that it
would be best for us not to rebuild at all,
because there are too many church build-
ings in Markhani already."

The enitire grouj) of church ofticers was
smitten into astonished silence. They
looKed at John Procter with strangely ex-
cited faces. At last the chairman of the

THK MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

board manag'ed to Rt«immer, "Why, what,
how do you mean, Mr. I'rocter? \Vhat.
can we do as a church if \\v liave no build-
ing?"

"\Vc can worship and work with some
other church in .\fai-khaiu," n'pIicKl ,)olni
Procter calmly.

An astonislied silence fell overfthe room,
hi the hush of fliat .silence if they bad but
known it. there was the firsit sig-n of a won-
derful revolution in the established order
of things that had so far governed the
church life of Markfeam.

CHAPTER VII.

WILLIAM REARS A SKRMO.V,

HEX William Procter
walkt'd into thf
Epis&opal Church of
I'yramid the Sunday
following his meeit-
ing- with Francis Uan-
dall, he was prepare<l
to criticise, in detail,
everything- he saw and
hear d. The spirit
of unrest and dlssatisraction in him which
had compelled him to leave the Seminary
and give up the ministry had never been
so strong in him as when he entered the
pew which the usher showed him, and
sat down to wait the few minutes before
the service began.

He had atten<le(l the Episcopal service
often wiiile a student at Audover. Several
times he had been in fioston and heanl
Philli]>s I'rooks, uplifted and borne on by
his great hearted eloquence which removed
all criticism of the special foinns of the
ch\irch service itself.

P>ut today, William w-as in a mood which
miarks and magnifies trifles. He found
himself sneering just a little at the robe
which litindall wore when he appeared in
the chancel.

THK MrRACI.K AT MARKHAM

He wa« tempted to criticise the singing
of the choir which was composed of young
men and women some of whom were un-
familiar with tlie music of the service, ile
thought the frequent change from the
sitting to « Htanding position savored of
liypocrisy and dead formality.

But gradually the spirit of the man in
the pulpit began to affect William Procter
d liferent iy. There was no oant or formal-
ity in the way Rand-all read the prayers
and the collect. William Procter wliile in
the Seminary, had committed most of the
])rayers in the lilpiscopal prayer book to
memory, and honestly thought them very
beautiful. He was compelled to acknowl-
edge thait Randall read them uncommonly
well. In fact, he did not read them so
much as say them. As he followed the
words .silently, calling them uj) in mem-
ory, \Villiani Procter found himself asking
if he himself could have put as much real
feeling and meaning into the same sen-
tences if he had to repeat them every Sun-
day morning the year around.

So it came labout that when the sermon
Avns reached, William Procter had almost
nncooisciously passed into a .spirit of
ready acceptance of the truth, and his
cri'ticial dissatisfied mind was for the time
being disposed to receive what the preach-
er had to give, if he had anything to give
that was worth while.

THK MIK.VCM'; AT .MARKHAM

F.ut Ilrwtltill hiu\ not been preitchitig' very
long" before William I'rocter found himself
lhoroii<^hl\' aroused, and that too in away
he, had not known since lie first entered
the Seminary.

The sermon was vitally pi'aetieal. It
was simply a eall to tin- (.'hristiau men
and women of Pyramid to do something' in
the matter of removino- the gambling' «a-
loons that filled Pyramid with crime and
tlisorder. There was nothing- old-fashioned
or formal or clerical in the ay ftandall
called attention to the need of a bettei-
town. lie ha<l made himself master of
the facts, and among thera was a list of the
older boys and young men who were fre-
quenter's of the g-ambling- dens. He did
n'0*t read the names, but he g-ave the num-
ber and plainly said that among tliem were
boys from some of the families sitting" in
the church th'at morniag. When he said
it, a wave of intense feeling" swept
throKg'^h the little church, and moi-e than
one father and mother bowed tlie head.

Thei-e were two sentences in the sermon
near the close, that smote on William
Procter's mind like a blow.

"Any man living- in Pyramid today who
havS anything" of Christianity in him, is a
coward, and is faithless to his Lord and
Afaster. Jesns. if he does not do all in his
power to help remove this g-ambling curse.
Xo ma,n has any right to say it is none of

thp: miracm", at MARKHAM

his business or shirk his own nesponsibil-
ity in this matter."

They were simple sentences, but they
rankled in William I'rocter's mind and
would not give him any rest.

He slipped out of the ehureh service he-
fore any one eould detain him, and went
to his little room in the boarding- house
near the mill. The sermon was not at all
what he had expected. He had imag"ined
he mig"ht hear some kind of a churchly
discourse on one of the Jewish sinners of
the Old Testament with two or three
moral lessons to be drawn from their evil
behavior. Hut this uncompromising' call
to Christian duty was unexpected. He had
enough of the old FMlg-rim blood in him to
be unable to remain quiet and saitisfied,
when such a call sounded in his ears. The
sense of duty was too keen and deep in
him to be easily turned aside or bid to keep
silent.

Wlrat had he done? It is true he had
conscientiously left the ministry because
he could not honestly preach in a pulpit.
"Rut had he also alxindoned all his Christian
faith, and cut loose from all responsibility
for the salvation of th«» world? What
business was It of his that g-ambling- dens
in Pyramid c\irsed the young" men of the
place? Could he leave his work in the mill
to fig'ht such an evil? Tt was a part of oil
mining- camps. Tt was an evil that could

THK MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

not be attacked without great personal
(latigper. What dkl Randall want to get en-
1 angled in any such tlianklesis reform bus-
iness for? Why couldn't he go on anil
j)reaeh in a general way ag'alnst sin, and let
this particular sin alone'.'

He had not been so stirred up over an^'-
thing since he had writteu that letter to
his father in the Seminiary.

When he entered the mill the next
morning, he was unable to shake off the.
burden of resjyonsibility which Randall's
sermon had laid upon him. In a spirit of
mingled anger and self-reproach, he went
about his duties in the mill. And the roar
and rattle and heat of the grim mixer, as
it entered the white hot furnace where the
ore was burning, and emerged agniin to
travel its circular track, Avas not able to
drown the voice of thai old religious con-
viction of personal responsibility for the
sin of others which now burned white hot
in <t.he soul of the assistant superintendent
of the Oolconda mill.

But there was more in that call of
Randall's to Thristian duty, than even
William Procter felt or knew. The ser-
mon that day w\tr a part of the whole ex-
perience through which the young Episco-
pal clergymani was moving. Events had
c^om-e on rapidly since he had invited Mr.
Hark, the Congregational minister, into
his pulpit, and the campaign he was now

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THK MIRACIvP: at MARKHAM

entering- for a cleaner mtmacipal life, was
only a part of the new ohiireh life he was
begfinning" to know.

Two short letters written by him at this
time reveal the inward passion of the man.
The first was to his father:

Dear Father— I have already told you of Mr.
Clark's preaching in the church here. I have
not told you of the result. One of my wardens,
one of the oldest men in the church, has had
several talks with me about that occurrence.
Of course, I violated the church canon, as you
have written me. I did so, knowing what it
mlg-ht mean. My people here, for the most
part, have not objected, seriously. My bishop
has written me inquiring into it, and I have re-
plied, giving him the whole truth about it.
Now, my warden, Mr. Cole, says that he can-
not overlook such a departure from the church
rules, and feels obliged to make complaint to
the bishop, who, in his reply to my letter,
simply warned me to be more careful and not
to offend again. But the nature of the mining
camp and the unconventional manner in which
a great deal of church work must be done, ac-
counts, in large part, for the bishop's leniency.
I do not have any fears of the final result. If a
trial should come, my only defense would be,
of course, a higher law than the church canon.
I cannot persuade myself that I have done any-
thing unchristian. I may have acted contrary
to the established canon of the Episcopal
Church, but I feel sure T am not acting con-
trary to the real spirit and desire of my only
Master, Christ.

I am at present In the midst of a campaign
against the gambling dens of Pyramid. If the
Christian people here all act together, we can
win. The main trouble is that some of the

THE MIRACT.R AT MARKHAM

prominent business men. the mine owners and
mill owners, especially Sewell, the owner of
the Golconda, are opposed to the move to out-
law the gamblers because of business complica-
tions. Sewell, himself, told me bluntly the
other day, that he considered the gambling
dens a part of any mining camp, and violently
expressed himself as opposed to touching them
or helping the movement for their destruction.
This sounds almost incredible, but you, your-
self, are familiar with business-men's argu-
ments that saloons and houses of vice are
necessary to the business interests of a town.

I have met William Procter, who is assistant
superintendent in Sewell's mill. He was at
church last Sunday. I wish I knew something
of his experience which led to his leaving the
seminary. He seems shy. and I shall not at-
tempt to presume on his acquaintance unless he
invites it.

Love to mother and yourself, and all the
Markham friends. Your son,

Francis.

This letter was written a week before
■news reached Pyramid of Dean Randall's
invitation to JoRn Procter. Hence, there
was no allusion to it in the son's letter to
thie Dean.

, The other letter &ent from Pyramid that
week, was addressed to Afiss Jane Procter.

.\fter the words, "Miss Jane Procter,"
came the words written nnderneaith:

Dear Jane— In your reply to my last letter,
you did not refuse to allow me to write again.
Of course, you know well enough T can never
write you but one kind of a letter. Tt would hp
simply clear hypocrisy for me to sit down and
write you descriptions of the mining camp of

■ ""PI

THE MIRACI,li AT MARKHAM

Pyramid, of the snow mountains in the range
beyond, or the milling machinery. How could I
write anything of that sort when there Is only
one great desire in my heart, and that is for
you, yourself. You must let me say again.
Jane, that if you do love me, as I sometimes
really believe you do, j'ou are wrong to live
your life apart from me, but It is no excuse for
you to give that you cannot marry a minister.
You could help me as no other woman in all
the world could do. Your familiarity with
church life, gained in the atmosphere of it at
your own home, has fitted you for all that I
have to do, for the two churches are not at all
unlike, when it comes to the real work which
needs to be done.

You cannot know, Jane, the hunger of my
heart for you, even if you do. i)erhaps, think I
am so stupid that I cannot take "No" for an
answer. But your answers, so far. have not
made any difference with my feelings. If I
were a young woman, Jane, 1 would not think
much of a young man who was my lover, who
was afraid to tell her several times that he
loved her, even if she did say once or twice that
she would not marry him. And you ought to
know by this time. Jane, that I love you dearly.
There is one great hope I have with me al-
ways, and that is you have never told me out-
right that you do not love me. As long as you
don't tell me that. I shall still go on telling you
what I have written here. Your lover,

Francis Randall.

When Jane had read this letter through,
she buried her face on it for just a mo-
ment, and when she lifted it agnin, her
cheeks were very red and there was a tear
on one of them. She took up the letter
and re-read it, then there was a tear

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

on the other cheek, and finally a smile.

"He certainly has the g-ift of persist-
once," she said. But she »aid it almost as
if she were very fflad of it. Then she sat
quietly g-oing* over all the past. The strug-
gle between her lover an<l her life-long
distaste for 'the minister's life, was be-
coming" an old strug-gle now, but it was by
no means settled.

"I cannot marry a -minister, I cannot, 1
canu' t," sihe repeated to herself. And yet
in the repetition of the old phrase she be-
g^n to feel that she was stifling' the
noblest feeling" in her. and perhaps refus-
ing" the best g"ift any true man ever has to
offer a true woman. Tf the ministry in
her thought of it, had presented very lit-
tle that was g"ran<l or g'lorious for a young
man and his wife, was Francis Rand'all's
ministry lacking" in heroic elements that
could attmct almost any woman? She
ha<l already learned to prize hi»s love. What
if in time .she should lose it? Besides —
But even when she had put this lasx letter
away with the others, she murmured "No,
I cannot." Tf Francis Bandall ha<l hear«,
her then, he mig'ht almost have lo<st the
hope he maintained. But he might have
reg^jnied it again if he had soeoi Jane a
moment later before she started off to
school, burv her face in her hands and
cry a little, no one being" near to note it.

The Sunday morning" in Markham that

t ;

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHARJ

lollowed the events of that week, which
had broug-ht these experienees to William
Procter and Jane had been eagerly amtici-
pated by the people of nearly all the
churches. It was the morning that John
Procter was to preach in Dean Randall's^
pulpit, amd it mnst be said that many of-
the members of the other churches desert-
ed their own services to go to the Episco-
pal Church.

A great m^any exciting rumors had agi-
tated the town of M-arldiam during the
week. It was said that the Bishop had
been to see Dean Ilan<lall about the matter
of his invitation to John Procter, and that
hig"h words had passed between them. It
was even Whispered, by some, that the two
men had lalmost come to blows. The
members of Grace Cathedral parisTi were
greatly excited over the event, but the
prominence of the Dean, his long* good
standing" in the community and a certain
unquestioned curiosity to see how matters
would come out, had prevented any out-
spoken opposition. It was true, however,
so it was rumored, that the Dean's unheard
of action would not piass unchalleng'ed by
the vestry.

Tn addition to all this, there was an im-
mense curiosity aroused by rumors of the
meeting held Friday night by the officers
of John Procter's church. It was siaid by
some that he Had advised his board of

THIC MIRACr.K AT M AKKHAM

')5

trustees to disband the Cauprrej'^tioiial
Church altogether, and unite with the Bap-
tists. Others said the meeting" Friday
nigfht had ended in a sharp quarrel be-
tween the pastor and his church officers,
and that he had immediately tendere<l his
resignation. It was definitely known be-
yond any question, that a meeting of the
entire congregation had been called for
the following Monday night, and that at
that time some very interesting and nn-
iisual affairs would be discussed. The
meeting, through the courtesy of the
Presbyterians, was to be held in their
church.

It was, therefore, with an unparalleled
interest that the service begtan that morn-
ing in Grace Cathedral. The building was
not large, and it was as crowded as if a
fashionable wedding were taking place in
it. People stood up during the eritire ser-
vice, the little vestibule was packed with
people looking over one another's shoul-
ders and standing on tip-toe trying to
look over, while nvany from the other
chnrches, who came a little late, were un-
able to find even standing room. Instead
of going to their own churches, most of
these people stood about the little yard in
front of Orace Cathedral, discussing the
events of the week.

It had been arranged between the Dean
and John Procter that the Dean should

THE MIRACI,E AT MARKUAM

couduct all of the service except the »er-
mon. When the Demi came to the desk, as
usual,andbegaiit)he service witli the words,
"The Lord is in His holy temple" — Joihu
Procter, seated jus't behind the Dean, un-
able to see his face, yet cangiht the truth
of its expression from the people in front
of him. IJesides, had not he aiid the Dean
just been kneeling- together in the little
room at the side of the cliancel? The event
smuill as it may seem when considered by
itself, wa« yet full of serious meaning to
both men. To say that it niiarketl an ep-
och in the lives of each would be staying too
little. It marked an epoch no less in the
lives of their churches, and no raian present
at that service could imagine what the end
might be.

The service pi-^oceeiled in the usual mam-
ner so far as the prayers, responses and
choir chants were concerned. But it ap-
proached the part of the sermon with a
very unusual feeling- on the part of the
congreg'ation. It is safe to say that when
John Procter at last i*>ose to preach, he had
for attentive hearers every one in the
church, and all of them brought to that
attentive hearing a sensitiveness of reli-
gious feeling which too often is wanting
in a listening congregation.

John Pi^eter's subject which he an-
nounced at once, was one that easily held
people's attention. It was. "What Would

THE MIRAChT? AT MARKRAM

**THE SERVICK FROCKEDEO IH TUE VSUAL
MANNER."

THE MIRACI.E AT MARKHAM

Jesus Uo if He "Were a Member of a Church
Today?"

The answer to this qu€istion revealeil to
every one present sonre very simple but
vital truths. It was John Procter's aim
to present a simple but true phase of
church membership, what it really meant.
He did no't go outside of Markham. The
application was direct, and largely left to
the people to make for themselves.

As he went on, the impression of the
simple truth deepened. Even th'e people
standing up in tlie vestibule farthest from
the speaker, felt the seriousness and truth
of the messisflfe. It is certain that nearly
every one present felt ihat his uinderstand-
iiig of church member.Ship had been en-
larged, and to many there, it was impos-
sible to go on with the old narrow defini-
tion in the futture.

People remained bowed even longer than
usual, ait the close of that service. It
seemed to the two minist€i*s as they went
in*to the little room by the chancel where
the Dean took oif his robe, that a baptism
like that of the Holy Ghost at Pentecost,
had fallen on the people.

CHAPTER VIII.

JOHN PROCTER'S J'UOPOSITXON.

^HAT was a beaiitiful message
you brought to us," said the
Dean as he faced John Proc-
ter in the little room.

John Procter looked at the
Dean thoughtfully.
"I \\Tas very anxious to give the people
something helpful."

"Y'ou did. It helped me." The Dean
spoke simply, but in a tone tluit moved
John Procter deeply.

"I do not nwed to say that this morn-
ing's experience has been, in many ways,
the most rem^arkable I have ever known in
my ministry, Dean Itandall. I am sure
you know very well how deeply 1 feel the
fellowship you have extended to me. Al-
though — " John Procter continued, with a
little hesitiation, "I do not know all it may
cost you."

"I have counted it," said the Dean,
gravely. Then he added — "You are pass-
ing through a new experience in your own
church. You are really not going to build
again?"

The Dean asked the question with a de-
gree of excusable curiosity.

"I shall advise mj' people not to build,
but unite with one of the other churches,"

I or)

THp; MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

replie<l John Procter, frankly. "When the
time conies, I want your advice and coun-
sel in the matter."

"Yoii shall have it, gladly," the De«n
replied. TThey were about to pass out of
the s,ide door, when John Procter said,
•'Neig-hVior, shall we have a prayer together
before w© go'T^'

It may seem altogether impossible, but it
was a fact that for several years Dean
Kandall had not prayed aloud lany pray-
ers except those printed in the Praj'er
Tk>ok. His case was, perhaps, exceptional.
But the fact must he r^^corded as it really
was. That morning, before the service, it
is true that, moved by a common impulse,
he had kneeled with John Procter for a
moment, but the prayer had been silent.

Now he knelt down again beside his
neighbor, and John Procter prayed very
simply but tenderly for a blessing on all
the churches in Markham that they might
more truly fulfill Christ's desire for tbem
that they might be one. When he u.id
JMiid am«n, there was a curious silence for
a moment before *he Dean ntterod a
word. Them he found his petition natur-
ally following that of John Procter. Is
there anything exeept the most christian
act in the praying of two of Christ's disci-
ples in the language that springs from the
heart's desire? And yet the Dean, to his
own astonishment, found the act so full of

THK .MIKACr.F, AT MAK.iCHAM

lOl

newness and even unusual habit, that 1j"
ex)uld not for days break away from the
thoug-ht of its unique place in his religious
experience. For it is simply u fact that
never before that day had he Joined with
a minister of anotlu'r denomination in a
eomimon prayer for a common blessing
npon the work of Christ in the town where
his work was being" cariied on. Ts it any
more than a thing to be expeeted that two
Ohristian men, disciples of the same Ijord,
should meet often to pray for his kingdom
on earth? T "/ true that the renrarkable
absent of such united petition is oi^e of
the causes of the w'cakncss of Jesus' disci-
ples in the earth two- thousand years nfter
His prayer that they might be one?

When ^fonday nig"ht eanie, the members
of the Congregational Church of ^rark-
ham, in resf>onse to the notice g-iven out
on Sunday, met in the Presbyterian
Church to discuss the subject of re-build-
in|f. ^ews of the remarkable proposi-
tion made a't the trustee meeting by the
paistor, had reached nearly every mem-
ber. The entii'e membership, with the
exception of a tew of the old and sick. %vas
present. Not since the organization of
the church in ^farkham had so much ex-
citement been known at a church meeting.
What the outcome of it would be, no one
could tell.

.Tolin Procter presided at tihe meeting,

mim

I02

THK M1UACI,K AT MARKHAM

as hi'S usual custom had been. The lirst
thing to be called for, was the report of
the trusitee meeting- Friday nig-ht.

The chairman of the board, Mr Eose,
g^ve, in brief, the result of tha't meeting'.

"We met," he said, "to discuss the sub-
ject of re-building. We talked over plans
and expense. There was some difference
of opinion on the part of the trustees and
church officers as to tihe kind of building
we ought to put up. Nearly all of us
agreed that It is an unusually hard time
just now, to raise money. But there w.s
no thought in the mind or speech of any of
us as to the necessity of building some
kind of a church, until our pastor war.
asked to give his advice. What he said
then was sio imexpected, and we were so
little prepared "to entertain his view, that
after a discussion which resulted in noth-
ing more satisfactory, it was voted by the
Board to lay the whole matter before the
entire church and have it discu-ssed by the
entire membership. The pastor's proposi-
tion is now known to you. T would, of
course, much prefer to have him explain to
the church what he said to u® Friday
night."

The chairman after a moment of hesi-
tatdon, siat down, and every one looked in-
tently at John Procter. For fifteen years
the members of the Congregational
Church of Markham had trusted and re-

THIi MIRACt,li AT MARKUAM

iOj

spected him, and while they were aston-
ished beyoud measure at what they had
heard of the meeting Friday niglit, they
were still ready to listen to their pastor in
explanation of his strange plian. They,
therefore, leaned lorvvard and in a very
grave silence waited for him to speak.

He rose and looked at his people thought-
f idly before he said anything. The occasion
marked a crisis for him and them.

"AVhat I said to the Board Friday night
was this: I do not think we ought to re-
build our church. Instead of doing that,
we can better work and worship with
some other church in Markham.

"1 do not expect such a proposition as
that, of course, to be accepted by the
church at once, or without very grave and
serious consideration. It is due to you
that I give my own reasons for advising
such a movement on our part.

"There are already twelve churches in
Markham, and twelve ministers. The
population of the town gives less tliaa two
hundred people to each church. Our own
membership is one hundred and twenty.
The Presbyterians here have a membership
of about the same. None of the other
churches in the town has over one hundred
members. Nearly every church in town is
burdened with a debt. None of them p.^.ys
over one thousand dollars salary to its
minister.

104

THK MIRACI<fc; AT MARKHAM

"BretJiren, those are the plain facts
about the ehua-ehes in Markhain, as 1 stat-
ed them to the Board Friday- night during-
our discussion. Now, will you let, me try
to show, in a concise way, what advan-
tages will be found for us and for the
town, by uniting with some one of the
other churches already organized in
Mark ham.

"I have put down here in writing, for the
.sake of exactness, 'a number of pouits
which contain, in brief, my own convic-
tions.

" 1. If we umte with some other church
instead of re-bullding and going on with
our own separate organization, we sliall
strengthen the church to which we go.
Let us take, just for the example, the
Presbyterian Church here. Suppose we
fciiould unite with them. They would feel
the addition of a working force and a
congregation. There would come at once
to preacher and people the inspiration of
numbers. The financial support of the
church work would also be materially in-
creased.

2. "There is nothing in the doctrin-al
creed of hardly any church in Markham
that would forbid a real union of our
church with them on a Christian basis.
There is nothing in the Presbyterian
Church here, for example, which is in any
wav essentiallv different from our own.

THE MIRACI<K AT MARKHAM

105

3. "The moral effect of our voluntary
union with another church would be very
great on our own community and more
than that on the Christian world. It is
well known to most of you that the most
serious obstacle to church life in Markham
is the multiplicatioji of church organiza-
tions. The business men are constantly
complaining that they are besought by
every church in town to give it support.
The complaint is well founded. It ought
not to be possible for them to make it. Jt
is almost a sta-nding sneer in, Markham
that if a stranger or a new family moves
into town and cannot find the particular
denominaition they jirefer, they can easily
start another. Our union with some other
church will do much towards removing
this sneer. The effect of it on the outside
world will be very helpful. Most of you
do not know, as I do, what a load the min-
ister and the church, too, have to carry
on accoun't of (this miniute splitting up in-
to fragments of the boily of Christ.

4. "!jrarkham would really be better off
in every way if its twelve churches were
reduced to six or even four. If we set the
example, it is impossible to say what some
of the other churches also may do in unit-
ing their divided forces.

5. "In spite of the number of churches
now in Markham, the moral life •f the
town is not growing, but decreasing. Our

io6

THU MIRACIJ-; AT AIARKHAM

union with another ohiirch will undoubted-
ly give us grealer powci" in the direction of
a moral force to better tliing-s. The whole
effect of such a union will, no doubt, be to
awaken a more Cliristian life in our own
membership and that of the church to
which we g-o.

6. "If our church uuites with some
other, I firmly believe it will be to the
great joy of Christ who is the head of the
Church. For two thousand years He has
been w^aiting for a final answer to His
prayer that His disciples might be one.
The sight of one church in Markham vol-
untarily and gladly uniting with another
for the purpose of strengtheming the
kingdom on earth will make joy in heaven.
If Jesus were here today it is my deep con-
viction that He would advise y,ou to do
just what lam urging now*.

7. "Our union with another church will,
without doubt, be followed by a great out-
pouring of the Holy Spirit. Of thiis, I have
not the slightest question. The movement
will be 5?o directly in keeping with the Di-
vine will, that a new baptism of spiritual
life will fall upon us all. It is long since
w^e had such a baptism of life. We need it
more than we need anything else.

8. "If we unite with another church, we
shall be directly in line with the spirit of
federation of churches which is moving
over Christendom today. Never before in

THE MIRACIvK AT MARKHAM T07

the history of the church was there such a
true longing on the paii; of the Christian
world to get together. The action of Dean
Kandall in opening his church to us yester-
day, is only one of the indications of many
that the old cunstoms and traditions of
sectarianism are vanishing. Never be-
fore did the great church conventions,
councils and state and naitional gather-
ings of all the denominations contain B(j
much written and spoken for the union of
Christ's disciples. We are actually at the
beginming of a mighty and irresistible
movement which nothing can prevent.
Whether we act or not to join our Chris-
tian life with that of another body, the
world movement for church union is al-
ready started by a Diviner and more vic-
torious power than we can comnrand or
oppose. But it will be a glorious thing for
us "to be in the current of that tide at the
start. It will be the best part of our his-
tory 'as a church to write this chapter in-
to OUT annals. Instead of being the death
of our church, it will really be the begin-
ning of the best life it has ever
felt."

When John. Procter finished reading
from his paper, the silence remained un-
broken. The members of the Congrega-
tional Church of ^farkham were no^t able
to say anything for a long time. Xothing
like this had ever happened before. No

^mm

108

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

such proposition had ever been put before
them. They were bewildered by it.
There were some of the older members,
however, who had followed the pastor's
reading- with sober and even angry oppo-
sition. One of these was the first to
break the silence,

"Mr. Procter," he said rising and speak-
ing in a tone that betrayed great excite-
n>ent and feeling — "You have noit told us in
all this astonishing plan of yours, what you
propose to do with the pastor of the
church: or what you propose the church
to do with him. If our church unites with
another, one of them will have to give up
its minister. If we were to unite with the
Pnesbyt'Criams, here, as you say, for ex-
ample, do you suppose their minister Avould
be willing to step out or his people be will-
ing to have his place tilled by another
man? There are too many practical busi-
ne?!s diflRcultiesin the way of such a union
as you propose."

The member sat down, and again the
church people all turned eagerly towards
John Procter.

"I have believed for a long time." he
said, after a moment, "that there were too
many churches in Markham. But T do not
believe there are too many ministers.
Brother Walker, how many men are there
employed in the bank where you are
now?'

THE MIRACl,K AT MARKHAM

109

"Four," replk'<l Mr. Walker, the mem-
ber who had just spoken.

"Yes. There is a cashier, a teJler, a
book keeper, and a janitor. Four men on
salarj' to do the necessary business of the
bank. 'J'liere Is not a g-roeery store in
Markham that does not employ at lea«t
one clerk to take orders and drive a deliv-
ery vvagoai. There is not a g-eneral mer-
chandise store that does not have at least
two or three paid helpers. Every depart-
ment of business in Markham has paid help
in proportion to the volume of Its business.
Now, as matters are at present, it is true
that there are twice as many church
bualdingfs and org-anizations as Markham
ne'edis. But it is not over-supplied with
Christian anen to do the necessary Chris-
tian work. What 1 mean is that if we
could reduce the number of churches in
^farkham to six. we would still have use
for twelve ministers. That would no't be
at all out of proportion to the need of
religious work to be done. Tf we should
unite with the r*resbyterians. there will
still be enough for both Brother Cameron
and myself to do. Xo minister with a
church mcmlK'rship of two hundred people
in a community like ours ever can do alone
all that ought to be done. 1 am of the
opinion that in time the churches will all
employ more men to do theiir work. No
other business is ever done in the world as

TIIK MIRACI.E AV MAKKHA\i

Ihe oliLirchcs do theirs. If the work of a
bank retiTiwe« four men, it g-en-erally Iwis
four men. But the ptwitor of a church is
generally supposed to take care of all it>s
buvsinefis alone, no matter how fast it
g'ro>vs or its needs increase. ThoiKiauds
of churche-s in the United States that bc-
g-an with less than one hmidre'd members,
have grown to have three or four hundred
members. But in very few cases have the
churches increased their paid workers with
the increase in numbers and responisibility.
They still continue to employ only one mam
and expect him to do the work in a church
of three or four hundred just the same as
he did when it was only one hun<lred. A
bank or a grocery store that tried to kee])
abreast of its increasing bxtsiness in that
way, would soon fall. One reason why a
f^^-'Od many churches are weak, is not be-
cause the minister is incapable, but be-
cause the church does not employ more
help. So, in case we should unite with the
Presbyterians, there will be found some
way to keep both of us ministers at work.
That is to say, there will be no- trouble
about having two ministers in the church
if only the church realizes the value of the
work to be done for this town."

