One reason out of several that made him anxious to get home was the fact that Widow Nairn's wood-pile needed replenishing. She was a poor friendless old woman, who had remained on a plot of ground to which she had only "squatter's rights," and while the few scattered3 neighbours were kindness itself, the widow was, as Grayson said, so "blamed peculiar4" that it was "hard to know how to do anything for her without making her mad." Perhaps she could get along for one more day, and the missionary resolved to drive directly to her shack5 the next morning.
The decision being made, he spoke6 cheerily to his pony, and after a little manoeuvring, the cutter was turned around and Queenie was headed towards the spot where two solitary7 pines rose like sentinels from the underbush. The road to Pearson's was not far beyond these landmarks8, and the home was one of the few he knew in this rarely-visited district.
An hour later he peered anxiously through the storm. The snow melting around his eyes made seeing difficult, and he began to fear he had taken a wood-path instead of the one intended. Pulling up his pony, he listened for the jingle9 of bells, the bark of a dog, the call of a settler, or anything that might help him to locate some abode10, but no sound except that made by the winter wind reached him. Tying his pony to a poplar, he plunged11 ahead in an endeavour to find out something about the road he was on. In a few minutes he saw that the trees closed together again, and knew that the pony had taken the wrong track.
Once more the cutter was turned around with considerable difficulty. It was a hard return journey; every sign of their own recently-made track was gone, and the snow was still falling.
No more welcome sound had been heard by any ears that day than when distinct, though somewhat distant, the tired traveller heard the bark of a dog. Stopping his pony, he engaged in a barking contest, until he was sure of the direction from which the sound came. "We are all right now, thank God," he said aloud.
Through the trees a light flickered12 a few minutes later, and soon a pioneer's home came into view. The little clearance13 with its low-roofed log-house was not one the missionary had seen before, but where there was a house there was hospitality on a night like this.
Bill Sanders was soon assisting the traveller to unhitch, and with the aid of a "bug"[*] Queenie was crowded into the roughly constructed stable. There were times when it would have been both difficult and dangerous to have put her into such quarters, but that night she seemed to understand, and behaved herself accordingly.
The occupants of the little home consisted of father, mother, two boys and two girls. When the missionary introduced himself there was manifest embarrassment15 on the part of the wife, and the children gazed in wonderment from "the room" door; they were unwilling16 to run any risks through getting too close to this human novelty until they saw how he acted. "You see, sir, we don't have many people here, and they aren't used to strangers: I guess you are the first minister that's been in this house; and then, as the husband went to bring in a fresh supply of firewood, she added half apologetically, "but I was praying all week that God might send somebody in here that loved Him. When I used to work for Home Missions in Ontario, I never thought how much I'd long for the visit of a missionary myself some day; it's very lonesome sometimes."
Before the missionary retired17 to his allotted18 space on the floor, he asked permission to read a few verses of Scripture19. There was no response from the father: the mother said, "Yes, please."
The Scripture and prayer were for the encouragement of the heavy laden20, and tears were wiped away from the mother's eyes as the little group arose from kneeling.
When prayers were mentioned after breakfast the next morning, Bill Sanders deliberately21 left the shack. "Two doses of religion within twelve hours" were too many for him, as he often said in after years when recalling the missionary's visit. "We've a lot to be thankful for," said the much-tried wife, as the visitor spoke a few words of encouragement. The missionary glanced at the mud floor, at the roughly-hewn table, at the round blocks used for chairs, at the newspaper curtains, at the flour-sacks that partitioned off the bedroom, at the miscellaneous and damaged collection of dishes and tins that rested on the coverless table, and wondered wherein the "lot to be thankful for" lay. "We don't get along well with the farm; somehow Bill don't——." The words were checked, and nothing suggestive of complaint at the husband was uttered. "The children are well," she continued, "and they are obedient," and then, with a fine reticence22 that cannot be written, she added slowly, "I am trying to teach them about God; and I often tell them that if the shack isn't a credit to us, we must try to be a credit to it. You see, sir, I'm not strong, and with the little ones to look after, I can't work outside as much as a settler's wife ought; but anyhow, I'd rather leave my children a good character than anything else. Yes, God knows I would."
Late in the morning the storm was over, and with a promise on the part of the missionary to return again as soon as possible, and on the part of the children to come to a Sunday School being started in the four-mile-distant schoolhouse, good-byes were said.
