Charred Wood

tweeds, Mark, from his cap to shoes, seemed more English than Irish, and one instinctively looked for the monocle-but in vain, for the Irish-gray

s clear-cut features, the mouth firm under the aquiline nose, t

sly-tilted Alpine, and felt that the smaller man was one not to be despised. "A man of brains," thought Mark, as he noted the k

e pitted against each other, it would be impossible fo

ad the fool Englishman done this thing? Did he know or suspect that the supposed book agent was real

think. He plied him with friendly questions until the detective wondered if his companion were a fool, or someone "on th

I'll wager, so far from to

ad to thin

oon off; business has

Any success

e a month to get i

A

tive that the speaker really was a fool who had stumbled into a

You know, he interests me. By the way, w

; that's what they call a priest there. I wa

t I'd l

walking through the village now, and Saunde

ers; and nothing suited Mark better th

u introduced me. I'll stop only a moment

id not sui

your kind. You'll like him. I can't wait

l, old-to be in such a small and out-of-the-way place? You know I rather tho

nce you came down here-not very much," said Saunders. "T

choice?" Mark was curious by thi

knowingly, and d

was what they call a vicar general-next job to the bishop, you know. He was a great frie

ew not J

ture was lost

solemnly, "but Donald, Donald Murray

Catholic," commented Mark.

t he lost his big job as vicar general, and then he lost all his big jobs. I met a priest on the train once-a young

see any more than the agent. "But the

. He has books enough in that little house to start a public library, but he's too poor now

thway swept up to the steps whose sharp angle with the veranda was softened by a mass of low-growing, flowering shrubs. To the side, extending towards the church, the hedge was tripled, with a space of some six feet between. The lower branches of the evergreens forming the second row were scarcely higher than the hawthorn in front; while, in

ly reading on the veranda, arose

I'd like to have you meet my friend, Mr. Griffin. I know you'll like him. He's bookish, too, and an Englishman. Then, I'm

ce, the priest seemed almost foreign. What Mark saw was a tall-he was six feet at least of bone and muscle-and good-looking man, with an ascetic nose and mouth; with hair, once black, but now showing traces of white,

right over there. That chair is more comfortable than it looks. I call it 'Old Hickory' because, t

I'm hopelessly British." Mark pulled

old cigar box filled with the odds and ends that smokers accumulat

igar habit has so grown into me that it's a rare occasion that brings me back to old times and my pipe

I haven't fixed a time for going on. I beg your pardon, but aren't those buttons si

am afraid it is the domesticity of the title that sticks here in Sihasset, rather than the prelacy. My people a

ly-" Mark

od is something like a river. The farther you go from the source the deeper and wider it gets; and it's at its best as it nears the ocean. Even when it emp

ginning to thin

here, for I'm forty-five. Only five years until I strike the half-century m

ween us religiously, Monsignore, is that I was

ray looked

ok his own tree into the Pope's lap; I wasn't on the tree. It was Brownson-a Presbyterian like myself-who did the business. You don't know him? Pity! He's worth knowin

ied, and father didn't care, in fact rather opposed; so I just d

Catholic Church?" Father Murray'

dlings say 'the church,' we mean religion in general, perhaps

may sound controversial-it's just an observation. I have noticed the tendency you speak of; but isn't it strange that wh

n't q

She alone stands firm on her foundation. She alone has something really definite to offer. She has the achievements of twenty centuries by which to judge her. She has borne, during all those centuries, the hatred of the world; but to-day she is loved, too-loved better than anything else on earth. She has hugged the worst of her children to her breast, has borne their sh

can't ignore her," he said, "but I

that I have never told anyone before. I was afraid of her. I hated her. I struggled, and almost cursed her. She was too logical. She was leading me where I did not want to go. But when I came she put her a

signore, to pay so much? Pardon me if I touch upon something raw; but I know that you

then, with a smile, she breaks you; and, hating to be broken, you break, knowing that it is best for you. She pets you, and then she whips you; and the whips sting, but they leave no mar

man, whose sad face aroused in

nute. I thank God he had you with him this m

t him. I

the house ahead of him. "Sure, God was good to me, and to John and to the childer

e priest looked over to where

ss you really have to. I'll

ed him to mention her; but Father Murray had given him something else that made him thoughtful and brought ba

ekeeper, a good soul whose specialty is one in which the Irish excel-sympathy. Ann keeps it in stock and, thoug

d Mark, "are chief virtues

s run to save me labor. Ann has been a priest's housekeeper for twenty-five years. She has condoled with hundreds; she loves the poor but has no patience with sha

man!" sa

after six months, when I met the priest-who, by the way, had been a fashionable minister like myself-I asked him rather anxiously how he liked his people. 'Charming people,' he answered, 'charming. Charming women, too-Mrs. O'Rourke, Mrs. Sweeney, M

ve her pastor's philosoph

nderstand it, but she would recognize it as something fine. It isn't philosophy,

needs

o old that I had to weep for the barren years that might h

alk, veiled indeed, yet unmistakable, but the lady of the tree? Both th

e lady, "for disturb

nd put up his hand. "No

etter, anyway. I heard that poor

said Father Murray.

once. Plainly astonished, he introduced Mark. The lady bowed and smiled. As she sat down, she raised her veil. Mark gazed timidly into her face. Thou

I fancy, Mr. Griffin," she ventured, "

golden-brown hair, there might not be a hint of red to show under the sunlight. He was thinking, too, how pretty was the na

Father Murray was eviden

nhesitating in action. He saw someone about to-make himself, let us say,

ful arches, were doing that splendidly. Mark was uneasy under the gaze of them, but s

ked with him to t

h Miss Atheson referred, Mr. Griffin?" he said.

n only wanted to stare. I gave him a chance

ed relieved as he

in. I am usually alone. Come often. The

ders, but this time it was

like the Padr

hank you for

e the lady

was intr

duced?

y n

ed, "I don't see why not aft

ad on

. She was the woman who pa

aw her

ut not close enoug

ha

e I know. Are you comi