Agfain, thei*e was ii long silence in the
room. If the pastor had not gone into the
details of the Avork that two ministers
might do in the one chuTch, he had, at

THIS MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

III

least, made it seem within the reach of
possibility that two men mig^ht with ad-
vant'ag"e be employed.

John Procter spoke agiaiu.

"I know, of course, that what 1 have
proposed is so strange to many of you that
you are not prepared to take any action on
it at this meeting*. But strange and un-
usual and even impossible as it may seem
to you 4it first, 1 stiU hope you ^vill take
time to consider it."

"We certainly cannot act on this at
once," said one of the deacons, an elderly
man who had been a member of the Con-
gregational Church of Markham for over
forty years

He was going on to express his opinion
as to the wisdom of such a remarkable
moveonent, and several others were evi-
dently now ready to say something, when
some one down near the door came for-
word with a telegram for John Proc-
ter.

It was marked, "great haste." "The
boy is at 'the door and will take your an-
swer," said the man who had come up to
the pulpit with the message.

The deaeon paused a moment until the
interruption at the platform was over.

John Procter opened the envelope and
read the message. It was from Pyramid,
nnd dated late that evening. It read as fol-
1('A\ s:

: *
i

112

THK MIRACI^K AT MAKKHAM

Rev. John Procter, Markham, O. :

William has met with very serious accident
In mill. Come on at once. Francis Randall.

Jolhn Procter read this over twice before
he roali/ed what it meant, as people g-en-
erally read serious telegrams.

He rose, pale, but selt-powsessed, aiwl told
his people what the news was.

"I shall have time to leave for the West
on the midiiigbt express," he said. As he
passed down through the aisle of the
church to hurry home with the news,
more than one hand was thrust out to ex-
press sympathy.

It had all happened bo unexpectedly,
th'ii't the cong-reg-atlon remained in a con-
dition of uncertainty when the door closed
on their pastor.

The deacon spoke. He had been one of
the first to say Godspeed to John Procter
as he started down the aisle.

"We can't s/ettle this question of church
building- tonig'ht. We need to think it
over, carefully. 1 move that we spend the
rest Off ithe time in prayer for the pastor
and his family."

The deacon's motion was carried, and
the church, s't.irred by a sympathy which
was the outcome of genuine affection for
their pastor, offered manj' earnest pray-
ers for him and all those who were dear to
him. It is not at all impossible that the
accident to Williaim Procter, and the pray-

THK MIRACI.I". AT MARK HA \f

•'HE AROSE, VAS,E, BUT SEttf POSS,ESSEU."

J 14

THR MIRACI,B AT MARKHAM

era in his behalf, had a good deal to do
with the final result of affairs in Markhani,
Ko far as the Cougrog-at'onal Church wan
ponceru'ed. There are no accidents in the
plans of God.

CHAPTRR IX.
AT WORK IN THK MILL.

INCE the sermon of Fran-
cis Kandall on the
responsibility of the
Christian men of Pyra-
mid for the closing- of
the paniblingf saloons
of the camp, William
Procter had not at-
tended service in any
church. He had not yet settled the ques-
tion of his own responsibilitj' in the nvait-
ter. He kept saying- to himself that he
had not come out to Pyramid to do the
work of a missionary or a reformer. At
the same time, he knew well enoug"h that
he was like hundreds of other men, who,
when they move west, or east, find it easy
to shirk reli^ous duties because they
think people do not know them, and the
opportunity is a g-ood one to take a holi-
day from all Christian work. Very often
this holiday lasts the rest of a man's life.

William Procter was not «atisfied with
the situation, howev(>r. He went to his
mill duties every morning' discontented
and restless, half ang-ry at Randall, and
miserable g-enerally because of his per-
fiomal experience which had driven him in-
to a life of physical toil for which he was.

'■"<p

ii6

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

by nature and tniining-, pooi-ly educated.
At present, niot recast annong the troubles
which assailed him, was his memory of
those days in Andover w'heii the w'oraan
he loved had broken with him because of
her disuippointment at his refusal to con-
tinue in a profession which his conscience
would not aillow him to enter. Witlh bit-
terness of spirit he fought aga-inst 'the feel-
ing which he still had for her. He had
tried to forget, but his efforts had been
useless. Memory was stronger and more
tenacious than oblivion.

So he went about among the strange
pieces of machinery in the (Jolconda mill,
tthinking over all these things, and a
strange mixture of human passions and
struggles in the midst of wierd and clash-
ing monisters of iron and s.teel and poison-
ous vats and tanks of chemicals. There
was a twelve-inc'h board across the top of
Oi.e of the large cyanide vats over which
the men in the mill often Avalked to reach
another part of the building, ilt saved a
journey around by way of a pair of steps
ond a ladder, and the men were in the
habit of crossing by means of this plank,
although they knew well enough that a
slip and a plu.ge into the poisonous fluid
would mean death. They had become sio
used to lit that in their rough way they
often calcuilateid on the length of time a
man might survive if he fell into the vat,

THK MIRACT.K AT MARKHAM

117

even supiWRin^" he was a f^ood svvimm^'r
and help was not far off.

Onice on that clay, on the evening- of
whicli liis father had reeeivecl the tele-
gram, William Procter, as he crossed
this narrow plank, had a curious feeling
Ihat an easy accident would put an end
to all his mental troubles. There was
only a. twelve-inch plank between death
and life. He had this thought come to him
when just over the middle of the tank. In
an instant it flashed into him with all the
force of his inlherited Pilgrim steadiness
of moral character that what he was en-
tertainiing' was nothing" short of suicide.
Many a man has committed it for less rea-
son tham William Procter couild give. He
suddenly ran across the plank, tremblinj-,
and when once on the other side he was
seized with a faintnesK that compelled
him to sit down at the fw^t of the vat.
He did not cross the board again that day.

AH this was in the morning". He had
come into the mill at 10 o'clock. His
duties kept him continuously at work until
7 o'clock in the eveniing*, when a new
shift caime on. The mill was running" night
and day to fill orders, and everything in it,
including the men, was taxed to its fuiUes't
capacity.

It was betwee^n 6 and 7 o'clock that Wil-
liam was called into the furnace room to
help one of the men there who was en-

ii8

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

ffag'ed in repairing- a part of the track on
^\'(hicll the two mixers contiinually trav-.
eled on their circiilar way. The work of
the mill was too Aahrable to be stoppe<l,
so the repairing" weoit on while the red-hot
mixer plung-eid iiiito its fiery bath with a
clanging" of me'tal doors which closed be-
hind it to protect the fires amd emerg'ed
ag-ain with the same crash of iron on iron
when the carriage, white hot from its in-
visible and lawful .iourney throug-h the
blafit, broke out of its prison and fiung- it-
self around the circle of steel rails wither-
ing* everj^thing' with its intense heat and
ais evening" came on, filling" the narrow
room with a lig"hit that g"lowed r-emorse-
lessly from its blades and arms. Often, to
William, standing" fascinaited in the pres-
ence of this .«?trang'e metal monsiter, press-
ing" back against the walls of the niill to
keep from being hit by it, it seemed that
the thing wais alive anid conscious, nnd
waiting only its time to fling itself off the
track that held ft, upon a man, and strike
Jiim down with its miirderous white hot
fists, and kill him for pleasure.

He crawled under the track where the
other nuan was trying to screw a bolt into
a part of the iron foundation on which the
track reis't'^d. Wlien the mixer passed over
them, it seemed to William Procter as if
the heat would suffocate him. He won-
dered at the stolid endurance of the fur-

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKHAM

119

mace men who moved about in the unnat-
ural heat and worked in such places as this
lor hours.

The two men worked hard, panting with
the heat and scorched, now and then, wdth
the fine particles of ore dust which fell
from the mixers, as they crossed the track
in turn above them. But after working"
several minutes they were not able to screw
the bolt into its place.

"You will have to gfo into the tool house
and get the large wrenches," William said
to his compainion. He could have gone
liimself, but for the moment he felt some
compassion on the mian who had been at
work longer tlian usual in his cramped i>o-
Bition.

The man crawled out from under the
track, and William was left alone. He
waited until the heat became so unbear-
able that he finally' crept out and went
over at the Siide of the furnace room to
wait for the man to come back.

It is not very clear how it h{iip])ened, for
no one was in the furnace rooni on that
side, at the time. It seemed probable
from William's own disconnected account
afterwards, that he had started to g"0 from
1he place where he first stood to one of the
doors. He was probably absent-minded,
thinking" over hii:, troubles, going over his
old stmggle as to his personal responsi-
bility.

I20

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

However that may be, in the dusk, lighted
by the glow of the two mixers as they al-
teriDately burst from the fuirnace, a ter-
rible thing h«.ppened.

The machine at last had met its op-
poritunity. One of the long metal arms
above the stirring blades, caroht the sleeve
of William's blouse aa he walked along.

He came to himself in an instant, and,
realizing his great danger, he reached out
his other hand to loosen his sleeve. It
was burning, but the long, pointed piece
of metal had been thrust through the tough
cloth and he was unable to pull his arm
loose at once. He could feel the red-hot
iron burning into the flesh, but he still
kept his self-possession, as he walked along
by the machine and strained with all his
might. He probably would have suc-
ceeded in breaking away, but just then
his foot struck the tool which the man had
dropped on the floor when he went out.

He stumbled and fell forward. In doing
so he tore his arm away from the mixer,
but fell behind it full upon the circular
track, striking his head upon the after part
of the mixer as he fell.

He was now in the path of the other
mixer, which had just entered the furnace.
The time between the two mixers was
about twenty-five seconds. The furnace-
room was still empty. The workman had
not returned. And there lay the form of a

:$4

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKITAM

121

man, insensible, already badly burned, full
across the track.

The second machine rumbled out of the
furnace and rolled down, prim and terrible
toward its victim. It almost seemed as if
the monster thought. Still the room was
empty, except for that quiet form, lyinj?
there across the track. One hand feebly
moved. The head stirred a little. A
breath of the cool evening: from the hills
blew into the open door and even gained a
little into the blast of the heat over the
track. In a few seconds the man will be
conscious again.

But William Proctor still lay there, and
the mixer almost upon him, when a man
stepped through the open door and looked
into the mill.

In the triumphant ^low of the advanc-
ing machine he saw the form of the man
on the track. With a cry he leaped up
astride the track, lifted up the body and
leaped down again with it. As he did so,
one of the mixing blades swept its red-hot
side against his hand, burning the whole
back of it to a blister.

But without noticing that, he staggered
with his burden to the open door, and laid
the form down quietly, resting the head
upon the door sill.

Then the cried aloud for help. Men
came running across the yard and through
the furnace room.

122

THK MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

The man who lisul saved William's life
looked up as he kneeled by the side of the
still imeonseious body.

"Bring- some water! Run for the com-
pany's doctor, someone! He is in the as-
sayer's office. 1 .just left him there as I
came by!"

Two men ran in obedience to these orders
g-iven sharply, but quietly.

When the Doctor came, William was Just
regaining- his senses. The first face he saw
was Francis Randall's.

"W^hat's the matter?" he asked feebly.

"You're hurt a little, but the doctor's
here. We are going to take you home,"
said Randall, gently.

William fainted again. The men impro-
vised a rude stretcher and carried him over
to his boarding- place, the doctor going
along- with Randall.

"Is he badly hurt, doctor?" asked Ran-
dall, as he walked along- in the dusk, be-
hind the little procession. As he walked,
he silently wrapped his handkerchief about
liis hand.

"His right arm is burned to the bone.
That burn on his face is a deep one. He
must have fallen full force upon the mixer.
Hid yovi see the accident? How did it hap-
pen?'

"I found him lying unconscious across
the track," answered Randall.

'Did you?" asked the doctor, peerin/jf

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKHAM 12T,

'THEN UK CRIKI) ALOX'U VOU HELP."

124

THE MI RACINE AT MARKHAM

curiously at llandall throug-h tlie (lusk.

"Yes," replied Randall. The doetor
waited to hear more, but Randall was
silent.

"Yon must have carried him from the
track to the door?' asked the doctor, after
a pause.

"Yes. He is not very heav3'," replied Ran-
dall.

"Humph!" grunted the doctor. But ho
was used to accidents of all sorts and asked
no more questions.

The doctor was busy with William for
over an hour. Francis Randall stayed in the
little room, to be of help, if it was needed.
Once he went out and asked the woman
who kept the house to give him some flour
to put on his hand. When he came back
the doctor noticed the bandage for the first
time.

"You're hurt, yourself, ^fr. Randall?"

"A little; 1 burned my hand."

"Let me see ft," cried the doctor a little
roughly.

Randall hesitated at first, and then smil-
ing- a little, uncovered the wound.

The doctor looked at the wound and
then at the clergyman, but said nothing.
Randall re])laced the covering.

"How is he?" ho asked, looking toward
the still unconscious form on the bed.

"To tell the truth, he is in bad shape.
If he has any relatives or friends who

THK MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

125

oug-ht to be sent for, the quicker the bet-
ter."

"1 know his people," said Uandall, sadly.
"I'll telegraph if yoii say so."

"Vou'd better. I think the chances are
jigainst him. He is badly hurt in the head.
If he were my boy, 1 should want to see
him as soon as possible."

So that is liow it canie about that Fran-
cis Kandall tore down the hill to the rail-
road station, and the message was sent fly-
ing: over the states to Uev. John Proctot,
of Markham.

He hurried home from that eventful
meeting" of his church and broke the news
to his wife and Jane.

Mrs. l*roctor looked at her husband and
instantly said:

"We will both go to him."

Jane cried to go also, but even in the ex-
citement being- nuide by her lather and
mother, she finally agreed with them that
it would not be best. Her mother could do
all that was necessary. It would only add
to the expense if Jane went and it could
not help William any.

She quietly helped her mother to i)repare
for the journey. As they were packing- a
valise, Mrs. Procter suddenly asked her hus-
band:

"How did it happen that Francis Kandall
sent the telegram?"

"J don't know any more about it than

J 26

THK MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

you <1(>. It was signed by him. That is
all I know."

"It is strnnf»p Mrs. Randall showed me
one of his last letters from Pyramid, in
which lie wrote of meeting William, but
said that Will was shy and he would not.
intrude on him So I had supposed the two*
seldom met."

*'We shall learn all about it when we get
there. The Lord spare onr son "

John Proetor nearly broke down. When
,Tane finally kissed them good-by, she
bravely kept up courage and cheered the
father and mother with words of hope,
but when they had gone she turned back
into the parsonage and cried hard. The
telegram had been left on the table She
took it lip and read it again. Some how,
the sight of Francis Kandall's name at the
end of the solemn message comforted her.
William was already with a friend. That
w'as worth something to her, as she pic-
tured the father and mother speeding west.

During the days that followed, Jane suf-
fered more than the others from the sus-
pense and anxiety. There had come a tel-
egram, announcing their arrival and the
fact that William was yet alive. But then
followed a waiting of several days. A pos-
tal card from her father, written each day,
simply announced that William was living,
but no change yet. Then, at last, came a
letter from her mother, the reading of

'riir: MIRACMC AT MARKHAM

1-7

which l)rouglit the color into .lar.c's face,
anil made her heart beat with a variety of
emotions. Along- with the letter were two
copies of the Pyramid daily paper, marked.

Jane read both the letter and the marked
article in the paper one evening- after sup-
l)er. A friend of hers, one of the other
teachers, had been staying- with her and
was present in the room. After reading
the letter, Jane asked her friend if she
would like to hear the news from Pyra-
mid.

"Yes, by all means."

"My voice may tremble a little," said
Jane, who was nnusually excited, "but
you will excuse it, when you hear what
mother has written."

Pyramid, Col.

Dear Jane— I write with a Rlad heart today.
Will Js out of danger. The crisis in his favor
was reached and passed last night. The Lord
has given me strength far beyond my expecta-
tion, and while I have lost a great deal of
sleep, I am well and happy. The dear boy is
terribly worn by his illness, but this morning
he knew your father and me, and sent his love
to you.

I cannot tell you what a wonderful help
PYancis Randall has been to us diinng all this
experience. We did not learn until we had been
here a week, how much we owed to him for
saving Will's life. I have not yet been inside of
one of the reduction ore mills, but your father
who visited the one where Will was hurt, gave
me a very graphic picture of it.
There is an immense furnace where the crush-
ed ore, as tine as flour, is roasted. While it is

X38

THK MIRACMC AT MARKHAM

being roasted, two great machines with piows,
or stirrers, enter the ftirnaop and stir the ore
to bring it all evenly in contact with the Are
and the air. These machines travel on a cir-
cular track, and enter and leave the furnace
at equal distances.

It seems that Will, in some way. (he is not
clear about it. himself) stumbled and fell over
this circular tracR. and was burned, terribly,
In doing so. In i ailing, he struck his head on
the machine, and lay across the track uncon-
scious. The other machine had come, white
hot, out of the furnace, and was almost upon
him, when Francis Randall, who happened to
be going by the mill that evening, on his way
from the company doctor's, saw the body on
the track, jumped up in front of the mixer, and
lifted Will down, so saving his life, for If he
had been struck by the monstrous machine, it
would have burned him to death.

Francis Randall did not tell us all this in this
way, but we found out that what he did was
even more heroic than I know how to tell it.
H© received a dreadful bum on his right hand.
The whole back of it was burned to a crisp.
The doctor says he will always carry a great
scar. It will be a very honorable one. and we,
certainly, as a family, will always take him
by that hand with a peculiar feeling of respect
and esteem.

Here Jane's voice faltered, and hi*r friend
looked at her a Tittle inquisitively She did
not know about Jane's romam e, but she
knew that Jane was not indifferent to the
young" Episcopalian clergyman.

After a moment. Jane went on ag^ain and
finished the letter with a calm voice.

I send you two copies of the Pyramid Miner,
containing an account of Will's accident, and

THK MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

129

Mr. Randall's work here, logelher with a
sketch of his herohm. It i^ written In a some-
what wlhl Western stylo, full of adjectives and
mining camp expressions, your father says,
but I am sure the article does not at all exag-
Kerate the modest heroism of the act which
saved your brother's life.

Your father will start for home tomorrow, as
the affairs of the church, just now, are so
critical as to call for his personal attention. I
shall stay and nurse Will as long as it is neces-
sary. Mr. and Mrs. Clark, of the Congrega-
tional Church, have been very kind to us, as
well as many of their people. Perhaps Will will
return with me. He is not able, yet, to talk of
the future. Much love to ynu from

Mother.

Jane put the letter back into the enve-
lope and picked up a copy of the Pyramid
paper.

chaptp:r X.

THE MESSAGE OF "THE PYRAMID MINER."

HE article on Randall
was over a column
long-. Jane read it
with a feeling- of satis-
faction that she could
not conceal from her
friend. The article
containing- the account
of William's accident
was dated the day
after, and contained the following- senten^
ces. After g-iving- an extended account of
the terrible nature of the accident and its
serious results, the article went on:

"Mr. Procter was formerly a Theological
student in one of the Eastern Seminaries.
He g-ave up the study for the ministry
on account of theolog-ical opinions. There
was also a romance of some sort connected
with his experience that drove him out of
the ranks of 51 profession into the business
of mill superintendent. The father of Mr.
Proctor, Rev. John Proctor, of Markham,
Ohio, has been teleg-raphed for and will
probably be liere this week. The accident
is of a serious nature, and may result fa-
tally. At present the patient is still un-
conscious."
That nig-ht, when she went to her room,

THR MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

.Tjine read her niollier's letter and the nevvs-
l)aper article ag-ain. Her checks flushed
and her eyes j^rew dim as she pictured the
scene of the mill. She felt proud that the
man who loved her was a hero

"I never thought that a minister could
be a hero," said Jane, thoughtfully. "I could
almost "

She did not Say what she "could almost,"
but if Francis Kandall could have pleaded
his suit at that moment it mipfht have leen
possible that Jane would have ])ut her hand
into his scarred one and g-ivcn him her
heart with a tearful ])rJde in him.

Then she beg-an to think of her brother
and the article in the paper relating- to the
accident and speaking of his Andover ex-
perience. Kow any newspaper man ever
found out anything aboiit William Proc-
tor's private romance back there was a
startling mystery to Jane, but some how
it had become known and Jane was sud-
denly impelled to do a thing wit^) the news-
paper which she might well haxc hesitated
to do if she could have foreseen all the
immediate consequences of it.

She had secured from her brother, be-
fore he went out to Pyramid tin- n..ime of
the Andover young woman whose picture
had so agitated William while he was pack-
ing his trunk. Jane, iu a moment of al-
most anger at this young woman, who had
helped to spoil her brother's life, decided to

132

THE MIRACI^li AT MARKHAM

send her the copy of the paper containing'
the vivid account of William's accident.

She was not as sincere and honest as Jane
Proctor usually was in the habit of being-,
for she sent no word of William's recovery.
But there was a feeling within her which
said in quite a hard spirit:

"Let her suffer a little if she cares any
for him. I'm sure she has hurt him deeply
enough."

So there went out of the Markham Post-
office the next morning a copy of the
"Pyramid Miner," addressed to "Miss Ke-
becca Phillips, Andover, Mass.," with a cer-
tain article marked at the bottom witli
Jane's initials.

The evening of the day after Jane had
sent this Pyramid paper, Prof. Elias Phil-
lips, of Andover Theological Seminary, was
sitting in his study working over some
manuscript notes on his new book,
which was an exhaustive analysis of the
characteristics of the minor prophets. The
evening mail had Just been brought to the
house by one of the Academy boys, and
Miss Rebecca had just come in to the study
and laid some 'iCtters down on the Pro-
fessor's desk.

"Is that all?" asked the Professor a Iit<
tie absently, as he glanced over the letters
without opening any of them.

"Yes, except a paper for me," answere(/
his daughter.

THK MIRACU': AT MARKHAM

133

She took the paper and went with it into
the sitting-room. The study door was left
a little ajar.

The Professor was so much interested in
his notes on the minor prophets that he
let his letters lie unopened on his desk. A
few minutes went by silently'. Everything
in the old mansion seemed very peaceful.
The servants had finished their work and
lund jp-one to their rooms. It was so quiet
thi! ihe Professor's ])en (as usual, not a
very good one), scratched noisily over his
paper. He was making good progress with
the work. If lie could have an uninter-
rupted hour or two every day during the
coming winter he might hope to complete
the book inside of three or four years. The
Professor of Old Testament Literature was
very methodical, and not a man to be hur-
ried into print without having made very
thorough ])r.»pnratioiK

Suddenlv th« scholastic quiet of the Pro-
fessor's surror.ndinm's was broken by a
loud cr\ i)? Ui^ other room. He started,
and sat up str.jrrh* in his chair. The next
moment he stn iy door opened hastily and
his daughter came in.

She was very pale and unusually excited.
Tt was not a weakness of the Phillips' fam-
ily to become excited over anything.

"Fai^'^r, read that!" exclaimed Rebecca,
holdin- ait tlie "Pyramid Miner," and
pointin.'i •■ tin article which Jane had

134

TMK MIRACl.li AT MARKHAM

marked so heavily tliat it looked as if
bounded by mourning-.

The l^rofessor took up the paper, but he
did not look at the article.

"What is the matter, my dear? You are
very much agitated."

"Will you read the paper?'' asked Miss
Eebecca, almost angrily. It was true that
she was very much moved.

The Professor turn i to the article and
read it, without a woi i ook to betray

any emotion

"Well?" he said, looking up toward Ke-
})ecea.

"Don't you imderstand, father?" Rebecca
came closer to him and laid a hand on his
shoulder. Then she suddenly kneeled down
by his chair and laid her proud head on her
father's arm.

"It is William who is hurt; perhaps he is
dead."

The Professor understood now. The
minor prophets were of minor importance
to him for the moment by the side of his
daughter's experience.

"O! William Procter! Ah! I see! Yes!
I did not realize what it might mean to
you! Rebecca — " he put his hand on her
head, and remembered, as he did so, that this
proud young woman, the only daughter,
had lost a mother's coimsel when she was
a little girl. "Rebecca, is it true; do you —
tell me frankly, my dear, do j'ou still care

THE MIRACm AT ^lARKHAM

135

for William Procter?" he asked, g-ently.

"Yes." The answer came in a very low
voice, but there was no mistaking its mean-
ing.

"And yet you decided that — that — you
could not share your life "

"Father," sai(I Rebecca, passionately, ris-
ing and putting both hands on his should-
ers, "I did not know how much — but you
must telegraph to Pyramid and find out — "

"But this paper is dated nearly three
weeks back," said the Professcr. "If he
were fatally injured, surely we would know
it by this time."

"Let me see!" cried Rebecca, and when
she saw the date her heart leaped up with
hope.

"Still, father, we do not know for cer-
tain. Won't you go down and send a mes-
sage?"

"Yes, of course, I will." The Professor
arose, looking a little sorrowfully at his
notes on the desk.

"Of course it would be better for you to
send it?" said Miss Rebecca, looking a little
hesitatingly at the Professor as he went
out into the hail and took down his hat.

The Professor did not reply, but he put
on his hat and opened the door. Some-
thing in his daughter's face, as she stood,
looking at him, moved him to shut the
door again, and come back to her.

"Rebecca," he said, as he bent his gray

13^^

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

head and kissed (and it was a long time
since lie had done so), "your father is not
considered an authority in any thing: ex-
cept the Old Testament writers, but if you
love William Procter—"

He looked into his danpfhter's face and
did not need to comi)letc his sentence. She
answered his look with one he thought he
understood, aiul after his unusual caress
he went out.

When he was gone, Rebecca Phillips sat
down in her father's chair, and, the truth
must be told, that several tears from eyes
that nearly all Ardover people called proud,
fell upon the manuscript relating to the
minor prophets.

Professor Phillips went as fast as he
could walk to the telegraph station and
sent off two telegrams.

The first was to the "Pev. .Tohn Procter,
Markham."

Jane opened this telegram when it came
with some misgiving at heart.

She felt some twinges of conscience as
she read it:

Send word if William Procter is recovering.
Haste. My expense. "Rllas Phillips,

Andover. Mass.

At first Jane had a moment of irresolu-
tion, almost as if she did not mean to an-
swer the Professor's telegram. P>ut she
stepped into tlie telegraph office on her
way to school the next morning and sent

THK MIRACI.K AT MARK HAM 1 37

'rkbkcca phillips sat down in her kath-
kk's chair."

i5«

THK MIRACI,1C AT MARK HAM

the following-, dirocting it not to Professor
Phillips, but to Kebecca:

"William out of danger. Very ill. Mother
is with him."

Jane Procter did not know Miss Rebecca
Phillips at all, but she had a hope that the
last lour words might cause her some re-
morse or heartache, or something that
would result in William's favor. It was
not until long after that she knew anything
of the result of that telegram.

The other message, sent by the Professor
was to Pyramid.

lie hesitated for a little before directing
the address, tmt finally sent it to "Rev.
Francis Randall, Pyramid, Colorado."

"Randall must know about it, of course.
And he is sure to answer."

The Dean and the Professor were old
friends. Indeed, it was through the Pro-
fessor that Francis had first heard of Wil-
liam at Pyramid.

An answer to this telegram came
promptly:

Prof. Elias Phillips, Andover, Mass.:

William out of danger. May lose sight of one
eye. Francis Randall.

The Professor said nothing when he
handed this to Rebecca. But it is a part of
the record of the Lincoln School, where
Miss Rebecca taiight that on that particular
morning the school teacher in the Fourth P>
room seemed very much interested in some-

TUK MIRACIvK AT MARKHAM

^39

tiling- that had nothing to do with the les-
sons; that she had red eyes, as if she hatl
been erying* and that she seemed very glad
when school was finally dismissed.

Out at Pyramid the coming of that in-
quiry from Andover had a peculiar effect
on the invalid, lying weak and dependent
in the little bedroom of the stulfy board-
ing house near the mill.

Itandall brought the telegram, and with-
out a word, handed it to William.

Andover, Mass.
Is William Procter seriously injured? Tele-
graph at once My charges. Elias Phillips.

JJandall knew nothing whatever of Wil-
liam's romance. As the invalid raised his
eyes from the telegram, the clergyman said
innocently:

"Very kind of your old seminary Profes-
sor to telegraph. It's a little strange he is
so late about it. Two weeks now since you
were hurt."

"Is it?" asked William. He re-read the
message, and his imagination began to fill
in the cold spaces between the words of the
telegram. Would the Professor have taken
even this late interest in him? If so, was
it not possible

He was too weak to carry on his thought,
and when the doctor called, he found his
patient had a high fever.

"What have you been doing to him?" he
growled testily at Francis Eandall who

140

TUK MIKACIyK AT MARKHAM

had just risen to «»o as the doctor cauie in.