Many weeks passed before the missionary could visit again the lonely little home. This time the mother, pale and trembling, was struggling from the stable with a pail of milk. Inside the house lay a four-days'-old baby boy. The missionary's heart was heavy. Since his last visit he had heard of the faithfulness and goodness of the wife and mother, and of the brutality23 of the husband and father, but he found it hard to believe that any man would compel his wife to do what this poor creature had been made to do in such a physical condition.
At first there was fight in the missionary's heart, but when the lazy, cruel husband returned from his rabbit-snaring, the fighting spirit had been replaced by a great yearning24 for this man's salvation25. To angrily rebuke26 Bill might only add to the wife's burden, while "the soul of all improvement is the improvement of the soul." Bill's need was of a changed heart.
A prayer for guidance was breathed forth27 as he walked to meet one who, a few years ago, had promised to protect and love the wife whose spirit was crushed and whose heart was well-nigh broken by neglect and abuse.
The two men stood talking for some time on the evening of that now memorable28 day. Often the pale face of an anxious, prayerful wife looked out through the tiny window. Perhaps the prayer within was mightier29 than the simple message spoken without, but at any rate new desires and purposes were awakened30 in Bill's heart that night. There was no sudden "light of glory," or ecstatic condition, but during the next few weeks it was evident that this man was being changed. When the missionary suggested getting his pony hitched31, Bill urged him to remain overnight. At retiring time, it was the father who handed a much-soiled Bible to the preacher. Strange that so simple an act as that should cause the wife to weep, but at that hour she saw the dawning of a new day.
Three weeks later the scattered settlers "visiting" outside the schoolhouse on Sunday afternoon were amazed to see Bill Sanders bringing his wife to church on the "jumper."
The singing in the little service was usually more hearty32 than harmonious33. For two or three years it had been an unsettled and vexed34 question as to whether Sam Gadsley or Martha McLeod was the finer singer. One faction35 deemed the matter settled beyond all controversy36 when a late arrival at the service confided37 to a few friends at the close that he "could hear Sam, good, clear across the concession," while he "couldn't have told whether Martha was there at all, at all." Martha's friends felt keenly the consequent verdict of the community, deposing38 their champion.
To-day the missionary broke all his own previous records in the singing of "Praise God from whom all blessings39 flow."
People said "it was a great sermon that the little parson preached" that day. Although the congregation may not have known it, the preacher almost broke down in prayer, his heart was so filled with gratitude40. When he shook hands with Bill, there was a grip that thrilled new-comer and preacher alike. To the wife he managed to say, "I'm so glad," and the now happy woman looked as though the opening doxology had become a large part of her very self.
* * * * *
The visit of the Home Mission Superintendent41 is always a great day in these isolated42 places, and when on his next visit he welcomed the new members into full communion, and took father, mother, and two children from the little log-house, not a few felt it was the greatest day the schoolhouse had seen.
During the subsequent days of the missionary's term of service, whenever there was work to be done, Bill Sanders could be counted on.
* * * * *
In the summer of 1912, after a lapse43 of ten years, the missionary stood once more in The Valley. As is true of most Western communities, everything was changed. A little city had arisen—the old schoolhouse was no more, and the once well-known places could no longer be located. But there stands a beautiful little church not far from where the old schoolhouse once stood, and one of the honoured elders bears the name of William Sanders. Two of his daughters teach in the Sabbath School, and of the five children, a well-known business man said, "Why, you'd just be proud of every one of them, if they were your own."
In the churchyard a marble slab44 bears the name, "Mary Perry Sanders," and near the base, "She hath done what she could." As was her desire in the days of struggle and isolation45, the patient, faithful mother had left the precious legacy46 of a good character to her children.
Thus had the seed sown brought forth its fruit after many days. Among hallowed memories, few are so precious to the missionary as that of the day when his now old friend "Queenie" took the wrong road. And whenever on lonely prairie, in quiet hamlet, or noisy city, he hears a congregation sing Cowper's hymn47, "God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform," he thinks of that distant, stormy winter day when a barking dog led him to a home that is now transformed, and to a darkened life that was in God's goodness guided into that light "that shineth more and more unto the perfect day."
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1
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clearance
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| n.净空；许可(证)；清算；清除，清理 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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38
deposing
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| v.罢免( depose的现在分词 )；（在法庭上）宣誓作证 | |
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39
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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41
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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42
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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44
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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45
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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46
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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47
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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