"Nothing". He had a telegram this morn-
ing. Or, rather, 1 had one inquiring about
liim."

"Let me see it," said tlie doctor, abruptly.

"Umph! Telegraph back that he will get
well if folks will leave him alone," said the
doctor, who was in ill humor that morning.

But William rallied i^^ the afternoon and
steadily grew stronj^^ r. The more he
thought of the telegram the more hopeful
he became that llebecca «tiil did care for
him. When his fatlier had gone back to
Markham and his mother was alone with
him, he confided his secret to her, and she
comforted him as only a mother can.

When the Rev. .John I'rocter reached
Markham, after an absence of two weeks,
he entered at once upon an unusual exper-
ience. Kven during the anxious moments
he had spent by his son's bedside, the
thoughts of his church in Markham had
been with him. That it was at a great
crisis in its history he kuew \evy well.
How the matter would tinany be settled he
was unable to declare with any certainty.
W'ould a majority of his members vote to
unite with the I'resbyterians or some other
body? If they did, would the minority
])roceed to form anothei' clinrch. and so
make matters as bad as they were before?
How would the other churches take such
a union? \Vould it make them more jealous

THK MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

141

than ever because such a union would make
the largest, strongest church in Markham?

He was not able to answer these ques-
tions. ^Nevertheless, he was fully com-
mitted in his own mind to the princiiile of
union, as he had outlined it to his people.

He reached home on Saturday and
learned that a meeting of the church had
been called for the following Monday in an-
ticipation of his return.

When Sunday came, for the tirst time in
nearly fifteen years he found that he was
not engaged anywhere to preach. His ab-
sence in Pyramid had been of such a char-
acter that the other ministers in Markham
could not very well make future appoint-
Tnerits with him, althong-h several of them
had expressed the hearty wish that he
preach in their churches until his own was
rebuilt. He hjid returned hurriedly and
very many of the people, even in his owa
parish, did not know that he was back.

John Procter hesitated a little when the
hour for service came that morning, and
finally decided to go and hear Harris, the
Baptist minister. He had often heard him
spoken of as narrow and exceedingly bigot-
ed in certain ways, and he thought he
would go and hear for himself.

"Brother Harris happily disappointed me
once; perhaps he will again," said John
Procter, as Jane and he went along to-
gether.

142

THE MIKACI.1". AT MARKIIAM

As they went into the church, they no-
ti(;etl antl spoke to several of their own
church people and friends. When they
were seated they could not help noticing?
a very large number of the Cong-regational
people scattered through the house.

"Why, father!" whispered Jane, after a
moment, as people were still coming" in.
"It is communion Sunday here! See the
table?"

They were seated only three or four pews
from the front on the side aisle. John
I'rocter had noticed the communion table
when he sat down. Jane's whisper simply
emphasized a curiously exciting emotion
he now began to feel at the sight of the fa-
miliar emblems on the table.

"Will Brother Harris ask us to partake
of the Lord's Supper?"

The question came into John Procter's
mind with all the force of a most serious
and important event. The Baptist minister
had always been very close communion.
Could he make a possible exception?

The pulpit was still empty. The Kev.
Charles Harris had not yet come out of
the room back of the platform. The church
was nearly full, and the organist was still
playing the prelude. John Procter, with
a feeling of growing expectancy, sat there
with his eyes on the door which led from the
pastor's study to his pulpit.

CHAPTER XI.

"ACCORDINtt TO THE MAvSTER'S COMMANDS.'*

HI*^ Kov Charles Harris at last
opened the door back of the
pulpit platform and cauie
cut. As he took his seat it
is uncertain if he was con-
scions at first of John Proc-
ter's presence. After a moment, however,
he lifted his head and looked over the con-
jrregation. As his eye rested ou that part
of the church where John Procter and ,Jaue
were seated, he made a movement as if he
intended to ^o down and speak to him. He
had half risen from his seat, but seemed
to change his mind, for he sat down again
and when he finally did rise n was to open
the regular service of the church.

It was the custom in the First Baptist
Church of Markham to have a regular
preaching service before the communion.
The pastor then came down from the pul-
pit and stood behind the table. If there
were any baptisms they took place im-
mediately after the sermon. The pastor
then stepped back into his room to change
from his baptismal dress and came out into
the church room through the side door,
which opened at the end of one of the side
aisles.

There were several baptisms on this

144

THK MIRACIyE AT MARKHAM

special day in the religious history of Mark-
ham, a day that no one present there ever
forg-ot. Charles Harris ^\ent on with the
service up to the [)oint oi' the sermon, with
a noticeable embarrassment of manner.
The sermon itself was not remarkable in
any way. John Procter, himself something
of a scholar, and as he was willing to con-
fess, somewhat inclined tr» be proud of that
fact, caught himself several times on the
point of criticising sentences and expres-
sions that would not bear the test of rhe-
torical rnles. As often as he found himself
doing this, he rebuked the spirit that
prompted it. The sermon was not without
excellent thought There was a sincerity
about it that went far toward redeeming
it from indifPerence, and John Procter com-
pelled himself to say so.

During the baptisms which followed,
both John Procter and Jane were impressed
by the service. They had never, either of
them, been present at such a service, and
they were struck with the simplicity and
earnestness of the minister and those who
presented themselves for membership.

As soon as the baptisms were over, the
choir began the singing of an anthem ap-
propriate to the service. John Procter
knew enough of the customs of the Baptist
Church from what he had heard others say,
to know that the minister would enter the

THE MIRACLK AT MaRKHAM

145

room from the side aisle door. He kept
his eyes on this door with a strange excite-
ment of feelinf^. Upon \n hat mlg-ht possibly
happen in the next few minutes wonld de-
pend the shaping- of church history in Mark-
ham along" some very vital hues of life.
John Procter tlid not liave time to analyze
all that he hoped or feared from what
mig-ht be. He only knew that somehow he
could not help attaching very great impor-
tance to the a])])earaiice of the Baptist min-
ister when he shovdd come out of his room
and go U]) to the commvmion table.

There was an unusually long time before
the minister appeared. The choir had fin-
ished its anthem and sat down. The organ-
ist continued playing, but it was evident
to John Procter, from the actions of people
around him, that the jirolonged absence
of the minister was very unusual.

At last, when the waiting of the congre-
gation had grown to be painfully embar-
rassing, the door that everj' one was now
looking at opened, and the Uev. (JharJes
Harris appeared.

He came into the church very slowly, and
deliberately shut the door as he faced the
people. For an instant he stood still. Then
he walked directly down the aisle to where
tTohn Procter was sitting and bent over and
whispered something to him.

The church was very quiet, and every one
was looking intently at the two ministers.

146

the; miraci,^ at markham

John Procter was seen to change color, as
if he had been unexpectedly moved. The
next moment he rose from his seat and fol-
lowed Charles Harris up to the communion
table. He sat down in the seat to which
Harris motioned him, while the pastor re-
mained standing-, facing his people.

The First Baptist Church of Markham
had never known such an exciting moment
in all its church history. There was no law
or rule in the church forbidding other de-
nominations from partaking of the Lord's
Supper. It had simply been a custom dat-
ing back to the organization of the church.
And never yet had that custom been
changed or varied.

The Rev. Charles Harris spoke slowly,
but distinctly.

"I have taken the liberty to-day of in-
viting to the Lord's table to assist me, Rev.
J©hn Procter. We shall be glad to have
our friends of the Congregational Church
who are present with us to-day, partake of
the emblems with us according to the
Master's command."

He looked about for a moment, and then
gave out the hymn, "Blest be the tie that
binds our hearts in Christian love."

It is doubtful if that hymn had ever been
sung before with more emotion in that
church. It certainly had never been sung
before with reference to any other denom-
ination, Aftev it w^s finished, the minister

THE MIRACI.E AT MARKHAM

147

offered a prayer and served the bread. He
asked John Procter to follow him in the
service of the cup. All through the con-
gregation there was a deepening feeling
, of interest. It reached its climax when, at
' the close of the communion, the minister
spoke a few words, in which he referred
to the sermon preached by John Procter
the first Sunday after his own church was
burned down. All the while lie was speak-
ing the people showed by many tokens
that they were deeply moved.

When the service closed, nearly every one
in the church crowded up to the front to
shake John Procter's hand. A breaking
down of all sectarian lines seemed to John
Procter to be possible. He was almost be-
wildered as he stood there thinking about
the morning's experience. He was unable
to account for the absence of opposition in
the Baptist congregation to what had un-
doubtedly been a most decided innovation.
A few of the older men and women walked
jj out of the church without greeting the
pastor. There was, on the part of a few, a
very strong objection fo what Charles Har-
ris had done. But the majority of the mem-
bers seemed to approve of his action. Tt
was almost as if a movement had been be-
gun for which their hearts and minds had
long been prepared.

"Will yo\i come into the study a moment,
Mr. Procter?" asked Harris, when finally

14<S

THK MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

the people li.nd all pone. Jane was waiting-,
but she went ont when hei* father said he
might remain a little while longei', and the
two ministers went into the little room
back of the pulpit.

"I feel as if some explanation wt^'e due
you for my aetion to-day," began Charles
Harris, with the same noticeable embar-
rassment he had shown in The pulpit. This
soon passed away, as he went on with his
explanation.

"Brother Procter, when T stepped in here
after the baptism I had not made up my
mind about inviting you and your people
to the Lord's Supper. I had thought of it
the moment I saw you. but T was not sure
that I ought to break over an old and es-
t.ablished custom of our church. When the
baptisms were finally over and T had come
in here I had an unusual experience. Since
the burning of your church and your
preaching in my pulpit I have felt as if
some ^iv^at influence were at work in Mark-
ham. Is it the Divine Spirit manifesting
Himself in unusual power for some reason
we cannot tell? What else could have pre-
vailed upon Dean Kandall to do such an
astonishing thing as to invite you into the
pulpit of Grace Cathedral?

"T have asked these questions many times
lately. But when T came into my room
here I was met by an actual Presence that
I could not deny. That is the reason my

THIC MrRACI.K AT MARKHAM 149

" THKRE WAS, ON THE PART OF A I'KW. A VERY
STRONG OltJECTION."

J50

THK MIRACr^K AT MARKHAM

stay here was so long-. 1 liave never had a
similar experience. If Christ is still alive,
as we say we believe, He manifested him-
self to me here in a way 1 cannot wholly
explain. I saw no form, 1 heard no voice.
But I was conscious of an appeal being
made to me by some person who instantly
became real to my thought as the Lord.

"It is hardly necessary for me to say,
Brother Procter, that 1 have always been a
very zealous Baptist. The last thing in the
world that I once expected to do is what
T have done today. I have always believed
that close communion was an essential cus-
tom of our church. I have preached against
open communion when it was practiced by
the ministers of our denomination in Eng-
land or in this country But this morning
I was irresistibly influenced to invite you
and your people to the Lord's Supper. The
Presence that seemed to be waiting for me
here when I came in from the baptisms
seemed to insist that I do as T did. I re-
belled at first. But I could not leave the
room. T knew the people were waiting
for me to come out; but when I finally did
yield, it seemed as if there was a sudden
breaking into the room of a great light.
We do not live in an age of miracles. Broth-
er Procter; but I cannot deny the experi-
ence I had here an hour ago."

"It was the Holy vSpirit," said John Proc-
tor. He spoke after a long silence. He had

11 II I l^lll l<ll.

THE MIRACT.R AT MARKHAM

151

never felt so solemn, so profoundly moved.
Was the miracle at Markham, that he had
judged necessary for the union of the
churches about to be wrought ? If God was
in his world yet, and Christ loved the
church yet, as he did two thousand years
ago, why not? Was the age without a mir-
acle? Was the Holy vSpirit unable to move
a man or a city in this way?

Charles Harris was not a remarkable
man in any way. He was a narrow, un-
educated man in many ways. Rut he was
sincere and wholly devoted to the church,
or at least to the definition he had made
of the church. The experience he had had
that day was far beyond any thing in his
religious life. But the Lord does not al-
ways stop to choose out any particular
man as we think He ought to when certain
movements in the religious history of a
community are need«^d. That He had
chosen to move through this man was a
matter of more moment to ,Tohn Procter
just then than anything else. Tt was not
the man, so mnch as the message, that he
had received that moved and agitated John
Procter.

Tt was perfectly natural that in the next
few minutes that followed the relation of
Charles Harris's experience, the two min-
isters found themselves on their knees
praying together. What was true in the
case of the Dean and John Procter after

152

THK MIRACI^lv AT MARKIIAM

the service at the Cathedral found a repe-
tition in the little room back of the pulpit
in the Baptist Church. And John Procter
knew when he finally went out of that
room that so far as C'harles Harris, and,
probably, also his church were concerned,
another step had been taken towards a
true church in Markham.

With this profound impression of the
divine impulse that was gaining* power,
.John Procter went to the meeting" of his
church the next evening. It was the con-
gregational meeting, which was to decide
the future of the Congregational church in
Markham. With the seriousness which wa.^
inevitable from such a fact the people
crowded the Presbyterian church, which
had been ofifered to them for use on this
occasion, and with a deepening seriousness
they discussed for three hours every phase
of the proposed union with some other
church in Markham.

The discussion had been carried on with-
out formal motion. The most prominent
members had expressed themselves freely.
Finally, one of the Deacons, a man of very
sweet and strong spirit, a man whose
Christian character commanded the re-
.spect of every member of the church, rose
and offered a formal motion.

"I move," he said, with grave delibera-
tion, while John Procter looked at him,
and then at the congregation, with increas-

THK MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

'53

ing" emotion, "T movo that our church take
steps to unite with some other Christian
church here in Markliani, antl that the
details of such union be left to a commit-
tee, of which our pastor shall be the chair-
man."

The motion was seconded at once by one
of the Trustees. The congreg-ation ha'i
virtually been discussing- such a motion all
the evening. They were ready now to act
upon it. John Procter, however, could not
tell even yet, after all the evening's con-
ference, how the vote would go. The en-
tire movement beneath the surface of re-
ligious feeling in Markham was yet largely
unknown to him.

The vote was taken by ballot. As the
ballots were brought up to the table and
the question was asked if every one had
voted, there was a solemn hush over the
church. Even while the ballots were being
counted there was none of the usual whis-
pering and confusion common at such a
time.

"The clerk is ready to announce the re-
sult of the ballot," said John Procter, a:-?
he rosG and stood oy the table, where the
counting had been going on

"Total number of votes cast is 132. Of
which seven are against the motion, and
the balance. 125, are in favor it."

The clerk's voice was generally a. little
indistinct. There were people in the First

154

THK MIRACr.K AT MARKHAM

Congregational Church of Markham who
had more than once criticised his enuncia-
tion. But every syllable he uttered now, in
the announcement of the result of the vote,
fell very distinctly on the ears of the con-
gregation. It would have been a dull peo-
])le who would not be moved by such an
announcement. The silence that greeted it
was significant of the spirit of the church.
There was no applause, no shallow en-
thusiasm. The Congregational Church of
Markham had taken the most important
step in all its history and it realized the
seriousness of it.

.Tohn Procter said a few words.

"I wish the vote had been entirely unan-
imous. I am very glad, however, that it is
practically so. I am sure that time will
prove the Christian wisdom of our course.
Let us have a few prayers, asking the
Spirit to lead us into all the truth."

That famous meeting of the Congrega-
tional Church in Markham closed with a
tender appeal that left the glow of a spirit-
ual reality in the hearts of the people. Be-
fore they went home, John Procter asked
them to appoint the committee to serve
with him. The committee was according-
ly appointed and a date assigned for it to
meet and afterward report to the church.

CHAPTER XII.

A BROKEN HEART.

HEN the news
of the action
taken at the
meeting,
came out

next morn-

'ij^^^^^^^S^ ing, all Markham

was deeply moved by
it. The daily paper
which had for years run sensational items
as a part of its local column, made the
most of such a rare opportunity. A part
of its account of the meeting- is here quoted
to show how it regarded the movement.

"Since the burning of the Congregational
Church it has been a question with the
trustees whether they could possibly re-
build. There was great diversity of opin-
ion on this point. There is no doubt that
Rev. John Procter's opinion intiuenced very
many of his members whose Judgment is
for continuing their own organization. It
is also said that these members regret their
vote to unite with some other church in
Markham, and that they will probably go
off with the minority who voted against the
motion, and organize a Congregational
Church. It is difficult to see what the Rev.
Procter has to gc.'n by such a move. We

156

THK MIRACI^E AT >i.VRKHAM

niulerKtand there is grrut discontent and
diss.itisl'action in his congregation."

This is only a small part oi" the report in
the paper. It was so mis-leading that John
I'rocter was strongly tempted to reply to it.
Jle did not do so, however, bnt he did a
good deal of thinking along the line of the
need of a Christian daily newspaper in
Markhani. More than once he said, "if ve
Christian people in Markhani were once
really nnited, we could have such a paper
as we ought to have." lie pnt this thought
as a dream to be realized, into his mind,
and went forward to complete the work
which now rested upon the committee of
which he was chairman.

They met at once, and after careful can-
vas of all the conditions, decided to go to
the pastor of the Presbyterian Church and
ask him to call his session together for
mutual conference. There was no other
church in Marlchani that contained at that
])articular time so great a number of per-
sonal friends and acquaintances of the
Congregational Cluirch members. The two
churches were ])ractically the same in doc-
trine. They were the same in their ex-
pressions of essential faith. Their church
membership was small, and the union of
the Congregationalists with them, would
make a church of about 300 members in all.

Eev. Hugh Cameron and his session ac-
cordingly met John Procter and his com-

Thk miraci^ic at markham

157

mittee aiul canvassed the whole situation
carefully.

It is without doubt that the I'resbyteri-
ans entertained with the greatest aston-
ishment, the proposition that .John i'roeter,
in the name of flie committee, finally laid
before them. That |)roposition was, in
brief, that the entire membership of the
Congregational Cliurch come into tlic Pres-
byterian, Ijniiging- with them their i)ledg-e
of financial support. That the money com-
ing" to them on tne insnrance of their
burned building-, be turned into the com-
mon church treasury to be used for the
})urpose of iielping tlie needed benevolent
or philanthropic work of Markham. That
the two ministers be retained by the church
and their services employed alternately in
the pulpit and the general work of the
town, wherever it would, in time, seem best
to labor. That the business management
of the church be under the direction of a
Board of Managers to consist of the pres-
ent Session of the Presbyterian Church,
and the Trustees of the Congregational.
That the present officers of both churches
— deacons, superintendents and teachers of
Sunday Schools, be retained and assist one
another in every way possible. That the
salaries of the ministers be <letermined
by the Hoard of Maiuigers, their decision
being" ratified by the whole congregation.
That the two churches finally come to-

158

THE MIRAClrE AT MARKHAM,

gether, when they so agreed, in a com-
munion service which should be preceded
by a series of prayer meetings the week
before.

This series of propositions modified and
enlarged somewhat, was finally agreed,
upon. The Kev. Hugh Cameron and his
session knelt in prayer with John Procter
and his committee. They all confessed af-
terwards that they had never felt more of
the Spirit's presence than during that
])rayer meeting. The old formal, unc'iris-
tian walls of prejudice melted awiiy and
fell down between them. Before they sep-
arated they elasjjed hands as brethren.
John Procter, on reaching home, went in*
to iiis study and, bowing his head on his
desk, gave thanks to God the Father for
what he believed was the beginning of a
new and unparalleled church life in Mark-
ham.

The decision reached by the conference
of the two ministers and their committees,
was in a short time brought before the two
congregations, first, separately, afterwards,
in a union meeting. Theie were some
minor changes made in the propositions on
which the two churches were to unite, but
the final agreement was practically on the
lines first laid down. The date for the
communion service was decided upon, and
the prayer week begun with an interest
which had not been known in Markham

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

159

since a famous revivalist had held meet-
ings in the town many years before.

When the morning of the communion
dawned on Markham, it found the mem-
bers of the two churches ready to come to-
gether as Christian disciples. The prayer
meetings during the week had been largely
attended. Two of the seven members in
John Procter's church who had voted
against union, came to him and asked to
have their vote changed to the affirmative.
The warmest spiritual interest existed
throughout bofli churches. It was true,
as John Procter had predicted, that one of
the first results of their union with another
church would be a good outpouring of the
Holy Spirit. But even he was not pre-
pared for the manifestation that followed
the communion service.

The two ministers sat at the table. The
church was crowded. Chairs had been
brought into the aisles, and the gallery was
filled long before the hour of service.

A form of a mutual covenant had been
agreed upon, and all the members of both
churches rose while it was being re.id. At
its close, Hugh Cameron grasped John
Procter's hand and spoke a few words of
greeting. John Procter replied briefly.
The most eloquent part of the impressive
service was the communion itself, when
the officers of both churches carried the
bread and the cu]) to the members. The

i6o

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKHAM

hushed congregation, the slg-Tit of the two
ministers sitting side by side, the impres-
sion made by the growing thought of what
the day meant, made an occasion of rare
and powerful moment.

Throughout fKe day this feeling grew.
At the evening service, the building was
again crowded as never before, Hugh
Cameron and John Procter both spoke. A
dozen men in the congregation came up
after the service, and said they wanted to
be Christians. There was another service
which lasted until 10 o'clock, and when
John Procter and Hugh Cameron finally
went home, they carried with them the joy
of knowing that they were at the begin-
ning of a genuine Christian revival such as
neither church had known since its organi-
zation.

During the weeks that followed, Mark-
ham was moved by the Spirit of God. All
the history of that time has never been
written. Some of it determined events
that have to do with our characters and
made possible what otherwise would have
been beyond tfie reach of any human
power.

To all of this, the remarkable union of
these two churches and the results that
followed, the very Reverend Dean Randall,
of Grace Cathedral, was a profoundly
moved spectator. He was more than a
spectator. He offered to preach several

"TT"-

THE MIRACI4E AT MARKHAM

161

times during the meetings that were held
night after night, and many a soul in Mark-
ham recalls with tears of joy the fact that
he owes his conversion to the wise and
tender appeal of the Dean.

But events for the Dean were moving on
to a crisis. The action he had taken in
asking John Procter into his pulpit had
not been passed by unnoticed. One of his
wardens had made formal complaint to the
Bishop. The Bishop had, in turn, after
another ineffectual remonstrance with the
Dean, reluctantly cited him to appear for
trial before the church tribunal authorized
for the purpose. This ecclesiastical court
was to sit on the coming Tuesday. This
was six weeks after the union of the two
churches, and while the religious meetings
were at the climax of their power.

The Dean had grown visibly older and
sadder since these events became a part of
his personal history. The inner fire of his
spiritual revolution burned fiercely, and no
man in Markham knew of his struggles.
The Christ in Gethsemane sometimes
seemed very far off to the Dean as he sat
in his study. Again that agonizing figure
drew near to him and gave him comfort.

On Saturday one of the Dean's parishion-
ers, a man who loved and trusted him,
came to see him about the trial.

"There is one point we have overlooked,"
he said, as he sat in the Dean's study and

l62

THK MIRAdylC AT MARKHAM

uot'id with sorrow the Dean's worn and
evon deathly expression.

"The Cathedral has never been conse-
crated. You remember we are waiting to
complete the guild hall and a part of the
east nave. No church rule can possibly
forbid you from inviting a clergyman of
another denomination into an unconse-
crated church edifice. In making your de-
fense before the tribunal next Tuesday, you
can take the ground that the Cathedral
has never been consecrated formally, and
therefore, you had a perfect right to invite
Brother Procter into Grace Cathedral."

The Dean was visibly startled. He had
forgotten the fact to which his parishiomer
called his attention.

"It is true,'* he replied. Then he was
silent. It was a purely technical way of
escaping from a difficulty. No church tri-
bunal could hold him guilty on account of
that technical fact. But had he no other
or higher motive for what he had done?

The parishioner went out of the Dean's
study puzzled to know what the Dean
would do. He gave the impression that he
did not intend to make use of the technical
uneonsecration of the Cathedral when he
appeared before the court.

Sunday, the people of Crace Cathedral
all noted with an almost shocked surprise
the manner of Dean Randall in the pulpit.
He looked like a man who had received

THi; MIRACr.E AT MARKHAM 1 63

H
ri

PJ
O

164

THE MIRACIvE AT MARKHAM

some great blow that had disturbed his
whole nature. The anticipation of the trial
fixed for that week, was g-iven as the rea-
son for his agitation. And still, not even
his closest friends understood the mental
agony the Dean was enduring.

He sat in his study Tuesday morning.
The trial had been fixed for 10 o'clock. The
clergymen and bishops summoned, had all
arrived, and the occasion was one of deep
interest to all Markham.

The Dean had asked his wife to leave
him for a few moments by himself. He
wanted to write out something. She had
been very anxious about him that morning.
He wanted a little while to be al'^ne. He
would be ready to go over to the Cathedral
in time, he said.

She went out, reluctantly. As she looked
back, the view she had of her husband was
reassuring. He was sitting quietly at his
desk, writing, i^he shut the door and went
into the sitting room to wait for him.

The minutes went by, and still there was
no movement on the part of the Dean to
come out. It was five minutes after ten.
Mrs. Randall was very nervous. She stole
out into the hall and listened at the study
door. No sound. The bell rang at that
instant. The noise startled her.

A messenger at the door had been sent
over from the Cathedral to ask if the Dean
was ill. The report had been circulated

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

165

that he might not be able to appear for
trial. The Court was seated, and ready for
him.

Mrs. Eandall hesitated no longer. She
opened the Dean's study door softly, and
took a step into the room.

The Dean was still at his desk. What he
had written lay neatly on the top of a
Prayer Book. He had not taken his own
life, but his face was lying on the picture
of Christ in Getlisemane, which he had
taken down from its usual position over his
desk, and his spirit had departed to God
who gave it, beyond the jurisdiction of all
ecclesiastical courts of earthly power.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE DEAN'S CONFESSION.

HE third day after
he was found dead
in his study at the
Manse, the body of
Dean Handall was
buried in the cem-
etery out on the
wooded hills by
the river. The funeral ser-
vice in the Cathedral had been
very impressive. Many of the
clergymen who had been sum-
moned to the trial of the
Dean were present at his fu-
neral. Bishop Park, with un-
usually sad face, in the chan-
cel, read the service with a
voice, v^^hich more than once broke with
sympathy. For he loved Dean Eandall,
without altogether understanding him.
Besides, as his eye rested on the front seat
near the chancel rail, he felt during all the
service the presence of Francis Randall,
who had come from Pyramid. His mother
leaned upon him, her white face turning
often to him for comfort.

Out at the grave she clasped her son's
arm with both her hands, while the words
were recited solemnly, "Earth to earth,

THE MIRACLK AT MARKHAM

167

ashes to aslies, dust to dust;" and as the
rest drew back and left them nearer the
grave, mother and son dropped tears of
their common humanity on the coffin as
it rested in its place. Then, going home,
after the last friend had departed from
the Manse, they went over again the writ-
ten statement of the Dean, which he had
composed the day of his death. They had
already considered it several times. Fran-
cis now held the sheets of paper in his
hand and thmi|>-htfully reviewed again
his father's confession. For that is what
it really was.

"To My Dear Wife and My Son Francis,"
the paper began, and then went on as fol-
lows:

"The statement which is found at the
•lose of what T write here this morning
was written several years ago. At the
present time, this Tuesday morning, when
1 am awaiting the trial at the Cathedral, I
do not see anything in the statement to
modify or withdraw. I wish my wife and
son to read what I have here written and
make ptiblic only such parts of it as they
may find it wise to do. I have opened my
whole heart to you. Some of my disclosure
is too sacred for others. May the Lord of
all grace and mercy keep and bless you.
If I am summoned by the God of all life
into his presence this day, T go prepared
to meet His all-knowing and all-compas-

1 68

THE MIRACl,E AT MARKHAM

sionate love. This is written in the faith
that anticipates a joyful meeting"

It was at this point that the Dean had
evidently dropped his pen upon the pa-
p*.r. He had then evidently risen, reached
down the picture, placed the leaves of his
statement togetlier, and then fallen with
his face resting- on the desk, as his wife
had found him when she entered the study.

The statement that followed what the
Dean had written that Tuesday morning
was this:

"I write this which follows in order that
those who are nearest to me by the ties
of kindred and affection may understand
what may seem to many of them contrary
to my nature, as they think they have
known me for many years.

"When the Rev. John Procter's church
burned down and T invited him into the
pulpit of Grace Cathedral, probably not
one man among all my acquaintances in
Markham understood my motive. It was
not a sudden resolve on my part, but was
in reality the result of the conviction of
several years' experience and meditation,
deepened and strengthened by the exper-
ience of my own son in his Western parish.

"But since my invitation of Brother
Procter and his acceptance, which has led
up to this ecclesiastical trial, which awaits
me. I have had a strange and, to me, in-
expressibly painful revolution of feeling

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

169

and also of jutlpment over Ihis matter
"T^ay by tlJi.V tlie oonviction has grown
with me that I have made a mistake in
this matter. It is diflicult for me to explain
what I mean by this. I believe as firmly
as ever in the great need of Christian
union. I feel as if it was all wrong that
our church, into which I have grown by
long years of association, should refuse
by its canon law to admit clergymen of
other denominations into its pulpit to
preach or administer the sacraments. But
"ly judgment beg"ins to torture me by as-
serting- that I have not chosen the best or
wisest way to bring about a change in this
church rule of conduct. T beg^in to think
that I should either have withdrawn from
the Episcopal Church altogether and united
with some other, where my convictions on
this question would not be outraged; or,
failing to do this, I ought to have con-
fessed to the Bishop my fault and so let
the matter fall without the inevitable trial.
"T have done neither of these things.
My whole outward church life has made
such a course as either one of these im-
possible for me. I have therefore been
torn»ented by the conviction that my at-
tempt to bring about a spirit of Christian
union has failed within my own church,
while at the same time I have not acknowl-
edg-ed my mistake, nor withdrawn myself
from the dilemma which has g-rown more

lyo

THK MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

perplexing to me with every day's ap-
proach to the trial.

"As I write, this, I do not see at all
clearly what the future is for the Epis-
copal Chiireh, so far as any attempt to-
wards real church union is concerned. If
the time should come when the old canon
law, forbidding- other ministers to preach
in our churches should be withdrawn or
modified, it would, without doubt, have a
mighty influence upon the churches to
bring them together. As I writ« this,
with the conviction growing firmer than
ever that I myself have not taken the right
course to bring about this result, I am
without any hesitation whatever in saying
that this canon is contrary to the spirit
of Christ and ought not to be a part of
the Episcopal Church life. When, how-
ever, I try to answer the question, how
shall the Church unite more fully with the
other churches and Christians, I have no
answer. My own struggles and my own
personal convictions of mistake in what I
have done leave me in no condition to de-
cide a possible course for my Church to
pursue, even supposing it wishes to unite
fully with Christendom.

"I have also a confession to make re-
garding my own personal failure to iden-
tify myself with any movement towards
the public welfare of Markham. I have,
and I say it with deep and painful regret.

THK MIRACI^K AT MAKKUAM

171

cut myself selfishly away from all other
men and measures in matters of publii;
good. My natural tastes and habits have
been those of the recluse and the scholar.
As 1 draw near what 1 have a presenti-
ment is the end, I regret with a bitterness
which only deeply sensitive natures feel,
my unchristian-like isolation from the com-
mon sins and needs of the town where 1
have lived so long.

"1 do not yet know what my action will
be at the trial. 1 await it with a dread
which is heightened by ray confusion of
mind at the thought of a blunder of judg-
ment, which had at the heart of it a most
truthful desire to do the Christlike thing.

"There is one other matter which con-
cerns my family. For the last two years
I have looked death in the face daily. A
lesion of the heart valves has made pos-
sible my sudden death at any time. My
physician knows this. No one else. I
have considered all sides of the possibility
so far as my own wife and son are con-
cerned. There would be no difference in
my condition or in the chances for my
recovery if I were to cease work. I am in no
pain, and my end, when it comes, will
probably be swift and without suffering.

"I think my wife and son will under-
stand what I have tried to explain. I love
the Church into which 1 was born and to
which I have given my service, weak and

PuyuJwSK^^X

172

THfi MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

imperfect as it may be. But 1 am toru
by au inward coufiict, as I behold her di-
vided from her brethren, and I realize my
own powerlessness to change or better her
rules of conduct. If, when I am gone,
even the result of my imperfect and un-
satisfactory desire shall be a longing to
unite with other Christians, that shall in
time do away with the old customs, I shall
count all the experience of the past year
in my life as worth while.
■' "Meanwhile I walk in the darkness.
Yet have I not often sung, "The Lord is
my light and niy salvation?"

Here the confession ended with an
abruptness that seemed to indicate an in-
terruption which was of such a nature as
to demand instant attention, and evident-
ly at no future time had the Dean wished
to add to what he had written.

For a long time Francis Randall and his
mother dwelt upon this remakrable reve-
lation of the Dean's inner experience.

"Do you think, do you believe, Francis,
that your father was really mistaken — 1
mean, did he make a real mistake when he
invited Mr. Procter into the Cathedral?"

Mrs. Kandall asked this question of her
son with painful interest in his reply.

"Mother," sai(3 Francis, slowly, "I do not
yet believe that father made any mistake.
But it is the sad tiling for us to know now
that he believed he did. What he says

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

173

about the best way to bring about a union
between our church and others is vital. I
have struggled over that question more than
over any other. I do not yet see the light."

During Francis Kandall's stay in Mark-
ham, attending to the business of his
father's estate, mother and son often re
curred to the Dean's confession. What hih
father had written alfected Francis Ran-
dall deeply. It had the effect of modify-
ing his views on some points. But con-
cerning his own view of the best way to
effect a union between his own church
and others he was more and more per-
plexed. That his father had agonized over
it until it had been one of the immediate
causes of his death, or at least Tte mental
stress that had hastened it, Francis was
fully convinced. Tn a growing seriousness
and a more passionate longing for the
most Christian wisdom to settle his own
religious convictions right, he prepared to
return to his own work ir Pyramid.

But before he went back to that life of
stress and struggle v.ith the wild life that
wounded his manly soul like a crucifixion,
lie went to see Jane Procter and plead with
her again to go with him.

He had not seen Jane to talk with her
since his sad return on account of the
death of the Dean. Once he had stepped
into the house for a formal call of a few
moments and had seen Mr. and Mrs.

174

THE MIRACUi AT MARKHAM

I'rocter, but Jane was not yet home from
her school. He wondered a little if she
had purposely avoided hm.

So he called the next time after school
hours, late in the afternoon. This was
tAvo weeks after his father's death.

When he rang* the bell, Jane herself
opened the door. She had on her hat and
cloak and seemed confused at the sight of
Kandall.

"Excuse me," said Francis gravely,
"perhaps you were going out. Don't let
me keep you if you were."

"No. no," murmured Jane, "I — you — I am
very glad to see you. Won't you come in?"

Francis Randall entered and followed
Jane into the parlor. As he took a seat,
Jane noticed that his hand, the one that
had been burned at the time of W^illiam's
accident, was really disfigured. As she
remembered, Francis Randall had once
been proud of his physical perfection. She
wondered how he felt now.

"Did you really mean that?" asked Raji-
dall, after a second's very painful pause,

"Mean what?" asked Jane, trembling to
think he might have actually caught her
looking at the disfigurement of his hand.

"Why, are you really glad to see me.
Jane? "Because you know what T have comp
for, don't you?"

"T don't know." replied Jane, faintly.
She said to herself, "If he proposes to me

THF. MIRACI^E AT MARKHA.M

1/5

>
W

176

THE MIRACI4E AT MARKUAM

again 1 do not know how to refuse him."

"Because you know, Jane, i feel just the
same that 1 always did. You have no idea
how I dread to go back to Pyramid alone.
A minister cannot do his work well unless
he is married. Do 1 need to tell you again,
Jane, that 1 love you with all the
heart?"

Jane did not dare look up. Her heart
beat fast. A great conflict was going on
in her. She felt that if once she looked
up into Francis Itandall's pale, handsome
face, she would not be able to say no to
him again.

He waited a moment for her to answer
his question, and then slowly and delib-
erately took up his chair and brought it
over close to her and sat down. He did not
offer to touch her, and something told
Jane that he would never attempt even a
lover's caress until she had yielded her
heart to him. But when he spoke again,
slie trembled at the thought of the man's
great-hearted love for her.

"Jane, 1 cannot and 1 will not go back to
Pyramid until 1 know whether \ua love
me. Yon must tell me. Do you love, Jane,
or not?"

"I have told you I cannot man'y a min-
ister. I am not fitted for such a position."
Jane's lips trembled and her voice was
^erv low.

"That is not my question," said Francis

THE MIRACLK AT MARKHAM

177

Randall, lirmly, and still Jane did not dare
to look up at him.

But something in his tone roused a feel-
ing of resistance in .Iai5e's nature. And it
was then that she uttered the words that
caused her the bitterest regret of her
wuole life. We have all done the same
thing at some time.

"Ministers live such dull, self-sacriticing
lives. I am tired of the shifts and expe-
dients of a poor minister's daughter. I
could never make you happy."

A great change came into Francis Ran-
dall's face. He clenched his hands on the
chair, as if to keep himself from falling.
The scar on his right hand stood out like
a great birth mark. His large, soft eyes
grew hard anti the whole man stiffened as
if in sudden resistance to a blow.

He rose from his seat and stood directly
in front of Jane. She seemed compelled
to look up at him.

"So you will not marry me because I am
r» noor minister? Is that it? It is not
because I am in the church, but because
I am not rich 9*^

Jane would not answer, but her tongue
seemed powerless. The unexpected dis-
closure of her secret reason, which she had
not even dared to acknowledge to herself,
except at very rare moments, smote her
heart with fear and shame.

He waited a moment, and thea said:

""•""WP

17a

THli MIKAClyiC AX MARKUAM

"You have g-iven lue your auswer." Be-
fore she could realize what he was doing,
he had turned and walked swiftly out of
the parlor into the hall. He opened the
door and went out.

Then Jane ran into the hall. As she ran,
she cried out with a sob, "No, no, Fran-
ks! I do love yon!" She even had her
hand on the door and was about to open
it, but a feeling of shame seized her and
she went back into the parlor, and, throw-
ing herself down on the couch, cried as
she had not cried since she was a little girl.

CHAPTER XIV.
A UNITED PLAN OK CAMPAIGN

is possible that if
Francis llandall had
heard her he might
have come back. But
the man's heart was
sore butt'eted within
him, and he went out
to J'.yramid with a
great sadness of soul,
and as he took up the
burdens of liis rough
parish, he groaned
in spirit and a^ked
himself if was worth while to make
the struggle. For the love of his
life seemed to be killed out of him,
and nothing but his Christian faith now
kej^t him true to the routine of duties
chat must be obeyed, whether his human
heart was satisfied or not. It was one com-
fort to him that his mother went with him
to keep house for him temporarily.

As for Jane, she confronted for the first
time her real motive for refusing to marry
Francis TJandaM. -The hideous fact that
she was forced to face was doubly hideous
to her, because she had thought to deceive
herself for a long time by keeping it in the

baokarround. But had she

given

Francis

i8o

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

Ilandall her final answer? She loved him
more than ever. Only that gaunt trouble-
some thing-, the poverty and meagerness
of a poor minister's house, seemed to thrust
in between her heart's longing and her
lover's persistence.

Was he her lover any longer? Had she
not murdered something there in the par-
lor that afternoon? Jiut other girls killed
the same thing. She recalled several of
her acquaintances who had married rich
men for the mone^', the position, the social
distinction. And they seemed hai^py. Did
they successfully hide the skeleton at home
when the public was rot looking on? Her
heart hungered for the love which she had
turned awaj\ And in the days that fol-
lowed she went to her school with the
tread mill pace of one who has seen heaven
draw very near, and then vanish, with no
hope or desire for the future. Ah! Jane!
It is a terrible thing for a woman to try
to put anything above the wealth of a
good man's love! Will you live to realize,
even through bitterness of soul, what you
have lost in killing the best and holiest
feeling in a woman's life?

Ignorant of this tragedy in the heart life
of two of its children, the town of Mark-
ham awoke that winter, as the weeks went
on, to the fact of a transformation taking
place in its inner circle of conduct.

The town had watched the union of the

THE MIRACIyK AT MARKHAM

l8l

Congregational and i'resbyterian churches
with an interest it had never belore felt
for anything, unless it was a private scan-
dal or a public crime. Dimly, but surely, it
was coming to be felt even by the city local
politicians and unchristianlike men of
Markham that a new force was present
that somehow was to be reckoned with.

The meetings begun at the time the two
churches united, continued for three
months, healthfully' and steadily. When
they closed, a series of cottage prayer meet-
ings began, which afterwardsdevelopedinto
a force for bringing together nearly all the
Christian workers of xMarkham. But be-
fore that time came, Jtev. John Procter and
Hugh Cameron held a conference, at which
certain plans were discussed which belong-
to the history of the Miracle at Markham.

John Procter and Hugh Cameron were
fast learning to love each other. The
church peoj^le had voted to ask the two
ministers to preach alternately on the
Sabbabth. The question of how the two
men could best serve the needs of the town
had come up in a service held one Sunday
evening. At that meeting Kev. John Proc-
ter presented the following line of cam-
paign, and It is not too much to say that
it was listened to with unusual Interest.

"Brother Cameron and myself have coun-
selled together very often about the best
line for church work, and we wish to pre-

1 82

TUlv MIRACI,K AT MAKKUAM

sent this outline for the action of the
church. It all comes under the general
head :

"What can the churches of Markham do
for the Christiani/ing- of the town itself?"

I. The Need of Markham.

It may be summed up under five heads :

(i.) The need of a united church.

(2.) The need of a Christian Sabbath.

(3.) The need of a combined attack by all Christian
forces upon the saloon.

(4.) The need of an evangelizing movement in the
factory district.

(5.) The need of a public voice to help these needed
reforms in the shape of a local Christian paper.

As to the first point:

Certain things can be done. We advise
the following plans for uniting the
churches;

(a) Secure the co-operation of all the
churches in any common benevolent or re-
form movement that is so universal in its
apjieal to mankind that Christian disciples
can and will unite to do it, regardless of
differences in creeds and customs. Such
a work is Sunday reform in Markham.
We are convinced that the churches of
every denomination will unite in a move-
ment for a better Sabbath in our own town.

Another suggestion which we make along
this line to unite the churches is an inter-
denominational newspaper, that shall ad-
vocate the reforms our town needs and
give us what the Christians of all the

THK MIRACI.IC AT MARKHAM

iS-

ohiii'clios seem jii!;t<H'(I wo ()iij>lit to havi',
!iii(I tluil Is, ii piipcr ut' jirc ^^o{. jislinnu'd
to luivi' coiiu' into oMi' lionu's. Thf ])rost'nt
is a. very {^ood lime to ()r;^;ini/e siicli a
])iip('r, ()win<^- to the fjicf thai on«' i)respiit
daily ])apt'r is nolorioii^^ly iiicompctent and
l)a(t from vxrvy j)(>int of xicw.

Another supjifstion tor uniting' the
(linrt'lies is the I'staljlisliincnt. of ('otta!»"r
lirayer meetings in neighborhoods ^vhi('h
contain members of ditferent (hMiomina-
tions.

Still another means of church nnion is
o])ened to ns in a combined effort to ck)se
the saloons in Markham. They are a
connnon danger to every home. They are so
recognized by the fathers and mothers in
all the chnrches. We recommend a simple
organization, uhich shall embrace every
man who votes and every woman who
prays and all who want to see the saloon
outlawed, to come together and use every
effort to rid ^larkham of this nnmitigntcd
evil. Tf the pastors and church members
of all the denominations in Markham will
thns unite to fight the coTnmon enemy of
ns all, we can have our way in this matter.

(b) We suggest under the head of a
Christian Sabbath that we study into the
facts as they are today in "Markham. That
we pledgee onrselvcs not to travel on Sun-
day trains, abandon the regvdar habit of
going after the Sunday mail or purchasing

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THR MIRACI,E AT MARKHAM

uierchandise, and begin a study of ways
and means to prevent all unnecessary
labor in the town.

(c) The need of abolishing the saloon
has already been mentioned. We feel that
this battle is distinctively the battle of thv*
churches. If the Christian people, mem-
bers of the churches, do not organize to
kill this devil, who will? In Markham we
have fifteen of these soul-destroying insti-
tutions. They have cost us untold suffer-
ing in the family life and immense sums of
money. And yet the churches of Markham,
without the help of a single other organiza-
tion, could make the saloon outlaw if they
would only act together.

(d) As to the factorj-^ district: There
is a feeble mission work now established
there by the ?.Iethodists. IJut what is
needed is the general pouring of a large
army of Christian workers into that part of
the city; with a steady, intelligent study
of whatever conditions are wrong there,
so that they can be righted. To do this
will require a united Christian sentiment
in Markham. We are prepared at some
near future tinie to propose a plan to the
other churches which we will submit to
them in a mass meeting called for the pur-
pose.

(e) Lastly, as to the Christian newspa-
per which Markham needs.

\o one denies our need of it. The only

THE MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

185

question is one largely of expense. But
Markham has an aggregate attendance in
its twelve churches of 1,500 people. Add to
these a large number of business men who
are not church members, but who would be
glad to see a good paper in Markham, and
we could easily count on from 2,000 to 2,500
subscribers in the town and county of a
wide-awake, pure, clean, intelligent news-
paper.

We believe there is enough intelligence,
wealth and power in our combined
churches to establish such a paper. A par-
tial canvass has already been made by
Brother Cameron and myself, and we be-
lieve the necessary money can be obtained
to put such a paper as we need into the
homes of Markham. It would be a paper
owned and controlled by the Christian peo-
ple of the town. It would be non-partisan
in municipal affairs. In national politics
it would be the aim to give, in different
columns, a fair and Christian view of the
great questions upon which the best men
in the different parties differ, with a view
to influencing the citizens to that course
which will benefit the whole nation.

There are serious difficulties in the way
of such a paper. There are also serious
difficulties in living generally. At the
same time most of us want to keep on liv-
ing and succeed in doing so. Such a paper
as we have suggested will not be perfect.

1 86

TH1-: MIRACr^e AT MARKH.VM

It will be edited and published by weak,
imperfect men and women, not by angels.
But there is no question about our need of
a good paper in Markham, and we believe
we can have one in this way. As we look
at it, such a paper will do a wonderful
service in uniting the churches and voic-
ing the public opinion in the matter of the
town's needed reforms.

This outline of plan of campaign for
church work was vigorously discussed by
the Union Church. Committees were ap-
pointed for the various kinds of work, and
great enthusiasm shown. No feature of
the plan called out greater enthusiasm than
the proposed Christian paper. The peo-
ple of Markham had suffered long from a
pronounced whisky organ. Even the busi-
ness men, who voted for license, were dis-
gusted with the local paper. Many of them
were ready to support something better,
and although the new movement was so
radical and novel, there seemed great hopes
of its being realized. When John Procter
and Hugh Cameron went home that night
they had for almost the first time in their
lives a passionate faith in overturning the
devil's reign In Markhom.

Out in Pyramid that winter, Francis
TJandall, far from the glow of any relig-
ious enthusiasm, such as now began to
light up the church in Markham, fought
his way through his parish duties like a

THh MIKACI.H AT MAKKHAM iS;

'I nON'r CARIC V) OO TO MARKUAM."

i88

THE MIRACI<K AT MAKKUAM

inau stricken with disease of all his facul-
ties.

William was quick to notice the change
in his friend. They were friends now, for
William knew what he owed the young
Episcopal clergyman. He noted with re-
gret the change in the once elastic step and
buoyant bearing, and wondered at its
cause, but the friendship of the two men
had never gone so far as a mutual exchange
of confidence in their love affairs.

It was one evening, about two months
after Francis' return to Pyramid that he
came into William's room, where he was
still convalescing and beginning to think
of getting to work again. JRandall had a
letter in his hand.

"Read that," he said, briefly. William
read, and exclaimed in wonder:

"Why, they want you to come to Grace
Cathedral! Your father's old church in
Harkham ! "

"Yes, the Bishop wants me to take a
l)lace under the new Dean. The congre-
gation has asked for me.*'

"Of course you will go?" asked William,
feeling at the same time a pang of loneli-
ness at the thought of Randall leaving
Pyramid.

"I don't know," replied Randall slowly,
as he turned a log of wood over in the
open fire place before which they were
sitting. "I don't think I shall. I don't

ip^^p^

THE MIRACI.E AT MARKHAM

IS9

care to go to Markham." And he was
very quiet after that. The tire from the
logs threw strange shadows upon Francis
Randall's face, but the real shadow was
on his heart, and he wondered if it ever
would be chased away by the light of love
again.

CHAPTER XV.
BACK TO MAKKHAM.

fWO months after Francis
Kandall had said to Wil-
liam rrocter that he did-
not think he would go to
Markham and take a
place in the Cathedral
under the new Dean,
Eev. John Procter came
into the parsonage one
evening- just before tea time and surprised
Mrs. Procter and Jane by saying-:

"I just met Dean ^Murray. He says Fran-
cis Randall has v ritten aeeejjting- the posi-
tion in the Cathedral, and eN))ects to leave
Pyramid when his year there is up, about
Christmas."

Jane was standing- by the table when her
father spoke. During- those dreary weeks
which followed Francis Randall's departure
from Markham, she had g-one about her
school duties stubbornly but without any
heart in them.

The anoun cement of Randall's proposed
return to Markham affected her, at first in
a way for which she was not prepared.

She could feel fier heart beating- fast, and
her mind was confused as to what her lov-
er's return might mean to her. vShe want-
ed to ask her father a question, but dared

THE MIRACI^C AT MAKKHAM

191

uot trust her voice to do so, and her mother
spoke at that iiiomeiit, as Jane turned from
the table and slowly vvalkevi into the
kitchvn.

"What place will he hold under Dean
Murray?"

"He is to help in the parish woik, 1 be-
lieve," rr ' Med John Procter. Then he ad-
ded in a low voice although Jane had shut
the kitchen door when she went out.

"Eliza, I am sorry that Kandall is coming
here. I am sure it means trouble for Jane.
She has not been the same girl since the
Dean's death. I mean since young Kandall
was last here. Has she confided in you?"

"No," replied Mrs. Procter, with a sigh,
"There is something Jane will not tell m.;.
I know she loves Francis Kandall, and
something has happened to make her
wretched. But she has not told me what it
is."

And in fact, at that moment Jane was
saying to herself out in the kitchen as she
tried to crowd back the tears that would
come in spite of her, "1 am sorry be is
coming. How can 1 bear to meet him,
after what has happened."

In this disturbed and unhappy condition
of mind, she awaited with dread Francis
Randall'vS arrival.

Meanwhile, he was having a revulsion of
feeling concerning his first determination
tiot to go to Markham.

192

THE MIRACI«K AT MAKKHAM

lie hud thought the matter out fully, and
at last decided to aecept the (all to (Jraee
Cathedral.

Several motives urged him to this (bourse.
The new Dean was a man who had known
and sympathized with Dean Kandull. The
death of Randall has caufied a change of
sentiment throughout the parish. A man
of the Dean's views was not unwelcome us
a successor. Francis Randall knew enough
about him to be sure that so far as work-
ing out the j)roblem of church union was
concerned, Dean Murr-iy would not stand
in the way of any reasonable attempts.

IJut the ruling motive that influenced
Francis Randall, was a personal desire to
face the very worst and live it down, or as
he sadly said to himself, live it up. If he
returned to Markham and met Jane Proc-
ter, he might grow, in time, to realize that
the loss of her out of his life was not so
great as now he felt it to be. At a distance
he lived over and over the possibilities that
once he lived upon in hope. "But if this
woman really had refused to be his wife
because he was ])oor, her character was
not the one that would help him in his life
work. She was not worthy of the place he
had been giving her in his thought. If she
really put monej' before love, she — "

He did not go on to argue much, but the
whole matter finally resolved itself into a
determination to go back to Markham and

THK MIRACrj-: AT MARKHAM

193

Bee if the chance of constantly seeing Jane
Procter would not, after all, in time prove
to be his salvation. If the love he had had
for her was goinp to survive the shock of
that last interview with her, his life
work was practically at an end. In any
case he was so restless and unhappy in his
work at i*yramrd, that he felt that his use-
fulness there was almost gone.

When he had finally made up his mind, he
told William:

"I'm going back to Markham, after all,"
he said one evening as they were again
seated in front of the fire.

William looked at him wistfully, and at
last he said:

"Of course I don't blame you to want a
better place than this. Markham and
Grace Cathedral are not exactly Pyramid."

"It isn't just that," replied Randall,
slowly. "But the fact is, I have lost my
interest in this work out here. I want to
say to you, Procter, that I — I, — well, neve^*
mind, — I I can't tell you — but I feel the
need of a change, and that's the reason I'm
going to Markham."

William did not ask any questions. A
recent letter from his mother had revealed
a part of Jane's story, not all, and Wil-
liam knew something of the cause for Ran-
dall's depression. He did not dare to ob-
trude or ask the other man for the con-
fidence he withheld. And, in fact, Randall

194

THK MIRACm AT MARKHAM

could not confide the truth to any one,
least of all to Jane's brother.

When the time came for Francis' depart-
ure, Pyramid realized what it was about to
lose. William Procter felt deeper than
others.

"You'll have to take up uiy fight against
the gambling dens, Procter,*' said Kandall,
as he walked aver to the station the day he
finally left. He spoke with a sad smile,
and somewhat lightly, bur he hud no idea
that his words carried any weight with
them, or were really taken in earnest by
his friend.

But when Francis Kandall had gone, and
William turned back to his little room and
remembered that he was to resume his
mill duties the next day, he was unable to
shake off the impression that, somehow, in
some way, he was responsible for a part of
Pyramid's moral life.

With the conviction that he would, some-
how, be carried, in spite of himself, intt)
the fight that Randall had begun, he
walked into the mill the next day. It \\^,i
not without a curious blending of emotions
that he stopped at the entrance of the mix-
ing room and looked again upon the place
where he had so nearly met his death. In
a growing seriousness the assistant super-
intendent of the Golconda mill resumed his
duties. And ever, that day, two voices
called to him. The voice of duty to the

THE MIRACLK AT MaRKHAM

'95

camp which had lost its greatest-hearted
champion of truth and right, and the voice
of his love for that far-distant life that in
the study of the Professor of Old Testa-
ment Literature at Andover, had bowed
her haughty head over the manuscript of
the Minor Prophets and cried for the hun-
ger of a heart that could be satisfied with
nothing less than love itself.

The week before Christmas, John Proc-
ter said, one evening, as he came in from
his work:

"I met Francis Pandall today. He has
just come."

"How is !i -' looking? ' Mrs. Procter asked
the question, while Jane made a miserable
effort to appear unconcerned, as she went
on with some piece of sewing. But her
fingers trembled and her face flushed.

"Why, I think he looks about the same,"
replied John Procter. "I only saw him
for a moment."

That was about all that was said, but the
next morning when Jane started to go to
school, she faced the possibility of meeting
Francis Eandall on the street, with a ner-
vous feeling of dread that would have been
absurd if it had not been so sadly tragic
for her.

She usually walked past the Cathedral on
her way to school. It was the shortest
way. But this morning she went several
blocks out of the way «nd felt relieveti

■^•■■aiwi

196

THE MIRACLE \T MARKHAM

when no tall figure wearing the Episcopal
dress, appeared. And it was several days
before she met Francis Randall, and then
it happened so suddenly that she had no
time to determine what she should do.

It was one afternoon, as she stepped out
of the school-room after the day's work
was done. She was tired and nervous, and
had a headache. But that was nothing to
the heartache that hurt her now every day.

The children were swarming all about
her, and she was walking slowly. Sud-
denly Francis Kandall turned the corner
and passed her.

As he went by, he lifted his hat. Jane
had wondered, several times, whether he
would rut her entirely. But he was too
much of a gentleman to do that, and, be-
sides, had he not once loved her with all
his heart? Jane knew that he had looked
at her as he went by. She had lifted her
eyes to him long enough to be able to say
to herself, afterwards, "he is very pale and
stern." But he had walked straight on,
and without the slightest hesitation.

So that was the way they were to meet,
hereafter? Simply as bowing acquaint-
ances? Jane had a momentary feeling of
relief, that she knew now what to expect.
At the same time she cried harder that
night than at any time since her last talk
with him.

As for Francis Randall, he neither avoid-

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

'97

ed nor sought any opportunity for seeing
.lane that winter. As a matter of fact,
they did meet at a few social gatherings,
but at none of them did they ever exchange
a word. Francis Kandall went out very lit-
tle. He was engaged upon a work which
occupied nearly every evening, and it was
only when his church duties compelled
him, that he appeared in public. It soon
began to be rumored in Markham that the
popular assistant to the Dean was writing
a book, but what it was, whether history or
religion or a love story, no one seemed to
know.

It is quite certain that never in all its re-
ligious history, had Markham experienced
such a change in its church life from the
time Francis Randall entered the Grace
Cathedral parish. Whatever may have been
the depth of his personal disappointment,
the hunger and restlessness of his heart,
there was no question as to his willingness
to help make the union of the churches in
Markham a reality.

John Procter and Hugh Cameron soon
discovered that an added force had enterei^
Markham with the coming of Randall. He
was heartily in sympathy with the outline
of work proposed along the line of Sunday
reform, the movement against the saloon,
and the Christian paper owned and con-
trolled by the churches.

At a meeting where the three ministers

-p««^*^

198

THK MlRACl,!': AT MARKHAM

met to discuss those plans, Francis llan-
dall volunteered to make a personal can-
vass of the town to know what the facts
were concerning- Sunday desecration.

He made his canvass thoroughly, and pre-
sented it personally to each one of the min-
isters of Markham. l^erhaps his interview
with Rev. Lawrence Brown, of the Metho-
dist Church, will illustrate, as well as any,
the general method that Randall employed
to bring the churches together on the Sun-
day question.

The Rev. Lawrence Brown had been de-
scribed by John Proctor in the little bio-
graphical sketch of him, as a narrow-mind-
ed zealous Methodist, even to the extent of
being" discourteous to the other denom-
inations. When he was assigned to Mark-
ham, as pastor of the First Methodist
Church, he had foimd an Endeavor Society
organized among" his young people, work-
ing" harmoniously with the other Endeavor
Societies. He had at once re-org-anized the
young" people into an Epworth Leag"ue, and
changed the night of their meeting. They
were now working" entirelj' by themselves,
using" different subjects and plans in their
meeting"S, and were entirely out of touch
with all the other young" people's church
societies.

All this, Francis Randall knew more or
less exactly, when he called to see the
Methodist minister. But he went with the

"'^''TP^

THK MIRACr.K AT MARKHAM

199

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THK MIRACI«E AT MARKHAM

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one great purpose of ignoring all this, and
seeing if there was not a common meeting
ground for all the denominations on the
better observance of the Lord's Day.

"You see, Brother Brown," said Francis
Randall, after he had explained the rea-
son for his call, "Markham is really in a
serious condition. Every cigar and fruit
store in town is open all day, baseball
games are frequent, excursion trains stop
here on their way to the Lake, and the
theatre is beginning to give Sunday even-
ing shows of a very cheap and vulgar kind.

"Now, the question with us ministers
ought to be, how can we prevent the dese-
cration of the Lord's Day? There is
another fact in connection with the sub-
ject. A great many of our church mem-
bers are the very ones who encourage the
Sunday desecration the most. One of the
fast paper trains that leaves the east at 2
o'clock Sunday morning, brings a Sunday
morning paper to Markham one hour be-
fore the regular time for church service.
Hundreds of our chuch members buy these
papers, and at once begin to read them be-
fore they go to church. In what condi-
tion of mind and heart are they to wel-
come spiritual truth when their minds are
filled with the same subiects which have
filled them during the whole week, poli-
tics, sport, gossip, crime, scandal, and all
the rest of the vast mass of material that

^T"

Vri.m^

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

20 1

goes into the Sunday paper and unfits a
man for religious truth?

"Again, onr church members are the
very ones who compel the postoflfice to re-
main open on Sunday. Jmmediately after
the close of church services, our people
flock over to the postoflice. The business
men open, read, and many of them answer
the business letters they get, on Sunday.
Meanwhile, our postmaster and two clerks
are unable to attend church, because they
must look after the selfish desires of our
church members who insist on having the
office open on Sunday, in order that their
curiosity as to mail may be satisfied.

"Don't you think. Brother Brown, that
the sermon of the modern minister is in
between the ujiper and the nether mill-
stone, the Sunday paper before it, and the
mail after it? It makes a very poor sort of
Simday sandwich for religious nourish-
ment. And it does seem as if we must be-
gin to do something, or Markham will be-
come a place where the Sabbath will be
utterly held in contempt, and we shall in-
evitably be punished by God as the Jews
were when they, as a nation, profaned the
command to keep the day holy."

"I believe you are entirely right in the
matter!" replied the Rev. Lawrence Brown,
with an emphasis that astonished Francis
Kandall.

But in point of fact, the astonishment

"f¥"WiW»^

202

THK MIRACIvK AT MARKHAM

was on the other side, also. The Methodist
pastor asked himself several times, while
Eandall was speaking, "When did an Epis-
copal clergyman ever before call on me, or
call me brother?" There was something
very winning in Randall's manner. The
Methodist man, a plodding, over-worked
man, poorly paid, not very broadly edu-
cated, but sincere and honest according to
his views, felt a little flattered by this
interview with this brilliant young Episco-
pal clergyman who had already written a
number of short stories, and was said to be
at work on a book. He had an awe of an
author. And Francis Randall's unaffected,
simple, hearty manner, so free from church-
ly superiority, really made a strong im-
pression upon him.

"What will you do in connection with the
other ministers, about thTs Sunday ques-
tion?" asked Francis, after the other man
had expressed himself so heartily.

"Why, what would you suggest?" asked
Mr. Brown, cautiously, but willingly.

"Will you preach a series of sermons on
Sunday observance, to begin with?"

"Yes. gladly."

"Will you ask your congregation to vote
to send a petition to the town council to
pass an ordinance forbidding baseball,
Sunday theatres and the like?"

"Yes, I'll do that."

"Will you urge your business men not to

■^MgteWliH

'mm MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

203

read the Sunday morninjj pajjers, and wait
for their mail until Monday morning?"

The Rev. Lawrence Brown hesitated be-
fore he an.,wered this question. There
were several business men in his church
that would not take such an exhortation
as that kindly. Hut whatever other faults
the Methodist pastor had, he was not want-
ing- in the genuine courage of his convic-
tions,

"Yes, I am ready to do that,'' he said, at
last. "At least, I am ready to exhort them
to give up those habits. 1 have my doubts
about any of them paying any attention to
my requests, however."

"That is another matter," replied Fran-
cis Randall, with a sad smile. He stayed
a little longer, and finally went away with
the feeling that so far as the pastor of the
Methodist Church was concerned, he would
meet with the other pastors of Markham on
the Sunday question.

CHAPTER XVI.
AN INTERVIEW WITH FATHER MORRIS.

1 T H the encouragement
which this interview
brought to him, he pro-
ceeded to call upon every
other pastor in Markham,
and found that every one of
them was practically of the
same opinion in regard to
the necessity for a better Sunday. All of
them, with the exception of the Adventist
brother, agreed to do what Randall asked,
and even he declared that he would not
hinder any movement for the better life
of Markham.

When he had completed his round of the
chi :* ;hes, Eandall reported to John Procter
and Hugh Cameron.

"The fact i,3," he said, after they had dis-
cussed the matter, "the Sunday question, as
it is at present in Markham, is one of the
large planks upon which all the denomina-
tions can and will stand. There is practi-
cal unanimity among the churches as to
the need of taking action together. It is
a common danger to religious life, and re-
quires a common effort against it."

"How about Father Morris?" asked Hugh
Cameron, suddenly.

"What! The Catholic priest?" asked

THE MIRACI.Ii AT MARKUAM

205

Francis llandall, starting and looking
earnestly at the Presbyterian minister.

"I hadn't thought of him," said John
Procter, gravely. They were all three si-
lent a moment. Never in all the history of
Markham, had the Catholic priest taken
any part with any other church, in any
capacity.

"Do you know Father Morris?" asked
Hugh Cameron, turning to Kandall.

"My father knew him quite well. He
once did Morris a great favor. Mother
mentioned it the other day. I'll go and see
him, if you say so, and find out if he will
act with us on the Sunday reform plan."

"It will not do any harm, and may do
much good," said John Procter, thought-
fully. "He has a large influence over some
of the factory people."

"Pll go and see him," said Randall, as he
went away. He did not find time to make
the call until Saturday of that week, and
he approached the priest's house and an-
ticipated the interview with him in a spirit
of greater curiosity and excitement than
he had felt for a long time.

When he was asked, by a servant, to come
in and take a seat in the stuffy little parlor
which was the priest's reception room, he
felt strangely embarrassed by his sur-
roundings.

There was a plaster paris figure of Christ
on the cross, immediately over his head on

2o6

thjs miraci,k at makkham

the wall, and another smaller one of ivory
on a bracket opposite the place where he
sat. Two or three tlusty medallions repre-
senting differeni saints, and a picture of
Mary, hung on the wail at the end of the
room, over a small cabinet of books. The
priest's house was built on the side wall of
the church. J^rancis Randall, sitting there
waiting for Father Morris, could hear the
organ. It was the best organ in Mark-
ham. Its deep pedal notes vibrated through
the building, an3 the little parlor trembled
with the music, which was an old Gregor-
ian chant.

Francis Kundall waited some time before
the priest appeared. When he finally came
into the parlor, Francis rose and faced him,
and even in the short time before eithex*
man spoke, he rapidly traced the features
of the priest, and tried to form some es-
timate of his probable action in the Sun-
day question.

Father Morris was clean-shaven like all
priests. That was a part of his creed. He
wore the dress of the Catholic Church, and
round his neck a slender gold chain, at the
end of which, near his waist, himg a small
white cross. His face was pale, but when
he smiled, which was seldom, it became an-
imated, and even dignified. The opposite is
true of most faces. He was a small man,
and by the side of Kandall he seemed even
smaller.

THE MIRACI^K AT MARKUAM

207

He came slowly iuto the parlor and Fran-
cis waited for him to speak.

"Pardon me, 1 did not understand from
the servant the name?" the priest said with
a stiffness which Kandall could not tell
whether habitual or suited to his feelings
at the time.

"Kandall, Jlev. Francis Itaudall. I am
Dean Murray's assistant, at Grace Cathe-
dral. You knew my father, the Dean,
though I believe we have never happened to
meet before."

"Oh!" the priest said it with a swift and
almost suspicious look at Kandall. "Will
3'ou be seated? Yes, I knew your father,
quite well."

He stopped suddenly, as if he had broken
off a sentence in his mind, and Randall sat
looking at him in some perplexity as to
how he should explain his errand. The
man's attitude was not repellant, but, on
the other hand, neither was it in-
viting.

"I have come on a somewhat singular
errand. Father Morris," he began, slowly.
"But I feel sure you will listen to it kindly,
when I tell you that your church will be the
gainer by what I want to propose to you,
now."

Again that look of suspicion crossed the
priest's face, and he looked at Kandall,
doubtfully.

"It is with reference to the money your

2o8

THK MIRACI«E AT MARKHAM

father, the Dean, loaned me several year»

Ago?"

It was Francis Randall's turn to look
surprised. He knew that his father had
helped the priest at a time of peculiar
diflRculty in Father Morris' affairs. There
were no papers recording the transaction,
except a memorandum of the Dean's which
Francis and his mother had found several
days after the Dean's death. Francis did
not know the singular circumstances under
which the priest obtained the money, nor
how far the acquaintance between his
father and the priest had passed. He only
knew the amoimt of the loan was large, and
had never been paid back.

"No, I did not come to see you about
that," he said, frankly, looking directly at
the priest. "My father had no record,
other than a statement of the fact."

Father Morns looked a little uneasily at
Handall. Then his face cleared, and he
seemed to show, for the first time, his real
nature underneath the Catholic dress and
the chain and cross.

"Mr. Randall," he said with a sincerity
which no one could doubt was genuine,
"years ago your father made me his grace-
ful debtor by the loan of a sura of money
which, to the best of my knowledge, saved
my old mother and two sisters in Limerick,
from sta-rving. It was during the famine
of *76. That money has been saved during

THK MIRACI«E AT MARKHAM

209

all these years, and 1 uow have nearly the
cutire sum and will pay it back to yoU
within a year."

The priest suddenly grew very grave, and
his voice sounded far off. The organ notes
pulsed softly through the wall.

Francis llandall looked at the man in
astonishment. There was more here than
appeared on the surface. But the priest's
story was evidently told. All, at least, that
he was ready to tell.

"It was not the money. 1 appreciate your
effort to repay it. When the time comes,
perhaps you wH' let me know more?" Fran-
cis asked with a gentle courtesy that took
account of the fact that here in the stuffy
little parlor was some romance, some hu-
man tragedy that he had no right, as yet,
to probe into.

"Yes, perhaps," again the priest's tone
was doubtful. But Randall thought it was
relieved by a note of personal sadness.

"I will come at once to my errand with
you," he said, and he was still absolutely
in the dark as to Father Morris' probable
action.

He went on rapidly to tell of the action
already taken by the other ministers and
churches, and ended by saying very
frankly :

"Now, brother," (Randall unconsciously
used the term in his great interest for the
subject), "vnll you throw the weight of

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THE MIRACLE AT MARKUAM

your influence in your church for a better
Sunday in Markham? Will you preach on
the subject?"

It was a significant pause that followed.
Kandall was wondering if Father Morris
liositated because he did not want to seem
to take directions for church work from a
man of another church outsifV of the
Catholic.

"Yes, I am willing to do that," the an-
swer came at last, slowly. "Of course, you
understand, Mr. Randall, we do not hold to
the strict interpretation of Sunday, that
prevails in many Protestant com-
munions?"

"1 have to confess my ignorance largely
of your views," replied Randall with a
smile.

"It makes no difference. I will under-
take to make m.\ people see the needs of
which you speak. There is no question
that many of them are foolishly spending
their time and money in Sunday amuse-
ments."

Francis felt that his point had been
gained, but he ventured one more step.

"Father Morris, when the other church-
es begin very soon, as they are planning to
do, a campaign against the saloon in Mark-
ham, will you and your church join us in
that fight?"

The change that swept over the priest's
face was startling. The lower jaw stif-

TUH MIRACLK AT MARKHAM

211

fened, the hands clenched tight on the arms
of the chair, and the emphasis of his reply
left nothing to be desired on Kaudall's
part.

"So help me (jod, Randall, I will join you
or any other man in common cause against
the drink traffic. Have I not been for years
pleading with my people to let the stuff
alone? Yet not even the power of the
Catholic Church has availed here in this
town, to stay this sin. Is your Protestant
church guiltless of sin in the matter of
licensing and supporting the saloon?"

"No, to our shame be it said," replied
Randall. He was simply astonished at the
priest's answer.

He went out on the street in a conflict
of emotions. The interview haii surprised
him. There \yas more in Father Morris
than he had supposed. Connected with
the loan of the money was some tragic
occurrence deeper even than the one men-
tioned by the piiest. The effort he had
been making all these years to pay the
money back, proved him to be honest. But
the final decision concerning both the Sun-
day and the temperance (juestiona, stirred
Francis Randall and Jolin Procter and
Hugh Cameron to greater hopefulness
They began to see something now of the
dawn of new days for Markham.

It was during the days that followed,
stirring days for Markham, as all the

■^""

"T-

212

THE MIRACI<E AT MARKHAM

churches began the campaign for a better
Sunday, that an incident in the experience
of William Procter must be noted, because
of its ultimate bearing on all the events
that belonged to "The Miracle at Mark-
ham."

Miss Bebecca Phillips sat in the room
next to her father's study one winter
evening, trying to read a recent novel.

The professor was in his study, still
laboring over his notes for the volume on
the Minor Prophets.

It was a wild winter night in Andover.
The snow lay very deep on the hill, and
the wind was tossing the branches of the
great elms out in front of the Seminary
buildings.

The evening mail was late. But at last
the Acadeu'y ^>oy who carried it to the
professors' houses, rang the bell, and Re-
becca answered it.

She came bacft into the sitting room with
a paper. There were no letters.

The postmark was Markham, O. The
hand-writing was Jane Procter's.

Rebecca sat down in front of the open
fire-place and slowly tore oflf the wrapper
and unfolded the paper.

It was The Pyramid Miner, and dated
only a few days back.

She turned at once to the article in the
paper that was marked, and read the fol-
lowing:

THE MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

213

William Procter, who has been assistant su-
perintendent of the Golconda, Sewell's Mill, has
given up his position there, and taken to
preaching.

Rebecca stared at the sentence hard, and
read it again. But there was more.

There has been some trouble at the Gol-
conda between Procter and Sewell. Procter
was one of Rev. Francis Randall's friends,
as was natural, seeing Randall saved his life
at the time of Procter's accident. The cam-
paign begun by Rev. Randall against the
gambling dens of Pyramid, stopped when the
reverend gentleman had a call to his father's
old church in Ohio. William Procter, who
once was a theological student, and expected
to enter the ministry, has taken up his old
fight and begun a series of meetings in Mason's
Hall. So far, they have been crowded. He
has, to our mind, undertaken a big job. But
he seems to have grit and nerve. We say, let
him have fair play, and may the best man
win.

The papi^r's almost brutal indifference to
the results did not, at first, touch Rebecca's
mind. She was sorely agitated by the fact
that William was acutally preaching. Un-
der what conditions and difficulties, she
could only vaguely guess. But the old
quarrel which had resulted in the breaking
of her engagement, seemed to her, undei'
this new movement, to be insufficient. She
had judged Wflliam Procter hastily when
he decided to give up the ministry. She
had jtidged him to be lacking in strength
of decision. And she had a horror of

214

THE MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

vacillating characters. But she had never
ceased to love liim. Would this action on
William's part make possible their union
some time?

She did not take the paper in to show her
father. But she sat by the fire a long- time
with her hands folded on her lap. The
professor's pen scratched away on the
manuscript. The wind roared over the hill.
And Rebecca I^llips looked into the lire
and wondered if the future would bring to
her again the joy that once she knew.

That same winter brought to Francis
Eandall, also, an experience which shaped
his work and decided, in a large measure,
his future.

He had never been so busy. The grow-
ing union of the churches in !Markham had
given him an opportunity to use his powers
in a great variety of ways. He had plunged
into his work of church union with a tre-
mendous energy that helped him, so he
thought, to forget Jane Procter. In real-
ity, he never forgot her. He saw her sel-
dom. But deep down in his heart the old
fire biirned. Tt would not go ont, and all
his struggles did not suflRce to qnench it.

There were, however, times when he grew
absorbed in his writing. Tt was true that
he was writing a book. Tt was one more
attempt on his part to satisfy his ambition
for mental relief. How far he had suc-
ceeded with the book he could not toll. He

THK MIRACLK AT .^lARKHAM

215

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93

I' llpplfl

2l6

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

had never written a long story. He was
very timid of pronouncing judgment on his
own work.

But the book had proved to be absorb-
ing at the time of its writing, at least, and
one night he finished it. It was a novel of
purjjose. He had grown to love his charac-
ters, and with a regret that was excusable,
he wrote the last sentence and after a
fashion said good- by to the hero and hero-
ine whom he had happily married after a
long and difficult series of situations.

He was sitting in his little room, and be-
gfinning to wonder if any publisher would
accept the book, and if so, whether the
public would find it worth reading, when
his mother knocked at the door.

"My dear," she said, as Francis rose and
opened the door and insisted on her com-
ing in and taking the one easy chair in the
room, "have you heard the news from Mr.
Procter's?"

"No, mother," Francis answered, and a
sudden fear clutched at his heart, and he
turned cold and trembling.

"Your father's old friend, Dr. Gilbert,
just stopped to say that Jane is very ill
with typhoid. A sudden and serious case.
Francis, my heart aches for you! Can
even your mother comfort you?"

"No," replied Francis Randall. He looked
with dull eyes at his book, which he had
just finished, and then at his mother, and

■oWTOi-1

THE MIRA0I.1C AT MARKHAM

217

his heart reproached him. Of what value
was his book to him now? Ch' anything
else?

"I did not mean that, mother," he said
after a pause. Then he sat down sudden-
ly, and put his head between his hands.
He rose and his mother was near him. He
kissed her, but did not say a word. He
went out into the hall. It was then 10
o'clock. A great snow-storm was begin-
ning. He put on his coat and hat.

*Tm going over to John Procter's to in-
quire," he said; and went out into the
storm.

CHAPTER XVII.

A MES.SAGE FOR JANE.

HEN Francis shut the
door of his house and
started through that
gathering- snow-storm
towards John Proc-
ter's, the tumult in
his heart and mind
was far greater than
the physical tempest
that howled around
him. Fight against
the feeling as he
might, he knew that
he still loved Jane. The news of her sud-
den and serious illness gripped his heart
with a violence that emphasized the slum-
bering passion of his life, and told him,
that right or wrong, he had not been able
to shut her out as unworthy.

Had he misjudged her? He had given
her no chance to reply to him or defend
lierself from the charge that he had made,
the charge that it was because he was poor
that she would not marry him. How did
he know, after all, that she had not spoken
that one sentence thoughtlessly wi'^out
really meaning it? And yet he had con-
demned her swiftly, at once, and \vithout
leaving her any possible opportunity to de-

THK MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

219

fend herself. Had not her pale face told
of an inward sutferiug- that day he met her,
us she was coming out of school? Might
she not love him iu spite of herself, and be
happy with him yet, in spite of —

lie staggered through the storm with
no definite idea about what he would do
when he reached John Procter's. He was
possessed with a terrible fear that this
woman whom he had never ceased to love,
was dying, and that he had. done her an in-
justice and perhaps missed the happiness
that might have been his with a little more
patience, a little more forbearance.

The light was buraing in John Procter's
study. Bandall went to the side door and
knocked.

John Procter opened the door, and at
sight of Randall he uttered an exclama-
tion of surprise.

Kandall spoke: "I heard that Jane was
very ill — I came to inquire — "

"Come in," said Procter, who understood
at once the situation.

Randall entered the studv, and at once
sat down, and as he had done when his
mother announced the news, he put his
head between Eis hands for a moment. He
then looked up and spoke steadily, looking
John Procter full in the face.

"I hardly need to tell you, Mr. Procter,
that I have loved Jane for several years.
You must know, also, that there has been

220

THE MIRACI<E AT MARKHAM

a misuDdersttincling- betweeu us. I find
that it has not changed my feelings. The
news that she was dangerously ill — "

*'She is dangerously ill,*' repeated John
Procter very gravely.

"Perhaps likely to die — " continued Kan-
dall with a great effort.

"Likely to die," repeated John Procter,
shading his eyes from the light of the
fire.

"Brought me over here tonight. I
don't know that 1 can do anything — " went
on Bandall, desperately. "But I had to
come. Is there no hope?"

"The doctor says there is some hope."

But John Procter spoke without hope,
himself, and Francis Randall was quick to
note his tone.

There was silence between the two men.
The storm outside had increased steadily
in violence.

Mrs. Pi*octer suddenly came into the
study. She greeted Francis without much
surprise. Indeed, the mother knew every-
thing, at least, all except Jane's miserable
secret about that last interview with her
lover. Already in her delirium Jane had
said more than once, "I DO love you,
Francis!" and her mother knew she was
going over the whole scene again.

"Jane has been working very hard in
school, lately," said Mrs. Procter, in an-
swer to some question which Randall in-

■^■■■i

THE MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

221

voluntarily askecl. "When the break-down
came at last, it was very sudden."

John Procter had slipped out of the room.
Francis rose and Mrs. Procter held out both
her hands to him. He took them and Ipld
her what he had told John Procter, ajid
more. Only, he could not tell quite all.
That seemed like Jane*s secret.

Mrs. Procter tried to comfort him. Hut
she was honestly in great perplexity. The
probability of Jane's death increased,
rather than lessened her doubt as to what
she ought to reveal of Jane's remarks in
her unconscious condition.

"Will you tell Jane one thing, Mrs. Proc-
ter?" asked Randall, after a pause. He
hesitated, but went on firmly enough. "If
she recovers consciousness before — before
— the end, will you tell her that I still love
her, that I have not been able to put her
out of my heart?"

"Yes, I will tell her—"

Mrs. Procter promised, with tears run-
ning over her face.

Francis Randall prepared to go out into
the storm.

"The fever vsill have to run its course.
It may be many days before — "

"I will let j'ou know," replied Mrs. Proc-
ter, and Francis Randall went out into the
tempest.

He stopped at the corner, where the snow
blew in masses of drift, and looked back

222

TIIK MIRACI^U AT MARKHAM

at the lififlitc'd upper window, tlu'. sick
room. The. wonmn he loved wa^s there, d.v-
in^, he said. He looked a long" time, care-
less of the storm. Then he slowly went
home, and the whole force of the white
storm seemed to weiff!i him down and add
to his years. For he had lived very much
since his mother told him that Jane l*ioc-
ter was not likely to live.

In the days that followed that niy-ht,
Francis Randall did many thing's, mechan-
ically, from force of habit, as he had
trained himself to do them.

Among- other things he sent his book
to .1 well-known pnblishing firm in New
York, and then forgot all about it. His
interest in the book had died out of him
from that night when he first learned of
Jane's illness. Every day he heard, in
some way, how she was. Mrs. Procter,
obedient to her ]iromise, sent word often
to the Manse. Bnt neither she nor John
Procter knew nntil afterwards, that night
after night Francis Randall went by the
house and stayed long by that same cor-
ner where he had stopped before, looking
lip at the light in the upper room wTierv the
trained nurse was helping Mrs. Procter
battle with the physician for the lii'e that
feebly fluttered and almost went out sev-
eral times in that mysterious period be-
tween 2 and 4 o'clock in the morning,
when so many souls leave their tenement.

THK MJKACI.i': AT MAKfvHAM

THE WHITK STORM SEKMEU TO WEIGH HIM
DOWN."

224

THE MIRACI,E AT MARItTJAM

At last, the crisis came. One night
when the storm broke again over Mark-
ham, and drifted great banks of snow
through the streets, and piled it high over
fences and buildings, the weary watchers
by Jane's bedside noted that change
which marks fhe soul's approach to the
mysterious other world. The forces of the
body and spirit had struggled long for the
mastery. The wan faces of nurse and
mother, the stern sadness of the father
and doctor watched the struggle culmin-
ate. And at last as dawn broke through
the storm, Jane's body, slowly, as if re-
luctant to continue the earthly fight, re-
leased itself from the touch of the last
great enemy, and those who loved her
knew that she would live. When the doc-
tor said that the crisis was passed, and life
had conquered, Mr. and Mrs. Procter broke
down. John l*rocter went into his study.
Mrs. Procter soon followed him there.
And, after a moment of rejoicing together,
they sent word to Francis Randall.

His mother brought him the news, and he
received it in silence. His heart went out
in a great wave of thankful prayer. After
a moment he said, "Mother, God has
spared her for some good reason."

"My son, I pray He has spared her that
you may have Joy again."

"Perhaps, mother," replied Francis.
Nevertheless, during the next few hours

THIS MIRACI<E AT MARKHAM

225

Id he
out

Lfter
has

I that

Incis.
lours

he wondered if Mrs. Procter would tell
Jane what he had asked her to tell in case
Jane had recovered consciousness only to
die. The first time he called at the house
Mrs. Procter told him that she had not
said anything to Jane yet.

"Do you want me to say anything now?"
Mrs. Procter asked, as Randall sat, pale
and troubled, looking at her.

"No, 1 think it would be better, on

the whole, not to—" replied Francis,
slowly.

Then he went back to his work, feeling
that Jane's illness had not really changed
the relations that existed before. It had
emphasized his love for her, it had re-
minded him that she was still the one
woman in all the world to him, but could
he assume any change had happened to
Jane? Could he venture to break the si-
lence, or approach her with any more as-
surance than he had before, that she re-
pented of her decision and was ready to
give her heart to him in spfte of his lack of
wealth?

In this uncertainty, he simply did what
a Ttian of his simple-h^^nriefl nature would
do, he took up his work again, and waited.
If Jane ever changed, ought she not, in
some woy, to let him know it? Could he,
in any case, again presume upon the pos-
sibility that she might love him? It
might place her in a critical position, but.

;■ I

226

THK MIRACr.K AT MARKHAM

somehow, he felt that he must wait for
her to let him know what the future was to
be.

During this time, while Jane was slowly
recovering, word came one day to Francis
Kandall that his book had been accepted by
the publishers. It was a surprise to him.
He had anticipated refusal. The terms
offered him were 10 per cent royalty on all
sales after the first edition had been sold.

He at once wrote, accepting the terms,
revised proof as it was sent to him, and
then, in the time while the book was be-
ing prepared lor the public, he again for-
got it largely, or at least he did not
have any great hopes of its popular suc-
cess.

One reason for this feeling, or lack of
feeling, rare in a young author over his
first book, was due to the events which
made Markham famous that winter. As
he was one of the central figures in all
that remarkable series of movements,
Francis Randall may be pardoned if the ex-
citement of his church work absorbed so
large a part of his best thought and en-
thusiasm.

For the Sraclay reform begun by the
churches, had swept Markham like a fire.
Even the sneering comments of the daily
paper had not been able to stop the tide
that rose and overwhelmed all opposi-
tion.

<"I"P

THE MIRACI<£ AT MARKHAM

227

There had beeu one Sunday when every
church had taken action together. Eight
of the churches had continued the subject in
a series of sermons and addresses. Scores
of the business men who belonged to the
churches, had united in a pledge to keep a
better Sunday. An appeal had been made
successfully, to the PostoflBce Department,
and the office was actually closed on Sun-
day, at last, in spite of the frantic outcry
made by the paper and the editor's whole-
t^ale denunciation of the reform as Puritan-
i< al and bigoted.

Nor was that all. The reforms suggest-
ed by John I'rocter and Hugh Cameron to
their people were gradually taken up by
the people of the other churches, and in
details, Markham's Sunday began to be
talked about in other towns on the same
line of railroad. The women organized
and secured pledges that were kept by
the men. to discontinue their subscriptions
to the Sunday pape^j brought in by the
newspn pfr irain Sunday morning.

Th list of subscribers actually fell off
two-;;hir:s' The man who delivered the
papers fYOn. ii, > train was at once aware
that something had happened, and for the
first time he began to ask questions of
the news dealer who supplied the car-
riers at the sation.

"What's struck your old town?" he asked
thf- ^irst Sunclay morning after the sub-

"lymmmw

228

THE MIRACI«E AT MARKHAM

scription fell off. The train had a little
longer wait than usual, on account of a
hot-box.

"The preachers have been having a go
at the papers," replied the news-dealer
with an oath. ''This blamed reform busi-
ness will be the death of this town if it
goes on. It'll be Sunday all the tim i here,
after awhile, and tliey won't even let you
toot your whistle, t.* fej.r of disturbintT
the Sunday Schools.'

The man on the traiv looked thought-
fully at the other one. He was a married
man, and he had a wife and three children
living in Buffalo. He saw his wife three
times a week, and his children when they
were asleep, and he had not been inside
of a church on Sunday, for six years.

" I wouldn't mind a little reform busi-
ness, myself," he said to himself, as the
train moved away from Markham, to
carry its papers to the next town, where
hundreds of church members were impa-
tiently waiting for their Sundaj' morning
paper, and telephoning to the station to
know why the train was late. And yet we
continue to go to church and listen com-
placently to sermons about the thankful
hearts we ought to have for the privilege
of worship in God's house on the Lord's
Day. Meanwhile, the man who seldom sees
his children, except when they are asleep,
is rushing over the con>tinent on the news-

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKHAM

»29

paper train that our selfishness and theft
of God's time keep moving. Who will be
to blame if that man's soul comes into the
kingdom and up to God's judgment bar
starved and feeble at the last great day?

But the Sunday reform in Markham did
not stop with the Sunday paper and the
postoffice. It began to have an influence in
the family circles, and led to a movement
in which the hired girl question began to
be agitated in a wise and helpful way.

The women in several of the churches
began to discuss in their club and society
meetings, the best way of spending Sun-
day. And this led to an unexpected de-
velopment of the vexed question of help
in the home.

jjtMMWlWM'irtA

CHAPTER XVIII.

'THE MARKHAM PLAN.'

T happened that during
one of these discus-
sions, Mrs. George
Wilson was present.

Mrs. Wilson was
the richest woman in
Markham. She was a
widow, and had one
son who was study-
ing* law in Colarabus. She had been spend-
ing a large part of the year in Columbus
with her son, but had returned to Markham
a few days after Jane had passed the crisis
of her illness.

Mrs. Wilson was a member of the Epis-
copal Church, and one of its most liberal
givers. She had known and respected Dean
Randall, and was one of the members w^lio
had supported him during the days of his
trouble before the trial. At the same
time, she was regarded as the social lead-
er in Markham, and a woman of very great
influence.

"I'll tell you my opinion of the Sunday
question, so far as my girls are concerned,"
said Mrs. WMlson, after the discussion had
become very animated.

"I keep a cook and a general house maid
as you all know." Mrs. Wilson was an

THK MlRACnR AT MARKHAM

231

imusiially frank woman in the disclosure
of her hoiiaehoTd affairs, "anrl they are
both German girls, and very religious.
That does not mean that they are necessar-
ily over-pious, but I've noticed that very
often the people that hire help are not
half so Christian as the help they hire.
That's not the subject, perhaps. But
Sundays I have always tried to make an
easy day for the girls, so that they could
go to church as much as I do. I used to
give special dinners on Sunday, invite in
half a dozen friends and have an extra
social time of if, but I was cured of that by
a girl I had about that time. She made
me ashamed of the practice, and T've given
it up. Tell you about it, some time. A
good many chui'ch members make their
girls in the kitchen work harder Sundays
than any other day. It's a great mistake
to have Sunday company. My idea is if
you treat the hired girl right, you will gen-
erally get right treatment in return.
That has been my experience."

A storm of protest aro^e over this last
sentence. Not even Mrs. Wilson's good-
natured superiority of leadership could
drown the loud denial on the part of other
ladies to the effect that time and again
they had treated their girls in the most
generous and Christian manner, and had
repeatedly been met with ingratitude, a
breaking" of promises, and general lack of

232

THE miracl,e; at markham

appreciation of favors extended by the
mistress.

Finally some one appealed to Mrs. Mur-
ray, the wife of the Dean, for her opinion.

Mrs. Murray was a gentle, modest wom-
an, slow to express herself, not because
she lacked character, but because she had
a very deep respect for more positive na-
tures than her own. When she did
speak, however, she had a hearing, and her
opinion carried weight.

"I have been thinking," she said, tim-
idly, "that this vexed hired girl question
will never be settled to any one's satisfac-
tion, until the Christian house-keepers and
the Christian girls who work, come to-
gether to discuss the whole matter on a
purely Christian basis. If we could get
all the Christian women in Markham to
meet with all the Christian hired girls in
the town for a mutual discussion of how
best to better matters on both sides, I be-
lieve it would do a great deal of good."

It was surprising to notice what a hush
fell over the company at this proposition.
It was, perhaps, even more surprising to
many that Mrs. Wilson approved of it.

"I'll be one to start some kind of an or-
ganization like that, to bring mistress and
maid together for the good of both sides.
I'm not a very good Christian, but T be-
lieve Mrs. Murray has suggested the only
real solution for the difficulty," Mrs. Wil-

th« miraclb at markham

233

son said with a positive strength thai
added wonderfully to the gentle, quiet
opinion of the Dean's wife.

They talked the matter over for a long
time. And before they went home, the
women of that club circle, numbering some
of the most influential women in Mark-
ham, had taken the first steps towards a
reform of the family life that changed the
habits and revolutionized the customs of
hundreds of homes, not only in Markham,
but also throughout the country. What
they did, and how it was done, are all a
part of "The Miracle at Markham," and
will be told in its place, but it was simply
part of that tremendous movement for
Christian union, which unconsciously was
overturning old traditions and making
impossible again the old and useless cus-
toms of a lifeless creed. The only creed
that is worth anything, is the one that is
lived. Markham, for the first time, was
beginning to live its religious convictions,
and the inevitable result was a vivifying of
ALL its habits.

It would be neglecting the largest source
of the power that made all this transform-
ing in the life of Markham possible, if we
failed to describe the special series of
prayer services that became suca a feature
of Markham's religious life that winter,
that in a short time they became known as.
"The Markham Plan."

...iii^ji

^•1

234

THI^ MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

It« very simplicity and directness ap-
pealed to the best people iu all the church-
es, from the time that the revival, begun
in John Procter's and Hugh Cameron's
Union Church, began to make its influence
felt in every church.

The plan, in brief, was as follows:

The town of Markham was regularly
built up in squares, each sq" re containing
an average of about twenty-five houses. It
was found after a careful canvass of the
facts by John Procter, that at least two-
thirds of the people in each block belonged
to some church in Markham. Out of that
number could be found, in nearly every
case, some earnest man or woman who
could be depended upon, particularly un-
der the religious impulse that prevailed, to
take the lead in organizing the whole block
in which he lived into a series of evening
prayer meetings, held in turn in every
house in the block. In other words, the
Christian people in each block in Markham
were organized t"hat winter to do house-to-
house work in the locality nearest to them,
not going outsfde of the square in which
they, themselves, lived.

The result of this simple but very defin-
ite and hand-to-hand religious work, soon
began to show itself.

The first immediate result noticeable,
was a drawing together of the people who
lived in the same square. Entering a

THE M1RACI.K AT MARKUAM

235

ueighbor's houise, to call upon him or even
to eat with him, may not have much effect
in drawing jjeople together in real sym-
pathy or in purpose. But the minute
neighbor begins to pray with neighbor,
there is apt to be a closer, tenderer feeling.
The religious feeling in men is deeper than
any other.

So it came to pass that winter in Mark-
ham that people who had lived for years
in the same block without really knowing
one another, became acquainted on a re-
ligious basis. The result of that acquaint-
ance grew in meaning as the winter went
by.

Another immediate result was the inevit-
able blotting out of old sectarian lines.
In some squares in Markham, John Proc-
ter, in the midst of his census of the town,
had found members of all the different
churches. The moment the prayer meet-
ings began, the house-to-house gatherings
of necessity brought all the neighbors to-
gether on a prayer equality. They discov-
ered, as they went from house to house,
that there was seldom anything sectarian
said in a prayer. Almost all honest pray-
ers are purely Christian. Men do not praj^
"baptism" or "apostolic succession," or
other peculiar tenets of denominational
belief. At least, they do not when moved
as the people of Markham were moved by
the Holy Spirit that winter. The peti-

•ki!

mmm

236

THK MIRACI^H AT MARKHAM

lions were cries for more of the Christian
graces, longings for the conversion of way-
ward sons and careless daughters, wives
beseeching for their husbands who were
out of the church, teachers asking for wis-
dom to lead their classes into the kingdom.
There is no sectarianism \n such prayers
as those. Even Father Morris did not for-
bid his Catholic parishioners from attend-
ing these meetings. More than one devout
Catholic opened his doors when the turn
came to his own house, and for the first
time in Markham's history the Catholic
neighbors in many of the squares, kneeled
down by their Protestant neighbors and
appealed to the same God for a better
life. It was significant that while the
priest himself never appeared at any of
these gatherings, he never was known to
oppose, outwardly, the attendance of his
own church members. Nothing less than
the profound moving of the Holy Spirit
made such a fact possible.

Another marked result of the "praying
squares," as they came to be known, in-
stead of "Prayer Circles," was the gain
made in a certain concentration of relig-
ious energy to certain fixed, and in one
sense, narrow limits. No weather was so
stormy that the people could not with com-
parative ease get together when they
simply moved from one house to another
in the same square, without crossing any

THE M1RACI«E AT MARKUAM

237

streets. It was ronmrked more than once
that winter that while Markhara had more
than the usual u umber of severe storms,
the prayer meetings were not materially
altected by them. For the first time
within the knowledge of Markham church
members, the weather did not enter into
their calculations about a good prayer
meeting.

A stranger to the story of Markham
cannot understand all that happened there
that winter and the following year, unless
he understands the quiet but transform-
ing influence of these "praying stiuares."
It is because of this fact that they have
been described somewhat in detail. It is
doubtful if all the preaching in Markham
from the pulpft on Sundays did as much
to revolutionize the denominational senti-
ment as the prayer meetings. The Mir-
acle at Markham was possible because the
element of ])rayer was put into the prob-
lem of making a better town. More than
once, John Procter and Hugh Cameron
and Francis Randall confessed that many
of the things they tried to do would have
been impossible if the Spirit had not
moved all through the town in the "pray-
ing squares" of Markham.

So as the winter was drawing to its
close, and spring was nigh, Markham be-
gan to realize that it was entering upon a
new and imusual life. The Sunday re-

mmm

238

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKHAM

form had surprised every one, no one
more than the disgusted newspaper men
and small tradesmen of Markham. The
churches had, to their surprise, also found
that they had a common meeting ground
in the purity of the Sabbath. It was no
unusual thing for John Procter, Charles
Harris, Capt. Andrews, of the Salvation
Army, Francis Randail and Eev. Lawrence
Brown, the Methodist minister, to speak
from the same platform at a union meet-
ing in which the Sunday question was dis-
cussed from all sides.

But as the winter passed away, the need
grew more imperative for a better daily
paper. A paper owned and controlled by
the churches, was the ideal that John
Procter constantly held up to the people.
He finally succeeded in gaining over to his
view nearly every pastor in Markham.
The idea was a new one, but its very orig-
inality appealed to the church people.

"We need such a paper," John Procter
would say, "before we can make any suc-
cessful fight against the saloons in Mark-
ham." He pointed out the fact, repeated-
ly, that the only daily that Markham had
was committed wholly to the saloon ele-
ment. He also emphasized the need of a
paper in the homes of Markham, that
would represent, at least, as Christian a
life as the churches.

"If the daily paper is tearing down six

THE MIRACIvE AT MARKHAM

239

days in a week, a great part of what the
preachers are trying- to build up one day,
how much headway can we make against
the saloon or any form of evil? We must
have some DAILY voice of Christian con-
victiOi) sounding in the ears of our people
to supplement the words we speak to them
from the pulpit."

So John Procter kept saying, and many
of the business men of Markham began to
respond. A canvass began for funds to
organize a daily paper which should be
owned and controlled by Christian peo-
ple. The church members of Markham
were made to feel that they were to be the
supporters of such a paper.

The ministers of the churches made this
canvass themselves, or delegated it to
some of the best of their members. Dean
Murray and Francis Randall both entered
into the plan with a cordial spirit. The
Dean was cautious but kindly in his at-
titude. Randall was enthusiastic about it.
Frequently he talked with the Dean about
it, and the older man smiled a little, but
said nothing to oppose the movement.

Francis Randall, therefore, made a can-
vass, personally, of Grace Cathedral par-
ish, to secure subscriptions for the first
Christian daily of Markham. Tt was to
be called "The Markham Union."

He was jtist st.arting out one afternoon
to see Mrs. George Wilson. The wini or

^-immmm

240

THE miraci^e; at markham

was over, and the spring- had really come
at last. He was feeling better than he
had once thougnt possible, after the most
severe winter's work he had ever known.
Somehow, he seemed to think all would
come right between Jane and himself after
all. He had not seen her often, had not
spoken to her, but the few times he had
caught glimpses of her she seemed to be
recovering her health and beauty. Once
at a social gathering his eyes had met
hers, and she had blushed and turned pale
again. Was it possible she had discovered
the facts about his coming to the house
■while she was ill? Surely, Mrs. Procter
could not keep all that secret from her.

He went out, and as he passed the post-
office, he went in for his mail. Among
the letters was one from his New York
l)ublishers, that brought the color to liis
cheeks and started his pulse beating fast:

Rev. Francis Randall, MarHham, O. :

Dear Sir— Your book has today passed its
fifth thousand, and orders are coming In rap-
idly. The outlook now is very promising for
a large and popular sale. We have ordered
another five thousand at once from tlie prin-
ter. Telegraph us if you have any suggestions
to make as to changes in preface or cover de-
sign. We congratulate you on your success.

Very truly yours,

Francis Randall would have been less or
or more than human if he had not been
thrilled at the receipt of this letter. An

THE MIRACI.E AT MARKHAM 24I

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE RANDAM.
FELT A PASSION OF ALMOST HATRED."

mmm

242

THE MIRACLE AT MARKUAM

author's first book is like nothing else in
his aflEections. The possibility of what he
had written going beyond a first little
edition had never occurred to him. He
was rarely modest for a man, and had no
exalted ideas of his abilities as a writer.
But he was pleased. He read the letter
over again and again. As he lifted his
eyes from it the last time, he saw Jane
coming up the street again, coming from
her school. This time she was not aloiic.
A young man was walking by her, and
as the two passed Randall, Jane's face
burned. The young man returned Ran-
dall's greeting, courttiously, and passed on,
still talking earnestly to Jane.

For the first time in his life the Episco-
pal clergyman felt blaze up in him a pas-
sion of almost hatred. He knew Mrs. Wil-
son's son, Mark, the young lawyer in Co-
lumbus. He did not know anything but
good of him, but at that moment he had
an agony of suspicion at the thought of
Mark Wilson and Jane together.

"She has given me her answer, though,"
he kept saying to himself, as he doggedly
went on toward Mrs. Wilson's. *'The
other man has money enough. Or his
mother has for him. If she wants to
marry for money, evidently she has an
opportunity."

So, Francis Randall, love is not blind
when it comes to seeing the marks of it in

tan MIRACI<K AT MARKUAM

243

other people's faces? It was with the
nearest approach to bitterness of spirit
that he had ever felt, that he rang the bell
at Mrs. George Wilson's and was ushered
into the parlor.

Mrs. Wilson was genuinely glad to see
him. She had been a firm friend of his
father, the Dean, and one of his heartiest
supporters in all the financial part of the
church work.

Francis presented the matter of the pro-
posed Christian daily, and was going into
details when Mrs. Wilson stopped him.

"You needn't say any more. I believe in
all that. Put me down for a thousand
dollars, and when you want more, call
again."

Francis thanked her, and after a few
common-place remarks, he rose to go.

"Wait a minute, Mr. Randall, won't
you?" asked Mrs. Wilson with a little em-
barrassment of manner unusual to her.
"I want to ask your advice about Mark."

"Yes?" said Randall, sitting down again,
and feeling vaguely that something like a
crisis had come for him. But he did not
feel able to put it into words.

"The fact is, that Mark is desperately in
love with Jane Procter. He has been in
love a good many times, but this time he
is completely swept away. I don't know
that I blame him. She is the prettiest
and most sensible girl ki Markham. I'll

244

THE MIRACLE AT MARK«AM

do anything I can to help Mark. He
hasn't seen her very much, only about two
weeks, lately. He thinks her father and
mother are not very favorable to him.
Could you use your influence in any way
with them? My heart is bound up in
Mark. I would do anything in the world
for him. You know he will have all I have
when I'm gone. He has all he wants now,
for that matter."

Mrs. Wilson had talked on in her usual
rapid fashion, wholly absorbed in the sub-
ject, and not noticing Randall's face.
She now turned towards him, smiling.
She was astonished at what she saw in his
face. And she was still more astonished
at his reply, when he finally spoke.

•w^m

CHAPTER XIX.

"WHAT THE KING SAID."

iRS. Wilson," said Francis
Randall looking straight
at her, and speaking, as his
habit was, slowly, "I can-
not do what you ask, for
the reason that I love Jane
Procter myself."

Mrs. Wilson stared at him

in astonishment. It was

some time before she could say a word.

But the man's face was eloquent of the

truth.

"Of course, I know nothing of all this,
Mr. Eandall," at last she said carefully.
"You know I have been away from Mark-
ham a great deal, and no one ever hinted
such a thing to me."

It was true that Francis' romance had
escaped the notice of the gossips in almost
a, miraculous manner. But the absence of
Randall in Pyramid, his apparent indiffer-
ence to Jane when he returned to Mark-
ham, and a complete silence on the part of
the two families had resulted in the ab-
sence of all talk about the matter. Mrs.
Wilson had no suspicion of the facts until
now.

"At the same time," continued Francis,
while his face grew pale under his emo-

.,m

"•"TPBBIfP

246

THE MIRACIvK AT MARKHAM

tion, "I ought to tell you that 1 have no
reason to hope that Miss Procter will
ever — "

He stopped suddenly, and Mrs. Wilson
liniiL'^hed the sentence silently. She was be-
ginning to feel the fact that this man's
one romance might also be his life tragedy.

For a long time neither of them spoke.
Then Mrs. Wilson said, speaking very
gravely:

"Neither of us can prevent my son from
trying to win Jane Procter. Mark is al-
ready in love with her. He has told me
that he means to ask her to be his wife. 1
am sure he will do this before he returns
to Columbus next week. Even the knowl-
edge of your love for her would make no
difference with him. In fact, I believe it
would only hasten his action."

Francis Randall looked up. "It is for
her to choose. As you say, your son is
rich. He is also attractive and successful
in his profession. What more could a
woman ask?"

He spoke proudly, but there was a bitter-
ness in his tone that Mrs. Wilson inter-
preted right. She was a shrewd woman of
the world, and it did not take much in-
sight for her to discover a large part of
Francis Randall's secret.

"I do not need to say that I regret, — I, —
can I offer sympathy — "

"Xo, I want no sympathj-," said Randall,

THE MIRACIyE AT MARKHAM

247

the warm blood rushing into his palo
cheeks. "The only thing-,— you see how
impossible it would be loi' nie to — "

"Of course, 1 see that. How could 1
know. If Mark succeeds, he — "

"He succeeds on his own merits. That
is all," said Francis, rising. Mrs. Wil-
son pitied him at that moment. If there
had been any way in which she could have
helped him, it is possible she would have
done it, even at the cost of opposing her
son's ambitions.

"You will, of course, respect my secret?"
said Randall with quiet dignity.

"I will as if it were sacred to my own
son," replied Mrs. Wilson, and Kandall
went out, leaving a very much perplexed
and astonished and saddened woman.

Once out on the street he had time to
think over the whole matter. He walked
about until it was dark. The picture of
Jane and Mark Wilson together, stood out
vividly before Elm. He was torn with pas-
sion, and tormented at the thought of
Jane's probable reply to the rich young
lawyer. In spite of the fact that he had
repeatedly said that Jane's answer in his
own case was final and that they could
never again be anything to each other, he
went through a perfect agony of fear at
the thought of another man winning her.

"If she acceptvS Mark Wilson," he said,
as he finally went home, "I shall know it is

248

THE MIRACI^E AT MARKKA M

because she loves wealth more than love, —
and then, — 1 shall learn to despise instead
of love her. If she rejects him, I shall
know that possibly there is hope for me —
and then — "

He walked quietly into his study with-
out letting his mother know that he was
home. As he took off his overcoat, he
felt the letter he had received that after-
noon, announcing the success of his first
book.

He took the letter out and threw it down
on his desk. It meani less than nothing
to him at this moment. And in the ex-
citement and unrest of his feelings, he
sat down, and laying hia head on the desk
with his face touching the letter that pre-
dicted his coming fame as an author, he
groaned in spirit over his love for Jane.
Ah! Fame! How powerless thou art to take
the place of love! A very empty thing by
the side of the heart's deep longing for
that which alone satisfies the heart.

The next few days were days of inde-
scribable uncertainty to Francis Randall.
More than o: ce he met Jane and Mark
Wilson on the street. Each time Jane be-
trayed the greatest confusion. She had
not been able to avoid Wilson, and in fact,
all Markham was soon in possession of his
secret. He did not attempt to disguise
or hide his love for her. All the gossips in
Markham were talking about the two. It

THK MTRACI,K AT MARKHAM 249

was the general opinion that Jane would
marry him. Indeed, it was asserted that
they were already engaged, and that ac-
counted for the fact that they were seen
so often in each other's company.

Saturday of that week, as Francis Ran-
dall was going home from a conference
with Hugh Cameron, he passed by Mrs.
Wilson's. She saw him going by. and
tapped on the wlndow^ and beckoned him
to come in.

When he entered, he saw at once what
she had to say.

"Mark has gone back to Columbus," she
began with a sad smile, and yet she had a
feeling of pleasure also for this other man.
*'He received his answer. Jane Procter re-
fused him."

Francis Randall experienced a feeling of
relief that was indescribable in its effect
on the tension of his heart and mind.

"Of course," continued Mrs. Wilson, "I
do not expect you to offer me any sym-
pathy under the circumstances. It is a
hard blow for Mark. Tt will take him a
long time to get over it. T can't blame you
for the way you must feel now."

"Tt is diflRcult for me to express myself,
Mrs. Wilson. T am still — "

In fact, Francis was in the dark largely
as to Jane's motives in refusing to accept
Mark Wilson. Only tuN much was clear.
She had positively refused an offer of

"mmtm

3S0

THIi MIUACMi AT MARKHAM

marriago from a rich man. So, after all,
money aJone t'oiild not satisfy her.

Sayinj»' this o\nv lo liimself, Francis
Kandall went lionie, and with the begin-
ning of tlie old iiope a|;>ain lie faced his
future. Should lie speak to Jane again?
Had she not told him plainly enough by
her action in sending Mark Wilson away,
that she might listen to the other lover
once more?

The following week he hesitated several
times in the midst of his work and did not
know what he ought to do. Once he had
met tTane on the street. The blush on her
face was significant. When he passed as
before, gravely, and without any other
recognition excejjt the lifting of his hat,
Jane's face changed from its rush of color
to a paleness that made Randall feel a self-
reproach he could not drive away. After
he had passed her a few steps, he did what
he had never done before He turned
around and looked at her. As he did so,
Jane, also, as she turned from the main
street into the one leading to her home,
looked back at him. Then she hurried on
faster than ever, and he went on slowly
to his study, more tossed about in his mind
than he had been before.

The next morning he received a letter
from his publisher in New York, urging
him to come on and confer about the writ-
ing and publishing of future books. He

THK MIRAClyE AT MARKIIAM

251

felt the need of a little ehauge after the
hard winter's work, and also hoped that
during" the time he wa« away he might
come to some right conclusion as to his at-
titude towards Jane, and that night he
took the express tor New York.

The next day Mrs. Procter called at the
Manse on some busineas belonging to the
churches, and while there learned of Fran-
cis' departure.

"I suppose his book has been very suc-
cessful, hasn't it?" she asked Mrs. llan-
dall.

"Yes, it has been a wonderful success,
according to the publishers," replied Mrs.
Randall, proudly. "And by the way, Fran-
cis left a copy here for Mr. Procter. He
was going to take it over. Will you give
it to him?"

Mrs. Procter had not yet seen the book,
and took it home. She could not help no-
ticing Jane's look when her father took
the book and read the title: "What the
King Said."

"It's a queer title," John Procter re-
marked as he turned the leaves. Like
every one else who saw it, he was curious
to know what the book was about.

"It has had a wonderful sale already,"
said Mrs. Procter, and again she noted
fine's strange expression.

"Yes," continued John Procter a littlo
absent-mindedly as he turned back to the

a52

TIIU MlKACMi AT MAKKIIAM

beginning uf (lu> book anti bognn to rriid,
"1 tsnppoMO l^iuuliill will niako more thiiu
most authors make, on aeeonnt of the un-
usnal sale."

"Yoii tlon't think he will make his for-
tune, <lo .yonV" Mrs. I'roeter asked, looking
furtively at .lane.

"It's possible, I wnppose," replied Mr.
I'roeter. reading on.

.lane rose and went ojit of the room, ap.i!
Mi's. I'roeter seemed <listnrbed over some-
thing, but <litl not venture to in^erruj, t lier
husband vviio was already ileep in the open-
ing ehapter.

The next day when he eame in frouj his
l)arish work, he <*ould not thul the book
whieh he had left on his study t^ible. He
asked his wife where it was, and she said
she thought .lane had taken it. And, in
faet. at that moment .lane, in hei- room,
where she had goi\e immediately after
sehool, was absorl)ed in the story. More
than onee her eyes tilled with tears. Once
she laid the book down and put her faee
in hei" hands with the gesture familiar to
her. Then she opened the book and went
on eagerly. This man, onee lier lover, was
farther from her m)w than ever, lie had
written a sueeessful book. He was grow-
ing not only famous, but probably rich.
ICven if in some way she were to let him
know that she eared more for his love than
for all the money in the world, how eould

THR MPRACUJ AT MAKKHAM

^53

'VOU X)0 NOT IHINK UK WILL MAKI-. IIIS lOR-
TUNE, DO YOU?' "

254

THH MIRACI,H AT MARKHAM

he be sure that she was not now attracted
by his probable fame and wealth?

So she sat reading on, her heart divided
between admiration for the storj' and love
for its author and uncertainty concerning
the future. And of all the interested read-
ers who that year acknowledged the fas-
cination of the new book, "What the King
Said," it is safe to say none devoured its
pages with the emotion that was felt by
Jane Procter.

It was during Francis Randall's absence
in New York, that the movement for the
better relation between house-keepers and
servants began in Markham.

The movement belongs to the entire up-
ward life of Markham, and in the history
of "The Miracle at Markham," it can be
traced to the union of the Christians in
their efforts to better the general condi-
tion of the town's life.

Mrs. George Wilson, with her usual en-
ergy, assisted by Mrs. Murray and other
women in the different churches met, and
after long discussion together finally
called a meeting of all the Christian girls
who were at service in ^Markham.

It was doubted at first by a few of the
housekeepers whether there were any pro-
fessing Christians among the hired girls.
A careful canvass of the matter, however,
revealed the fact that there were a good
many, who not only belonged ta different

THK MIRACLK AT MARKUAM

255

churches, but were liberal givers to churcii
expenses, aud especially in the Catholic
Church, devout attendants whenever their
time w^ould allow.

So it came about that one afternoon the
first of a series of meetings began in Mrs.
George Wilson's house, that for real re-
sults astonished every one, and not least
of all, the very women who originated the
plan.

At that first gathering there were pres-
ent fifteen house-keepers and as many
girls. Mrs. Wilson, with an instinctive
knowledge of her lack of ability to do cer-
tain things right, with a wisdom that was
of a high order in its tact aud far-sighted-
ness, insisted on Mrs. Murray's presenta-
tion of the proposed plan of conference be-
tween mistress and maid. So it came to
pass that the one woman in all Markham
who was best fitted by her gentle Christian
manner and life, was the first one to bring
the subject of Christian housekeeping to
the minds and hearts of that little gather-
ing.

She proposed a very simple but effective
plan of conference first. It was taken for
granted that they had come together on
the ground of a common desire to better
the relations between the housekeeper and
the servant in the family circle. On that
basis, it w-as necessary for both sides to
speak with the utmost frankness, and con-

•WTC^

256

tHH MIRACI^E AT MARKUAM

i'er together lovingly about the smallest
details that made up the life of the
1 ome.

In accordance with this plan, one of the
housekeepers and one of the girls were
asked to prepare for the next meeting, a
series of answers to the question, "What
are some of the greatest needs In the ser-
vice of a home?" The housekeeper to
speak for her side of the question, the girl
to speak for hers. A general discussion
on both sides to follow.

It was astonishing to note the results
that came at once from this preliminary
meeting. When the girls went away they
walked in groiij)s back to their different
homes, talking over the coming meeting.
The women at Mrs. Wilson's were no less
impressed with the value of the step taken.
Yet not even Mrs. Wilson, with all her
characteristic enthusiasm, could measure
the significance of the movement begun in
her own house.

"It will succeed because it is on the basis
of Christian conference for mutual helj)-
fulness," Mrs. Murray finally said in reply
to one timid woman's doubt as to how the
meetings would end. And she was wholly
right. No other solution of such a ques-
tion as that of the right relation of mis-
tress and servant can be found except at
the heart of a mutual desire on both sides
to do the Christian thing.

•WW

THE MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

257

There is also another important change
which occurretl in the cliurch life of Mark-
ham that spring, which needs to be re-
corded in this place.

In the coming conflict vvliich was being
prepared against the saloon in Markham,
John Procter and Hugh Cameron wisely
decided to use, in every possible way, the
young people of the Union Church. But
in organizing tliem for the coming cam-
paign, they soon made the discovery that
by far the largest part of the young peo-
ple in Markham attended the Methodist
and Baptist Churches. In talking over the
situation, John Procter said:

"Now, Brother Cameron, what do you
think about making an appeal to Brother
Brown and BrotLer Harris, and urge them
to swing their young people's societies in-
to line with the Ende ivor movement? We
find, by a careful canvass, that Brown Ras
seventy-five people in his Epworth League
and Harris has fifty in his Baptist Union.
We have forty members in our li^ndeavor
Society. The Lutherans have thirty. The
United Presbyterians have twenty. The
Cumberland Presbyterians have fifteen.
The Free-Will 13aptists have ten. If Har-
ris and Brown will throw the weight of
their young ])eople'H societies into lin"
with all the rest, we can do a great work
for the Christian paper and tlie cause of
temperance."

mmm^

258

run MIRACI^H AT MARKHAM

Hugh Camerou was very thoughtful for
awhile.

"Do you think there is any probability
that the Methodists and Baptists will do
such u. thing?"

"I know this much," replied John Proc-
ter, with a smile, "that we have been sur-
prised beyond measure at the miracle al-
ready wrought in Markham. ,Who can
tell what we shall yet enjoy of the Spirit's
power? 1 am sure from something I heard
Brother Harris say the other day, that he
realizes, as never before, the great value of
church union for Christian work."

"Will you talk with him about this union
of the yoimg people?"

"Yes, if you will interview Brother
Brown about his Epworth League."

"I'll do it," replied Hugh Cameron.

CHAPTER XX.

<X^

THE PROFESSOR VISITS PYRAMID.

HE result of these two inter-
views was surprising, even
to John Procter, who in the
history of the "Miracle at
Markham," already had ex-
perienced some very unusual
things in his church life.

Charles Harris listened
quietly to John Procter's
suggestions about disband-
ing his Baptist Union and re-organizing on
the basis of Christian Endeavor, and when
Procter was through, he astonish»»d him
by saying:

"I have been on the point, several tim» .<?
this winter, of talking with you about this.
Why should our young people be divided in
the plans and purposes and studies of
their religious life, when they are all to-
gether in their school and social life? I
will arrange my society in such a way as
to co-operate with all the others. If it is
thought best, I will join Brother Brown
in re-organizing on the basis of Christian
Endeavor. Your societies were first or-
ganized. Ours are not essentially differ-
ent, and for the sake of the closest pos-
sible union of effort, I am willing to make
the outward change of organization."

^IHP

260

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

John Procter could not conceal his emo-
tion. The tears came into his eyes as he
grasped Harris' hand.

"This would have been impossible, Bro.
Procter, a year ago. Do you know, I be-
lieve I have been converted by the 'pray-
ing squares' this winter."

"We have all been wonderfully blessed
by the presence of Christ," replied John
Procter, softly.

He reported to Hugh Cameron, and
found that his colleague had, practically,
the same report to make of his interview
with the Methodist pastor. He had hinted
at some difficulty with his Presiding Elder
and his Bishop, but thought that it would
not be insurmountable.

"The fact is," said Hugh Cameron.
"Brother Brown spoke of the necessity of
all Christians, old and young, uniting to
drive out the saloon. I think that argu-
ment is the one that ha» mont influence
with him. He said he could easily agree
with all the rest of us that as long as
there is a lack of union even on the part of
a part of the church, we could not carry
on a successful fight against the whisky
power.'*

So the young people of Markham in time
came together in their religious life. ^Vhat
once seemed absolutely impossible, be-
came possible on account of the gentle
softening influence of the Spirit of Power

the: miraci^k at markham

261

that moved through the town. Men's
hearts were larger. They saw the king-
dom with a wfder vision. They drew
nearer together as they saw more clearly
the nature of the conflict they were about
to wage with one of the greatest enemies
of the home and the church and the
world.

All this was not accomplished at once.
There were many ste])R to take before
such a movement could possibly be real-
ized. There was o])position in both the
Methodist and the Baptist Church to the
jjroposed changes. But they finally did
succeed in rallying most of the older peo-
ple, and all of the young men and women
around the work of combining with every
other Christian in Markham against the
saloon.

It was during this period, and while
Francis Randall was still absent in New
York, that William Procter, out in Pyra-
mid, fought his great fight and came to
know the stress and bitterness of standing
almost alone in a good cause.

All the experience he had from the time
he left the mill and took up the work that
Kandall had begun, was telling upon him
in many ways. He was. of necessity, ex-
ceedingly conscientious, or he would never
have attempted a work so exacting, so un-
expected in one sense even to one as strict
with himself as he was. He was living on

262

THK MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

the earning-s of his pay as superintendent
of the mill, but that would soon be gone,
and then he must find some means of
keeping- out of debt.

Meanwhile he found himself borne along
into the work of reform in a manner
strange to himself. His meetings which
he had advertised by small dodgers scat-
tered over the camp, were thronged. Mr.
Clark, the rr'nister who had befriended
Ilandall, came to William's assistance
nobly, but before the public meetings had
been running three days he was stricken
down with a serious illness and after that,
William carried on the fight almost alone.

Almost the entire sentiment of the camp
was against him, the only paper printed in
Pyramid while not openly opposed to the
meetings, concealecl its indifference to the
result under a sneer that gave the im-
pression readily of support for the gam-
bling element, and William faced the fact or"
a whole community that was so used to
the gambling habit and so swayed by its
unholy passion that the puritan fierceness
of attack made upon it by this young man
from the east roused all the worst antag-
onism of the ignorant and the vicious.
Nevertheless, with a dogged persistence
that characterized his father, he went on
with his meetings. He had at least an au-
dience. As long as people came, he was
determined to ])reach to them.

THK MIRACl,?: AT MARKHAM

263

For the first time since he had left the
Seminary, he felt at peace with himself.
Whenever he thought of Rebecca IMiillipa
he could not crowd down a feeling of hope.
He had not heard a word from her during
all his illness. That telegram that had
come so unexpectedly had been all. Would
he ever see her or hear from her again?
He asked the ciuestion many times, even
during the excitement of his meetings,
and while he found no answer, somehow
he lived in hope, a vague but none the less
a real hope, that Rebecca would some time
be his again.

At this time in William's experience, and
while that interest in his meetings was at
its height, Professor Elias Phillips came
into the sitting room of his house in An-
dover with a letter, a part of which he
read to Rebecca.

"It seems," he went on commenting on
the letter, "that the mines at Capstone are
beginning to develop unexpected ore. The
shares I bought there years ago, are now
above par. The superintendent of the
'Gem' writes me to come on if I can, and
investigate matters a little. Then there
are the mines in Pyramid that have been
in the courts so long. There is a matter
of witnessing, and so on, and he says it
would be well if I could come on in person
and see to my interests on the ground. T
have been thinking — " The professor re-

j64

THK MIRACLK AT MARKHAM

moved his specttu^h's and looked thoiiglit-
fully at Ilobecea, "I have been thinkini^f it
would be best to make the trip, and 1 have
been wondering if you would care to po
with me."

Rebecca looked up at her father, and her
face burned. What would William think
if she should suddenly appear in Pyramid?
Jiut, on the other hand, why should she
not go, if she wanted to? She was very
proud, this daughter of the Professor of
Old Testament history in Andover, and she
had been in the habit generally of doing
what her imperious will dictated.

"We can go during the spring vacation.
That begins next week. I should very
much like to have you go with me, Re-
becca," said the professor, and at no time
either then or afterwards, did he hint at
the fact of William Procter as being any-
where in existence.

"I'll go with you, father," Rebecca an-
swered slowly.

When the day came for them to start,
she was conscious of a certain exhileration
of manner that was new to her. But she
had no presentiment of the strange cir-
cumstances under which she was to meet
William Procter again.

They went to Capstone first, and after
staying two days on the business of the
mines, they took the train for Pyramid.

The two camps were not far apart, and

THK MIRACl,I<; AT MAKKUAM

265

the professor and Ilt'ljecca expected to
reach Pyramid in the afternoon. lUit
there was a wreck of ore cars on the road,
the train was several hours hite, and when
they finally reached Pyramid it was 8
o'clock.

They walked up the board sidewalk of
the main street towards the best hotel for
which the professor inquired, and walked
slowly, for the main street of I'yramid at
this time, was not noted for its good order
or the repair of its walks. There was an
unusually large crowd on the streets, and
to the professor and his daughter coming
from the scholastic quiet and refinement of
Andover, there was a bewildering amount
of noise and shouting and confusion.
Every saloon and gambling house and den
of the camp was rimning full blast and
apparently every one of them was full of
men. Every now and then a revolver shot
was heard. The camp had started in on
one of its wild, reckless nights, and while
those familiar with its night life were pre-
pared more or less for its turmoil, the ef-
fect of it on strangers was almost start-
ling. A light rain was softly falling, and
the professor who had carried the old um-
brella that he had used ot home for many
years verj-^ carefully, gripped it tight sev-
eral times, as if he meant to use it as a
weapon of defense in case he was held up
on the main street of Pyramid,

266

THE MIKACIJC A'f MAUKHAM

"This is not the place for you, V becca,"
said the j)roi"essor, as Kebeeea clung- to his
arm a little tighter, and shrank back as
they passed saloon after saloon.

"I'm not afraid," said Kebecca, and it
was true that the strange sights had the
effect of nerving her to a courage she
really did not possess.

As she spoke, they suddenly came to a
crowd of men in front of a large building
over the front of which was a cloth sign
announcing that preaching services were
being conducted inside.

"This must be the place where William
is working,' said Kebecca to herself. Be-
fore she knew it, she and her father were
in the crowd which was pouring into the
hall.

Prof. Elias Phillips, of Andover, was a
Yankee: that is to say, he had a full fund
of curiosity. He saw the sign and the
crowd, and he looked down at Rebecca.

"Shall we step in a moment and see what
sort of a meeting is going on here?" he
said, and it nnist be said for him that he
had no suspicion that William Procter was
the speaker in the hall.

Rebecca murmured something in as-
sent, and in a few moments the two found
themselves caught in the jam of the
crowd, and were being carried into the
hall. The majonty were miners, but
there were a few women. The professor

TrE MIKAC1,E AT MARKHAiM

267

>' 'THIS IS NOT THK I'LACK KOR VOU, RKUKCCA,' SAID
THK PROFESSOR."

268

THE MIRACLE AT MARKHAM

tightened his hold ol his umbrella. Sotne
one pushed his hat over his eyes, but he
caught it before it was knocked oiT his
head, and at last he and Rebecca were in-
side the room, and fairly pushed into
seats about two-thirds of the way from the
front. It happened that the seats were
next the broad aisle leading up to the plat-
form.

Kebecca Phillips will recall as long as
she lives, the vivid impression of that
night. The room was brilliantly lighted.
Light was one of the things that Pyramid
lavished with an unsparing hand, and Wil-
liam Procter knew its value in a place of
preaching as well as in a gambling house.

He had already come upon the platform
with another man, and began to speak
while the crowd was still coming in. He
had, at last, made a convert, and he was a
powerful one, for he had been a profession-
al gambler, well known to every other
gambler in the camp. He had come one
night to hear the 'young feller from Bos-
ton say his little piece,' and the Holy Spir-
it had found and claimed him. He was as
truly converted as was Saul of Tarsus, and
as eager to save life now as he had been
before to destroy it.

So William, exhausted himself by his
efforts, continued for so long, rejoicing in
such an ally as this, had brought him in
this night to illustrate the gambler's

THE MIRACI^li AT MARKHAM

269

tricks. The cx-gambler had brought ^vith
him a complete set of his old gambling ap-
paratus, and setting it all out on the front
of the platform, he proceeded, after a very
simple account of his own conversion, to
show the crowd how helpless the young
men were in the hands of the professional
gambler.

For half an hour the crowd fascinated
by the sight of this professional gambler
and the demonstration he made with the
faro ^ible and the wheels of chance and
his skillful nuinipulation of cards and
dice, remained quiet, breathlessly watch-
ing and listening.

Then, suddenly, some one in the rear of
the hall, fired a revolver towards the stage.
'J'he plastering fell down from the wall
just above William's head where the bul-
let had struck.

Instantly there was a yell from the au-
dience. Shouts of "Fair play!" "No shoot-
ing!" "l*ut 'em out!" rose all over the
house. In the midst of all the confusion,
the converted gambler stood calmly by his
table waiting for a chance to be heard.
William dusted the plaster from his coat
sleeve and remained seated. And it
seemed as if tne confusion would die dowu
when every one was startled by the sight
of a tall figure in black, with a lady on his
arm, pushing down the aisle towards the
platform.

mtm

270

THE MIRACI^E AT MAKKHAM

The professor was roused. He saw one
of his old seminary students in peril of liis
life as he supposed, (and in spite of thu
usual lack of order in Pyramid it is i)OS-
sible the professor was not far wrong that
night), and he did not intend to sit quietly
still and have him shot at.

Waving" his umbrella and saying some-
thing in a loud voice, (Rebecca afterwards
declared it was a fragment of Hebrew
from one of the imprecatory Psalms), he
dragged Rebecca »ip on the platform and
then turned around in front of William.

WMlliani rose, and as he did so another
revolver shot rang out. The professor
swung his uml)rclla like a baseball club,
as if he thought to ward oflF the bullet by
hitting it, and the shot struck a lamp
chimney on the table and put out the
light.

The whole crowd of uien in the hall riisc,
and a tremendous scene of confusion at
once began. Above all the din and noise
one voice rose clear and distinct:

"Don't shoot the lady!" Tt was Wil-
liam's voice, and he ])ushed Rebecca be-
hind him as he shouted. Rut Rebecca the
next moment turned and looked up at her
lover. And not even the vivid scene of
that strange meetiug, and the unques-
tioned peril that now confronted William,
could prevent flie color from mounting to
her cheeks as she said: "If there is any

TH^ MIKACI.K AT xMARKHAM

271

dang-er, AVilliam, let me share it with you."
And it seemed to William Procter at that
moment, that he was justllied in feelinir
that all he had suffered was as nothing?
by the side of the joy he now experienced.
It was not an ideal place to make love in.
but WiJham .said, bending- down nearer to
her while he still protected her, "Do you
mean, Rebecca, tliat you will share it with
ine forever?"

"Yes," replied liebecca Phillips, prompt-
ly. And after that, William did not seem
to care about anything- else. Only as his
look went out again over the mob in the
hall, his lips moved in a most pass.onate
prayer as he stood before her, that no
harm might befall the woman who had in
his bewildering manner been restored to
his life, after the long and heart-breaking
silence of days and nights of sorrow

CHAPTER XXI.

REBECCA SURRENDERS.

FTEK William had cried
out, "Don't shoot the
lady!" there had been a
moment's lull in the con-
fusion. The converted
gambler, a man who had
spent most of his life in
rough mining camps, and
knew the character of
the crowd fhat he faced, seized that mo-
ment to aiJi^eal to the men nearest him to
restore order.

The men down in front were sober, for
the most])art, and the sight of llebecca's
beautiful face, jiale, but not fr'^htened,
won the chivalrous sentiment of the mi-
ners who were near enough to notice that
up on the platform was some unwritten
romance in which the old man with the
umbrella, and the young woman and Wil-
liam were leading characters.

A determined cry went up from the front
of the hall:

"No shooting!" One well-known miner
mounted the platform by the side of the
converted gambler and, drawing his own
revolver, threatened to shoot down the
first man that ventured to fire at a defence-
less preacher, an old man and a girl.

THt; MIRACI^F AT MARKHAM

273

Quickly the disturbance died down.
The men beg^an to take their seats, and in
what seemed to Professor Phillips like an
incredibly short time, everybody was ready
to listen again to William Procter.

He came to the front of the platform,
after his converted friend had said a few
words more, and began to comment on the
gambler's exposure of the profession. As
he went on he knew that for the first time
since the meetings began, he really had
the crowd in the grip of his appeal to it.
How could he help preaching the best he
knew, when all Ihe lime he was conscious
that on the j^latform sat the woman in all
the world to him, the one who had said
only a few moments before that she was
willing to share her life with his forever?
With an inspiration born of that knowl-
edge, added to the fact that his puritan
convictions on the matter of gambling and
every vice really amounted to the most
intense horror of evil, he went on to make
a passionate appeal that filled the heart oi
Kebecca with pride for him, astonishment
at his gift of speech, and almost tearful
thankfulness at what seemed to her like a
marvelous escape for her lover. Even now
as she listened to his unsparing denuncia-
tion of vice, she trembled for fear some
angry miner in the crowd would shoot at
him again. She did not know until sever-
al days afterwards, that William had been

274

THK MIRACI.li AT MARKIIAM

ishol at several times tlmt spring" since the
lueetinjjcs bejjran.

But there was no more disturbance that
nij^ht, and when William was throug-h, the
crowd went out quietly enough, really im-
pressed by the events of the <!vening. A
lew of the young men crowded up around
the platform to examine the gambler's a[)-
j)aratus more closely, and he took occasion
to give them another exhibition of his skill
at close quarters.

While he was busy with his exhibition,
William was fast asking and answering
questions, looking at Kebecca and hvr
father as if he were in a di'eam, a very
ha])j)y dream, but one from which he al-
most dreaded to awake at any moment.

However, the sight of Professor Phillips
and his umbrella, which were very real and
tangible, gradually prevailed upon his
mind, and when the crowd had all gone out
of the hall and William and Rebecca and
the professor had come out upon the side-
walk, William was very much awake and
knew it.

It was somewliat late, but the professor
invited William to come to the hotel and
have some supper with him and Rebecca.
He had already explained how they had
come into the hall on their way to the
hotel.

So a few minutes later, William was seat-
ed at the table of the "Pyramid," which

THR MJRACIvK AT MARKFIAM 275

mmm

276

rUK MIRACr.K AT MARKHAM

kept late Slippers for the V)enefit of the
habits of the eamp, and whih' he was not
hungry, lie ate for the pleasure of being
there in eompany with Uebeeca and the
])rofessor who still had a {;'i«at many ques-
tions to ask about the meetinpfs, William's
change of plans, his future expectations
and so on.

"Do you always speak under lire?"
asked Professor I'hillips.

"No, not always," replied William, laugh-
ing-. "The meeting- tonight was more ex-
citing- than usual." He looked at Rebecca
as he spoke, and she knew he was not re-
ferring to the shooting-.

"Yes, I should think it might be a good
school of experience for some of our young
[ireachers in the seminary. But if the
average congregation shot at the preacher
every time he paid something they did not
like, don't you think it would have a ten-
dency to discourage a young preacher
somewhat?"

"T should think it might," replied Wil-
liam, laughing again. "He would always
be sure of a wide-awake congregation,
however. That would be some gain,
wouldn't it?"

So the meal progressed with two light
hearts, at least at the table, and the pro-
fessor as he glanced at his daughter and
his former seminary pupil, wondered at
the ever new and refreshing storv of whicli

TUK MIKALMC AT MARKHAM

277

the uorltl never tires, even if it does sonie-
tiines wonder, the story of love.

When William went baek to his boarding-
place that night, he carried with hini the
l^rofessor's promise to visit the reduction
mills the next mornino. Uebeeea wanted
to see every thini^' new, and found time to
say to William that she wanted particular-
ly to see the place where he had met with
his accident.

William stared at this request, for he
did not know everything- yet of a woman's
strange choices, but he was only too glad
to have IJebecca accompany her father. So
the next morning- the three visited tog-ether
several of the famous mines of T*yramid
and finally came up to the Colconda.

William was on very g-ood terms with the
superintendent, althoug-h he had never
been able to make friends with Sewell, the
owner. 'Fhe party had no trouble in gain-
ing- entrance to the mill, and they were
soon standing- in the doorway looking in-
to the furnace room and at the two mixers
as they rolled steadily around on their
endless track.

They had been standing there but a
moment, when the professor was attracted
by something in the chemical room close
by, and stepjjed in there, leaving Rebecca
and William alone.

"Tell me all about it, W^illiam," said Re-
becca, as she stood watching the grim

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THE MIRACU-; AT MARKHAM

machines as they crashed alternat€ly in-
to and out of the roaring furnace. It was
not a morbid curiosity f)n lier i)art, but
she had felt as if she had been deprived of
Ivnowing- from William at tbe time he was
convalescing, all about the accident, and
now that her lover was restored to her,
she wanted him to tell her everything.

So VVilliani told her all about it, and he
was not unmindful of Francis Randall's
part, either. The mention of his name
caused Rebecca to ask a question.

"Isn't he, — didn't 1 hear somewhere thar
he was soon to have a call to one of the
large churches in New York?"

"I haven't heard of it," said William.
"He is in New York now. I had a letter
from him a few days ago. Have you read
his book, *What the King Said?'"

"Yes, it's a beautiful story. There was
one part in it that made me think of our
experience."

"Perhaps it was his own," replied Wil-
liam. "He and my sister Jane — I don't
know that 1 ought to tell — but I am sure
he and Jane love each other, but they have
had some misunderstanding."

"Oh, your sister Jane!" cried Rebecca.
The two had crossed through the furnace
room, and were now standing by the open
door on the other side, the door through
which Francis Randall had stepped to res-
cue William. "Your sister Jane! Did I

THE MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

279

tell you she sent im the paper telling about
.your aecident, but not a word of your rc-
eovery? And tiu-n she answered father's
telegram aiifj addressed it to me. Did she
know about our <iuarrel?'

"Ves," said William, and he told Kebee-
ca about the photograph and the ineident
that oeeurred just before he left home.

After that they stooti in the doorvvav
looking out at the wonderful panoranui of
mouutains. The professor was staving a
long time in tlie chemical room.' ft is
possible he found the chemicals more in-
teresting than the company of these two
persons who seemed to care very little
for anything or anyone except" them-
selves.

"What are you going to do out here

William?" Rebecca at. last asked shvly,

when she discovered that he had stopped'

looking at the mountains and wa.s lookin<r

at her. "^

"I don't know exactly," replied William
slowly.

"\yill you keep on with the meetings?"
"What do you thiidv I had better <lo?"
nsked William, looking into Kebecca's eves
find .seeing the answer there.
^ "Vou are in danger," faltered Rebecca,
"but—" and the same old puritan stern-
ness of moral obligation showed In her
face as in her lover's, "if it is your duty
you must do it."

28o

THK MIRACr.K AT MARKHAM

"T have thoupfht some of g"oijig back to
Andover," said William with a pause.

Rebecca's face turned rosy red, but she
made no nns>\er.

"1 must do something to provide for my-
self. When these meetings here are over,
I shall be entirely out of means, Kebecca,"
William continued with a frankness that
she liked in him better than any other
quality. "The fact is, my experience out
here has shown me my need of thorough
preparation if 1 am going to preach to
men."

"Do you mean that you are going back
into the ministry?" asked Rebecca, sud-
denly.

WMlliam looked at her, and it is certainly
due him to say that not even the possibil-
ity of losing the heaven he had so unex-
pectedly gained in Rebecca, could prevent
him from telling her the exact truth.

"Xo, Rebecca." he said, and he was very
pale, and his voice trembled as he said it.
"Xo, I have not decided tliat T can work-
best in a church. But T do know that T
have had grow up in me since these meet-
ings began, a great longing to preach to
men. If that is to be my life work, I need
very thorough and careful preparation for
it. If T go back to Andover, T can finish
my studies which I carried up to the
Senior year. But T am still in doubt of
my place of work when I an) ready for it."

THE miracle; at markham 2S1

Kebecca had been looking at the
j2rroiind. She now raised her eyes, and if
there was a suspicion of a tear in one of
Ihem it was not a tear of regret at her
lover's lack of courage. Still she did not
say anything at first, and William took her
hand, there being none of the men in the
mill looking, and said— "Kebecca, whether
1 do my work of preaching in a church or
in some place like last night, is your
promise good,— will you share my life with
me?"

"Yes," replied Rebecca, looking up at
him and smiling, and this time there was
no doubt as to the presence of the tear, for
it shone on her cheek, "Yes, I will go with
you and work with you anywhere."

"This is a very tine viewout here," said
the professor suddenly stepping throu-h
the doorway. "

"It certainly is," said WilHam, but he
was not looking at the mountains.

"What do you think, Rebecca?" asked
the professor with a twinkle of the eye.s
that proved he was not altogether stupid
even outside the realm of the Minor Proph-
ets. "Don't you enjoy it more than the
scenery around Andover?"

"Yes, father, I think I do," and then Re-
becca laughed, and after a moment Wil-
liam and the professor joined her. It is
easy to laugh when the heart is light.

^mw

CHAPTKR XXII.
"thk makkham union."

\V() (liiys later when
the |)rotos>or an(J
Hebecoa said j^ood-by to
William and started
back to Andover, Wil-
liam had talked over
matters with the ])rofes.s-
or and decided to re-
turn to the seminary
in time in beg-in the fall
term. Meanwhile he
would tinisli liis meetin}>s in I'yramid and
then spend the summer in earnin,<4- money
to help him durinfi- the seminary \ear.

The last thiiijr the professor said as the
train moved away, was, "Don't g-et shot,
William. We have need of yon in some
pulpit!"

]?ebecca did not speak, but she looked
her fears and hopes. William stood on
the ])Iatform and his face was ])ale. he
showe<l the marks of tlie excitement he
luid been ex])eriencinf»', bnt his happinss
was nnniistakable, and he did not seem
to fear anything- now that Rebecca was his
again.

He went back to his work that evening",
and for another two weeks he did wonders.
There is no leverage like thfit of love in

THH MIRACI.li AT xMARKHAM 2.S3

the heart under sueh eon.iitions as faced
a man like William I'roeter. Matters also
t(K>k a tnrn in his favor. 'J'he spring elec-
tion came on. A new mayor wa« placed
in office, a man who believed in law and its
enforcement. The paper changed hands,
aiul the new editor came to the assistance
ol the movement to outlaw the gamblers.
Mr. Clark, the Congregational minister, re-
covered his health and sujjported William
nobly. The result of all this was a change
of public sentiment, and at last a cleaning
up ot nmtters generally. William had the
satisfaction, before he closed his meet-
nigs, of knowing that the reign of the
gambling saloon was over, and that a large
part of that result was due to his own ef-
forts. But he always gave credit for all
that to Francis Kandall, who had begun
the movement.

With the beginning of summer he found
himself penniless and with four months
yet between him and the opening of the
seminary. He at once applied for a place
as superintendent of a new mill in Pyra-
irifl. The mines had developed wonder-
fully, and the boom times was upon the
camp .

He secured the position, and at once re-
turned to his old work at good wages,
with the understanding that he was to be
released in October. And as he went
about his physical work even in the chem-

mm^

284

THE MIKACI4K AT MAKKUAM

ical aud mixing room, he saw Uebecca's
face, and he fel* daily growing up in him
the most passionate desire to preach to
men as his life work. He identified him-
self with Mr. Clark's church, and did all the
teaching he could in connection with a
mission started in the lower town. Aud
he worked and waited, looking forward to
his Andover life, determined that this time
he should make no mistake and feeling
quite confident that somewhere in the
world would be found a place for him,
even if he still felt unable to work
through the church as his best avenue for
ministering to men.

Meanwhile, Markham entered upon its
summer life, facing a coming conflict with
the saloon element that promised to test
the strength of the church uaion that hf.d
already been so well begun.

In the first place, the organization of the
new Christian "Daily" proved to be a
task of tremendous difficulty. Naturally
enough, the existing paper in Markham
fought for its own life with a desperation
heightened by the growing knowledge on
the part of the editor, of a combined
church against him and all the whisky
power.

But at last in spite of all difficulties the
new paper was started. Every subscriber
was a shareholder. The church member-
ship of all the churches in Markham made

THE MIRACLrE AT MaRKUAM

286

up the great majority of stockholders.
'1 he phm proposed by John Procter and
Jliigli Cameron was practically carried out
with some changes of detail. Politically
the paper was non-partisan in everything
municipal. In national affairs, its columns
were open to discussion and statement
from all parties, and the constant purpose
was to make all political measures of any
party, honestly and fairly advocated, helj)
the nation as a whole. In other words, the
])aper represented, i)olitica)ly, whatever
was for the best good of ail the people,
and recognized the fact that there were
good men and good measures, patriotic
men and patriotic measures in all the par-
ties.

But on the subje<;t of the saJoon in Mark-
ham, it was clearly undor^tood from the
beginning by every subscriber that the
paper stood for its complete extinction.
There was to be no compromise, no tem-
porizing, nothing but the complete prohi-
bition of the saloon as an institoition.
The local election for mayor and council
in Markham, occurred in the fall, and the
new paper began, with its first issue, to
map out the plan of campaign and agitate
the question ol local option.

The whisky interests had always taken
everj' move of the Christian people against
it heretofore, as more or less of a joke.
The few lonesome voices raised against it

a86

THK MIKACI.K AT MARKHAM

ill one church or another now and then,
had nevPF ahirnied the saloon in the least.
The saloon underKtood perfectly well that
the churches of Markhani were divided,
and especially of no account in any com-
bined eifort in the way of votes. There,
was not a minister in Markhani, before tluv
union movement had begun, who had any
influence whatever with his church mem-
bers when it came to votes. The church
member might respect his pastor and even
love him greatly, yet if the minister urged
him to vote against the saloon he never
dreamed of doing anything of the kind if
the vote meant going against the wishes of
his party. The fact is, that up to the
time when the churches began to come
together to overthrow the saloon, Mark-
ham had been run on a strictly partisan
basis, and not even professed Christian
disci pleship had changed a man's political
action in the matter of votes, when his
own party was in danger of defeat.

The year's history, however, had done
wonders for the inner life of Markham.
The "Prating Squares" had been a power-
ful influence to bring the Christians to-
gether. The Holy Spirit who had moved
so strongly the heart of Charles Harris
and Dean TJandall and Mr. Hrown, had
wrought this transforming upon many a
business man and church member in Mark-
ham. The publishing of the new Chris-

TH1-: MIRACIJ-: AT MAKKHAM 2S7

tian paper bro.i-lit nu'ii of diflFerent piii-
ties topethor closer than ever before, and
made, possible tl.e c-an.paifi-n against the
whisky forces m hich now began to realize
that somethin^r unusual was taking place
They had paid no attention to the church
ineetings or even the praying squares.
J5ut the appearance of the new paper
waked up every saloon man in JMarkham.
It was almost ludicrous to notice the ef
feet of the first nuniber of The Markhani
Lnion upon the li(iuor interests.

A brief conversation between two men
who had property interests in saloons in
Markham, will give some idea of the im-
prossion made by the paper. The two men
ned in Columbus, where they had large
brewery interests, and sub-let to saloons in
different towns, .Afarkham among the re«t
''Xoticed this new paper from Mark-
bam? asked one of the brewers of the
other, as he took U]) a number of "The
Markham Union," which had in some way
come into the office.
"No. What about it?"
"Why, there's a new paper started in
opposition to the Markham Journal. The
queer thing about it is that it is run alto-
gether by church members."

"That so?" asked the other man indiffer-
ently, as he lighted a cigar.

"Look here!" the first man continued a
i»ttJe roughly, ^^it may be a more serious

288

TUK mikaci^l: at makkham

matter tlwiii yoii iliink. The new pajjcr
st't'ni.s to luive it in for the saloons, pretty
heavy."

"I'eriotlical relijfious spusni of the
churches ajfainst the rum tralhc?"

"No," replied his companion irritably.
"It's more than thai. Vou don't seem to
catch on to this. Every ehuieh in Mark-
ham, includinjj;' the Catholic, is a share-
holder in this paper, and every minister is
an editor. Some of tJie best business men
in the place are subscril)eis and supj)orters
of it, and here in this first number they de-
clare that one of the first objects of the
l)aper is to rim the saloon out of Markham.
At the fall election the (|uestion of local
o])tion comes uj). This is not Just a ser-
mon or a set of resolutions ag-ainst our
business men. This is a daily paper, do
you realize that fact?"

The other num waked up and said short-
ly, "(Jimme the jjajier." He looked it over
carefully and his face beg-an to take on a
more serious look.

"Say, this is no reHf>ious convention pass-
ing resolutions, is it? We need to look
sharp. How nui/*' have we invested in
Markham ?"

The other man made a rapid calculation.

"Fifteen saloons, say an averag-e of
twelve hundred apiece. About $20,000 first
and last. To say nothing of stock on hand
and to be furnished. Can you run up to

THK MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM 289

'W0TICE1> THIS NliW rAPER IROM MARKilAM?"

^()()

THU MIUACMC AT MAKKUAM

Mjiikluiii) ill :i (lay or (\vt), iiiul looU omm*

ll»Ml(«MsV"

"Havo to. I suppose. The rliiirrh propU*
imiKt Imvo stnirk ii now dciil to j^ct. t(»-
};«'tluM' \\\\v this. Suppost' they'll votv to-
jjrtlu'r whon il <'omos oltM'tion tiiiio, v\\\*
What «lo you think?"

"If thry ilo. it'll hv tlir llrst ti'iir," n-
plied the other man jjlooniily. "Hut if
they can grt together to lun a <laily paper
like that, there's no tolling" what may hap-
pen. Curse MarUham, anyway! It's al-
ways been oju* of t)ur best towns. liUeky
nono of the other 1t)wns havo booji Htruok
with this Church Union ora/<>!"

"It will bo all up witk us when they
aro. oh'.'" said his partner. Ami then tin'
tw»i browors wore silent trying* to iligost
the i\ew state of alTairs.

That wook ouo of thoni mado a visit to
Markham. stayed two days and brought
baek a g^loomy roport of tlio outlook
there.

"Kaot is, wo'vo got a big tight on our
hands if wo stay in Markham. SoouumI
as if noarly tho whole town was solid
against us, I wont to see Fathor Morris,
tho Cat ho lie ])riost. I heard ho was trying
to build a ehapol adjoining the ehureh.
and I loarnod that they wci'e pretty hard
up. money eoming in slow. I olVorod to
put up a oool thousand or so on oondition
that ho koop still on the saloon question.

tup; mik \( i,i., at ma UK mam

-"y

nrul .well I ('.•mu' vrr,v in'iir hcinjr kicked
<>ii», mT Mm- lioiisr. Voii in'\rr snw kiicIi a
'•'•*^<" '•' fi (.ifholi- |)iii.wf, JiiiywlMMc.
SoiiH'Iuiw. llic wlifdr lowii Rrriii.s •■linrijrrd.
rin\V HJiy ITh IIh- trHiilf of t|ii-ir clmnli
iinioii. Wh.v, rvcii 111,' K|>is«-.»|)iil hmii
hoh-noliH wilh thv MrlliodiKl and I'.upfisl
Jiiid oflH'i- iMTlliirM. .'IK if ||n-.v urn- all
ulikf. While I was there, otir of (he <dd
men wlio has l)«-«'n |Meaehiii^r in oiip of the
JiKIo. chiirehes, ^i.-d, ;,,id if was <'»)riirnr«i
lalk on the street that, th- ehiireh would
not call a new man, hut m> i„ vvith some
other t'hiireh. Th.^ milleniiun seems Ut
li.'ive struck Markham," the man c(,Mtin-
iied with a <'oarse laugh. "I almost lfK)ked
tf» Hee ang«'ls Myin^- around tlie stre<'t,H
on Stinda.v. No open |)ostoirice, nr, ic,;
wagons, no drug ston>s opened, exeept
two hours, and then they wouldn't, sell
Jinything hut medicine, no cigar stores
or fruif st(.res going, it was hiamed
M'leer, I tell you, hy tlic side of what the
town n.sed in he. VVIiy, they told me tin;
hired girls in ,\farkliam were beginning to
go to ehnreh and sitting in the same pews
with the people they worktd foi, sf> as to
remove the social stigma attached U) the
hired girl profession! Uah! Tive me a
(IrJTik of something to wash the sancti-
monionsness of Markham out of my sys-
tem." " '

He reaehed out a hand for a bottle on

■Ml

292

THE MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

the table, and his companiou looked at
him sourly.

"Sanctimoniousness is very well if you
want to call names, but is it the sort that
votes as it prays? That's all we care for.
If it is, we might as well shut up shop in
Markham."

"I think we might as well," said the man
who had been to Markham. And he said it
with an oath. "The game is up there, but
we'll fight it out just the same."

CHAPTER XXIII.

TRUE CHRISTIAN FRATERNITY,

O when fall came,
Markham was ilw
scene of a whisky
war that raged as
fiercely as any
contest ever
fought in the
state. But the
saloon element,
for the first time
in all its history,
faced a solidly united church, united not
simply to denounce the saloon, but to kill
it, and actually drive it out of the place
with good solid votes going one way re-
gardless of all partisanship. Added to this
fact was the influence of the Christian
drily which entered the homes of the peo-
ple every evening and soon became recog-
nized as the champion of righteousness.
The saloon men hated and feared the
"Markham Union" as they had never hated
and feared anything on earth. Next to the
fact of a uniterl church they faced the fact
of that printed thuiiderbolt directed at
their unholy business. As much as they
might have scoffed at prayer meetings and
sermons and church influences, they could
not scoff at what was actually visible in

mm^

294

THK MlRAClJv AT MARKHAM

type. Oh, for the time to come speedily
in America when the Christian church
shall have and own as part of its armory
in the battle of the Lord, this mighty en-
gine, a Christian press, daily voicing the
mind and will of Jesus Christ in the
world !

Meanwhile, as summer came on, ajid the
whisky tight grew^ daily in fierceness,
other matters were shaping which also
have much to do wdth "The Miracle at
Markham."

The event which the brewer mentioned
to his partner, tlie death of one of the min-
isters and the action of the church in de-
ciding not to call another man was, in
reality, one of the most interesting events
of the year, especially to John Procter
and Hugh Cameron.

The minister who died was Rev. Alfred
Towne, of the Free-Will Baptist Church.
He was quite an old man, had been in poor
health for several years, and unable to
preach continuously. The membership of
his church numbered some sixty odd,
nearly all elderly people scattered over
Markham and out in the country.

The church building of the Free-Will
Baptists was a fairly good sized room in
good repair, and it stood in the lower
town near the factory district. In fact, it
was the only church in Markham that
could be said to be within physical toucli

THii; MIRACr.lC AT MARKHAM

295

of the factory peo])le. Terhaps a .yoiinj,^er
man in .such a church would have recog--
nized his opportunity and turned the
church into the channel of institutional
work; but the Kev. Alfred Towne had been
too old and feeble to attempt anything of
the sort.

The death of this minister brought be-
fore the members of the Free-Will Bap-
tist Church the entire situation. They
were not strong, linaneially. They were
close by a wry strange and difficult prol)-
lem. They had few young people to do
any work. What was the wisest thing for
them to do?

It happened that about the time Mr.
Towne died, the Salvation Army was hav-
ing trouble to lease a hall for its meet-
ings. Capt. George Andrews had. from the
first, been ontspoken in his attitude to-
wards the saloon, and had often taken
public part with the ministers of Mark-
ham in their temperance rallies.

The Army had been renting an old ware-
house room which belonged to the brew-
ers of Columbus, and was rented through
their agent in Markham. But the fight
against the saloon created the most in-
tense feeling on the part of the whisky
men against all parties who had sided
against them, and when it was time to re-
new the rent of Ihe building, the Army
was curtly told to go elsewhere anil

296

THK MIRACI^E AT MAKKHAM

was flatly refused the use of the building.

The captain was an educated man of
more than usual determination. lie looked
over the ground and saw that there was no
other place near the factory district that
was suitable for his meetings. Then sud-
denly he stopped one day as he was going
by the Free-\\'ill Baptist Church, and
looked at it. That was about a week af-
ter the minister had died.

The captain applied to the officers of the
church and asl<ed if there was any possi-
bility of his getting the use of the biiild-
ing certain evenings in the week.

The church officers were astonished at
his request, but asked for time to consider
the matter. At a congregational meeting,
the matter was thoroughly discussed and
also the question as to continuing their or-
ganization and calling another pastor.

The action they finally took would have
been impossible two years before. But
who measures the results that are pos-
sible when the Divine Spirit is a factor?
That He had been moving through the
hearts of the people of Markham was evi-
dent from what this one church now did
at this crisis in its affairs.

They voted to give the vSalvation Army
the use of their church building every
night during the week, and also to help in
the work the Army was doing in the fac-
tory district. Already under the direction

THK MIRACr.K AT MARKHAM

297

of the Union churches by committees ap-
pointed following- the plans suggested by
I'rocter and Cameron, a work had been
begun in the factory district in which the
Army and the churches were sharing the
responsibility.

The Free-Will Baptist people now be-
gan by degrees to share more and more in
this particular work, (iradually the mem-
bers, after the church decision not to
call a pastor, joined some one of the other
churches, but continued the work among
the factory hands, using the old church
building as the meeting place. It thus
came about in time that the Salvation
Army with its company of enthusiastic,
willing, self-sacrificing, but often unedu-
cated and imtrained material, worked
hand in hand and side by side with mem-
bers of a church who had received a cer-
tain well-defined and very useful training
in a more educated and refined Christian
type of living. It came to be a fact which
the members of the church afterwards
acknowledged gladly, that they had never
been stimulated to so much real practical
Christianity as when they entered into this
imion of work with the Army. And on the
other hand, the members of the Army
found out that their work was more last-
ing, and the results more permanent and
useful because a church discipline and in-
telligence of training were added to their

29<S

THK MlKACJ.li AT MARKHAM

own enthusiasm and zeal. There is no
special good reason why a Salvation Army
should do the work which the church
itself in the early centuries gladly
did. There was a feeling- in Markham
when the Salvation Army lirst came into it
that it Avas able to do what the church
could not do. In other words, as one of
the members of the Army said one night,
the church was willing to let the Army do
its dirty kitchen work while the church
sat in the parlor and dusted the fine furni-
ture and polished the plate glass windows.

The union of effort on the part of the
Army and the Pree-Will Baptists proved
to be a very happy and useful imion. The
factory district problem began to be
solved. The members of the older chtirch-
es were heartily welcomed into other
churches. And !Markham took another
step upward in real power because another
useless branch of the vine was lopped off.
If John Procter's statement that there
were twice as many churches in Markham
as it needed, was not altogether a proph-
ecy of what was to be, at least the way
seemed to be growing clearer for more
consecration of church effort towards a
common end.

In all this work of the churches, in their
preparation for the coming election and
in their attack of the factory district
problem, Francis Randall had a prominent

THE MIRACI^li AT MAKKUAM

299

part. He hdd beeu absent in New York
longer than he had pJanned at first. He
had made arrangements with the publish-
ers for another bool<, and on his way baek
to Marlvham he had partly bloeked out the
details of the story. Hut his thoughts
were more than ever tilled with Jane.
Should he s])eak to her when he reiiehed
home? Was it not her place to speak first,
or at least to let him know that she loved
him still? Hut had she not done so in
dismissing Mark Wilson? What more
could a woman say without being open to
the charge of a boldness which no man of
sensitive nature could endure in the wom-
an he really loved?

He was unable to reach a conclusion in
the matter when he reached Markham, and
so he simply began his church work again,
but every hour added to his honest per-
))lexity concerning the right course t(j
take.

The second day after his return he was
obliged to consult John Procter about
some detail of church work, and after a
little hesitation he went over to the par-
sonage.

He had, since his first return to Mark-
ham after his father's death, always avoid-
ed jneeting John Procter at his own house,
in order to escape the embarrasment of a
possible meeting with Jane. But he
thought of that possibility now with a

300

THli M1KACI<1^ AT MAKKUAM

luure ur lebs definite bupe that he luight
meet her.

It was nearly dusk when llundall called,
and John Procter was in his study. He
greeted Francis warmly, and they began
the discussion of the business that had
called them together.

They had only just begun, when Ali-.
Procter was called out of the house by a
summons from a sick neighbor. He asked
Kandall to wait for his return, as he
thought he would not be gone long.

So Francis remained in the study, and
the dusk deepened in it. He sat in a rev-
erie which deepened with the darkness.
He had a strongly poetic temperament
with all his practical energy, and in his
thought of Jane, as \\i waited, he grew
so absorbed that it was only when some
words were spoken which sounded famil-
iar to him, that he realized the fact that
JSIrs. Procter and Jane had come into the
next room, and ignorant of his presence in
the house, were talking about him.

"Oh, mother," Jane was saying in a voice
that betrayed great emotion, "it is of no
use for me to hope any more. I killed
the best heart that ever lived with my
foolish speech about being tired of the
shifts and expedients of a poor minister's
daughter when I told him I could never
make him happy."

Something unusual had stirred Jane that

rat. MIRAQUH AX MARKUAM

301

afternoon, and in a ^veat breaking down
of all her previous self-eontrol, she had
come home and made a full confession of
everything to her mother.

"But I am sure, Jane," her mother said
and Francis Jfandall could not help hear-
ing every word, although he had risen to
Ins feet and taken u step towards the sit-
ting room to let the two ^omeu know he
wa« there, "I am sure that Francis Kan-
dall loves you still. He came every day to
inquire about you while you were ill, and
1 heard of him many times standing at
the corner looking up at the room. Young
men don't do that on bitter nights, unless
they care something for some one. And
in fact, Jane, he told me that he still loved
you. That was at the first of your ill-
ness!"

There was a silence of a moment, and
francs Randall would have given a good
deal to see Jane's face just then. He stood
■rresolute, about on the point of making
Ins presence known, when Jane spoke
again, and he waited, with the feeling of
shame that any man of refined feelings
has, to hear himself spoken of by per-
sons who do not know he is listening; and
.yet he seemed also to feel that what was
about to happen would excuse him for the
part he took.

"But, mother, it is impossible for me-^
how can he ever think that I,-mother-

302

THK MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

he is famous and will be rieli from the sale
of his book — wfiat would he think if — ''
Here, .laiie buried her faee in her hands
and IJandali, standinj^- there in the dusk,
had a great lifj-ht, flash into his mind. Jle
took another step forward, and stopped,
for ,Iane had risen from the table, and he
eouki hear her eoming- towards the study.
He stepped baik towards John Procter's
desk as Jane entrered, and she, seeinj^ his
fig'ure, dimly, supposed, at first, it was her
father. She had eome into the study sud-
denly, with the impulse that had often sent
her tliere for comfort when she was a little

"Jane," said Kandall, speakini^ in a low
voice, but very distinctly, "I heard all you
said. Is it true? Do you still love me?"

.lane was not a nervous sii'l, but this im-
expeeted sififht of her old lover, and his
direct method of speaking- to her after a
silence of several mouths, was enoug^h to
startle anyone.

She did not scream, however, and as
Kandall stood still, by the desk, she did
not retreat. Only she dropped her head
after the first movement of startled awak-
ening to his presence and remained very
still.

"T couldn't help hearing' what you said,
Jane," and Randall made a movement as
if he intended to walk towards her. "Tf
I understood rightly you think I am rich

THK MlKACUi AT MARKHAM

303

from thr sale of my books. And .y(,ii
uoiild not many me now frr tear I miirht
think you are marrying" me because of my
money. We will not count in the fame
Is that right, Jane? If I can prove to you
that I am still comparatively poor, and not
famous enough to hurt anybody, will you
marry nie, Jane?"

The man's voice had a certain mockery
m It that was new to Jane's ears. IJut
she was beginning dimly to feel that per-
Jiaps Paradise was not closed to her

Mrs. Procter, hearing voices, came to the
study door.

"Is your father there, Jane?"
"No," said Jane, promptly, "it is Mr
iiandaJl. He—"

'^Excuse me, Mr. Randall, if I don't come
m, said Mrs. Procter hurriedly; "I must
see about getting supper." And' she went
out mto the kitchen and shut the door
Francis Randall blessed the good taste of
h.s future mother-in-law a.s he heard the
door shut.

yet, said Francis, slowly.

"You have not proved what you say you
can, replied Jane, demurely. "B„t won't
you take a seat?"

Jane sat down herself. It is possible

tl^Tu ^ *''"'^^' '" ^'**^^' «"^^ d'^ '^ot
^vant to betray herself to him

He hesitated a moment, and then came

304

TEE MIRACI^K AT MARKHAM

across the room and sat down in a chair
close to her. Still, as before, he did not
venture to touch her, although he was
near enough to see her face in the dusk.

"If I prove that J am not, and probably
never will be ric^h from the sale of my
books, will you marry me, is that the un-
derstanding. Jane?"

"That is no* what I said," answered
Jane, somewhat indistinctly.

"I can easily prove it to you; 1 shall be
safe in saying that even if the book had a
constant sale for years, 1 could never
make much from it. You are a school
teacher, Jane, and you can figure out for
yourself how much 1 have received from
the book already after the sale of twenty
thousand copies at one cent and a half
each. The book has already ceased to sell
very much. Tn another year its sale will
probably come down to a few copies. That
is the rule with scores of books that are
called by the publishers great successes.
They have a run for a little while, and then
stop selling. Even a book that has a sale
of ten thousand copies is called a very suc-
cessful book. At ten per cent royalty, or
at one and a hal? cents a copy, the author
will not grow rich very fast. The general
public IS ignorant of the prices paid to the
average author for even a successful book.
Jane, T have not received five hundred
dollars all told from my t)ook, and the

TBC MIRACLE AT MARKMAM

3«5

'KXCCSE ME, RANDALL. FOR MAKING YOU WAIT
SO LONG.' "

3o6

run MIRACte AT MARKHAM

probabilities are that I shall receive lens
than one thousand in all. Do you think
I am — Jane — do you think I am poor
enough to ask you to marry me?"

Jane rose to her feet under an impulse
she could not define, and Randall rose also
and stood beside her. There was just
light enough left for him to see her face.
A tear started down her cheek. She turned
her face towards her lover, and the next
instant he held her in his arms and she
was sobbing out something on his
shoulder.

"Excuse me, Randall, for keeping you
waiting so long — " he started his speech of
apology out in the hall, but as he came in-
to the study and saw how matters stood,
he beat a retreat into the sitting room,
saying as he did so, "Never mind. Our
business can wait a little longer."

"There is one thing, Francis," Jane was
saying a few minutes later. "I am a little
troubled in my mind about something.
You know 1 have said a great many times
I would never marry a minister. Now that
T have promised you all you a.sk, what am
I to say to that other promise to myself?"

"I don't think I can help you out of that

difficulty, my dear," said Francis. "In

fact, I am going to do my best to make you

break that other promise. It is better

broken than kept."

"There is one way out of it that I see,"

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

30;

continued Jane a little stubbornly to her-
self. "Von are not simply a minister.
You are an author, as well."

"O, fie, Jane! Is that the way you com-
pound with your conscience?" cried Fran-
cis Randall laufi^hing. And then he added
as Jane looked up at him, "Minister, or
author, or whatever I may be, you love me
for myself, don't you, Jane? '

"Yes," replied Jane. "And I would love
you just the same if you were nothing I ut
a minister and— and— poor— and— un-
known, instead of a rich author making
five hundred dollars a year."

After which unqualified statement, Jane
langhed lightly again, and for both of
them the whole world grew young again
in the light of the best thing in it, after
their winter of darkness and sorrow.

When they went into the sitting room,
Mrs. Procter was bringing in the supper
in the next room. John Procter was by
the fable reading the evening paper. He
looked up with a smile.

Mrs. Procter came to the door between
the two rooms.

"We'll be glad to have you join our fam-
ily circle for supper," said Mrs. Procter,
beaming on the two. JoTin Procter ad-
ded, "Yes, indeed, better stay."

Francis Randall looked at Jane, and
Jane blushed, but was silent.

"Well, T don't know but I will join the

3o8

THE MIRACI«li; AT MARKHAM

family circle, not only for one meal, but
for life," said Randall.

The next minute Jane was caught and
kissed by her mother. John Procter
sprung up and shook Randall by the hand
warmly, and Mrs. Procter greeted him in
a way that revealed her thankfulness, and
of all the people in Markham that night,
it is probably safe to say that there were
not four genuinely happier people at any
supper table than those in the old Congre-
gational parsonage.

CHAPTER XXIV,

A CHRISTMAS WEDDING.

OUR months later, on
Christmas Day, Jane
Procter and Francis
Handall were married.
It was Jane's wish to
be married in her
father's study, because
as she said, she had
found her lover there,
and the parlor was
haunted by the memory of that old scene
in which she feared she had broken th^^
heart of the most faithful, sincere man in
all the world. As for Francis Randall, he
would have married Jane in the kitchen, if
she had preferred that place, and he was
rrmiantic enoug-h to understand her mo-
tive.

So, on that brij»ht Christmas night, with
holly and evergreen and wreaths of simple
make adorning- the book shelves and the
one large fire-place, John Procter pro-
nounced Jane and Francis man and wife
in the name of the Father and the Son and
the Holy Ghost. And Francis Randall took
his wife to the Manse, and together thev
entered hand in hand upon that path
which is the path of glory always, when it
is marked out by the love which is the love

310

THK MIRACIyE AT MARKHAM

of God, of one another, and of the great
brotherhood.

On New Year's Day, a week later, John
Proeter received a letter from William an-
nouncing the fact that he had decided
definitely to do his life work through the
ministry and the church.

"f have reached this decision, dear
father," the letter went on, "after coming
back to the Seminary. J believe that I can
serve best by being in line with the regu-
lar established organization. Next June,
Kebecca and I shall be married, and we
shall be ready to enter any field where we
may be called, i thank (lod for all the
way He has led me, and most of all for the
helpmeet he has given me."

John Procter and Mrs. Procter shed a
few happy tears over this letter, and that
same evening Mr. l*rocter answered it. A
part of his answer contains some items of
interest concerning "The Miracle at Mark-
ham."

"You know something, William, of the
condition of things here in Markham since
the churches came txigether," John Proc-
ter wrote, after telling his son of his own
and his mother's joy at the contents of his
letter. "But you cannot fully understand
all that has happened here without coming
into the place.

"Of course, you know we won the fight
against the whisky men last year at our

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

fall election. The saloon is no longer a
feature of Markham. We owe the suc-
cess of our campaign against it in large
measure to our Christian daily, The Mark-
ham Union. Without that agency I doubt
if even the union of the churches could
have won the day, at least in so short a
time. The paper itself is a success because
the members stand by it with their adver-
tising, etc. We have some serious difli-
culties, of course, in managing the busi-
ness, the political part of the paper, etc.,
but on the whole the paper is a great
power and growing more so every day.

"1 mentioned at the time, the noble as-
sistance given during the whisky fight by
the Catholic Church of Markham. The
relations we sustained to Father Morris
have deepened into a wider interest in
common forms of church work. It may be
said truly that the entire movement which
has brought the churches of Markham to-
gether to work for the common good of the
town, has enlarged our common under-
standing of one another. We have not
changed our denominational habits, par-
ticularly. But we have learned of one
another. And of no church have we
learned more than of the Catholic here
in Markham. Father Morris has worked
side by side with Frotestant ministers for
temperance, Sunday laws, good order and
general moral life.

312

THK MIRACI,K AT MARKHAM

"The Episcopal church in Markham has
also gone through certain experiences since
our union movement began. Dean Mur-
ray, the present Dean, has never invited
other ministers into the pulpit of Grace
Cathedral as Dean Kandall did, but so far
as I can learn, his people would not object
if he did. Francis is at present somewhat
in doubt as to the best course to pursue.
He frequently preaches for me or Hugh
Cameron or in any other church here. But
there stands the old church canon which
forbids the Episcopal clergyman fi*om in-
viting other ministers into his pulpit. 1
am convinced that time will solve this
question, and the canon will some day be
removed or modified. Meanwhile, the Dean
and Francis work hand in hand with all
the rest of us, in doing common Christian
work. Last week in one of the prayer
squares, Dean Murray was the leader of
the meeting which was held in the house
of the Cumberland Presbyterian Minister.

"You say you are ready to enter any
field to which the Lord may call you after
you have completed your studies at An-
dover. T am growing somewhat old and
feeble in the work, and Hugh Cameron is
still in his prime. >\e have been talking it
over, lately, and I have persuaded him and
many of our people, that a younger man
in my place would do what now needs to
be done, with much greater results. It is

THE MIRACI.K AT MARKHAM

313

IMJSsible, William, that this work here will
call for you when you are really for it.
I'ray God you may consecrate your powers
to the work of His united church on earth
wherever you may be called. 1 once
thought never to live to see such a miracle
of grace as that which has been wrought
in Markham. But we live in an age of
progress in every part of the scientific
world. Why should we not expect as
much progress in the religious world?
The true church union is a union of com-
mon work for the Lord. When the church-
es realize that truth fully, and come to-
gether on the basis of common service, the
miracle we have witnessed here will be an
accomplished fact before the twentieth
century has begun its glorious record of
the triumph of the kingdom of God on
earth."

John Procter finished hu letter and rose
and walked to his window. This time he
recalled in a spirit of wonder his feelings
in that same study on the day his son had
written him that eventful letter. He
looked out upon the town as it lay white
and still under its cover of snow. He could
still count several church steeples, though
his own was not among the number. But
he breathed a prayer of thanksgiving to
think that now the churches of Markham
movetl under a common impulse for one
purpose. Was not Christ's yearning

314

THK MTRACr.F. AT MARKHAM

prayer beinpf answered at last? Were
they not becoming one, even as He was
with the Father? In the spirit of that
thanksgiving he looked out upon the town
upon which the miracle of the Spirit's
power had displayed so large a part of its
transforming grace, and prayed that the
new year might witness in every towai and
city of the world the same miracle as
"The Miracle at Markham."

r*^l; SHOULDESTTAKE
THEM OUT OF THE WORLD,
BUT THAT THOU SHOULDEST
KEEP THEM FROM THE EVIL;—
NEITHER PRAY I FOR THESE
ALONE, BUT FOR THEM ALSO
WHICH SHALL BELIEVE ON ME
THROUGH THEIR WORD ; THAT
THEY ALL MAY BE ONE; AS
THOU, FATHER, ART IN ME. AND
I IN THEE, THAT THEY ALSO
MAY BE ONE IN US: THAT THE
WORLD MAY BELIEVE THAT
THOU HAST SENT ME.

Jobnxvii:iy2o, at.