What of the Home-Coming? A Narrative Based on Real Life

WHAT OF THE HOME-COMING? A NARRATIVE BASED ON REAL LIFE. BY D. H. FOWLER. II. "Marval, have you forgotten all about the fact that you are baking bread today?" called the voice of our heroine's sister, "I fear it was nearer eatable an hour ago than it will ever be again. Do you feel ill," she went on, "that you look so grief-stricken? You should not worry about him, for he is in the care of Him in whose service he labors. He will return safe and sound, unless it is otherwise decreed," she observed as she quitted the room, leaving Marval alone to deplore the fact of the parched condition of her otherwise perfect loaves. "I can't rid my mind of it," she mused, "It seemed so reallike. That black train; it pulled into the depot just as natural as I have seen it in my waking hours," ran her thoughts. "And the crowd that was there; and all seemed dressed in mourning! And the nail that seemed to envelop the place appeared to hang over all like a shroud. I don't know why it should impress me thus, for in my dreams I often find myself at the depot, since I saw him step aboard on that memorable afternoon." As the running fancy of her mind reached this juncture, the kitchen door swung, "and her mother entered, and Marval resolved to unburden herself to her upon whose wisdom past experience had taught her to rely. In her mother she had always found a real sympathizer and a wise counselor, who now listened attentively to the confiding daughter as she rehearsed her fancies of the past night. She finished, and the two sat in thoughtful silence. The mother seemed about to offer some suggestion, when she was startled by the sudden, exclamation, "What's that?" It came from Marval, who at the same

408 IMPRO VEMENT ERA . time had arisen with a spasmodic jerk, and stood staring into empty space with every nerve of her beautiful form tense, and her head slightly inclined forward, as if in the attitude of intently listening. "What's what?" exclaimed her mother, who, though she considered her daughter's mind as only a little over-wrought, yet began to be greatly moved over her strange actions. "What's what?" she reiterated; the words recalled her to the consciousness that her mother was speaking to her. "Didn't you hear it?" she explained, trying to speak calmly. "I heard a voice as plain as day. It sounded so familiar, and it was in agony — 'Help! — Marval.' " Two boatmen and on a tributary of the Father of Waters. The August sun beat down in a hazy glare on the face of the stream. The reflection of heat scorched their faces. If we come closer we recognize the familiar features of our friend — the Elder — features often seen on cross-streets, when, as did they of old, he had preached the gospel of repentance. Peter-like, he now sat in the boat, fishrod in hand. He chatted pleasantly with his companion about the various experiences that had come to him in the course of his meanders as a minister of truth. The other returned the compliment. They talked heart-to-heart as two school boys. They had known each other only a few months, having been reared in different localities, and under somewhat different circumstances. The Elder had known the life of the city; his fellow that of the farm; the one had risen to a place of some importance in a large mercantile concern — had followed the life of a prospective merchant, the other had followed— the plow. Yet, they were on the same errand, and treated each other as equals . Each had received practically the same training — had been taught the story of Jesus from his mother's knee. They had been taken weekly by the Sunday schools, Primary associations, etc., established by the Church for the benefit of the young, and had there been taught the elements of religion and morality till the age of twelve. Then they attended the Mutual Improvement associations, which, as the name implies, were founded with the end in view to lay a solid foundation for a life of usefulness, and of a high moral character.

WHAT OF THE HOME-COMING? 409 During these few months, they had grown to love each other, with an affection almost like that of Jonathan and David. The Elder now seemed in an exhilaration of spirits, apparently opposite to his mood earlier in the day. He now talked freely of his future hopes and intentions . The heat became more and more oppressive , and he suggested a dip in the stream. It was quickly decided that bathing was not out of keeping with the height of the temperature; so, having secured the necessary apparel, they made for a suitable nook where they might enjoy a quiet plunge in the refreshing element. The Elder proposed a swimming feat across a narrow "deep" to reach a mound of stones at the base of a pier beyond. His comrade plunged in and cleared the goal, swimming much farther past it than he had intended. Our hero having been detained some minutes looking after the safety of their effects, determined to make a shorter cut to his companion, that he might be nearer him in the event of danger, which, by the way, would necessitate his crossing a somewhat wider "deep." When half way over, he let himself down to test the depth. Finding it greater than his height — far greater than he had supposed, — he either became excited at finding himself in a great depth of water, and lost all prudence of action, or else was seized with swimmer's cramps, probably the former. However this may be, the essential fact remains the same; he sank, rose, and called for assistance. His associate heard, but was some distance away, and made all haste toward the cry. He soon came in sight, but a sickening spectacle met his gaze. The drowning man at that moment rose for the last time, and the memory of that wild look of terror that was stamped on his face will doubtless be the mental possession of our would-be rescuer to his dying day. Two words escaped that horror-stricken visage as the death-rattle sounded in his throat, "Help! — Marval!" And the relentless water closed forever in this life over that fair, beloved head. His friend made heroic efforts to locate the body as he reached the spot a few moments later, but to no avail. There was a slight under-current, and after diving with the hope of seizing the body and bearing it shoreward, till his own strength approached exhaustion, he with great labor made his way to the pier,

41C IMPROVEMENT ERA. which, when he had reached, he sank down on the rocks with his energy all but spent, and stared at the spot in a daze of horror. His stony gaze seemed riveted to that spot in the now placid waters, above which he had seen his brother's face moulded in the agony of cruel death. He could not realize that the companion of his toils, joys and sorrows, was really swallowed up in the maw of the pitiless wave. He had a vague expectation of seeing the elements part asunder and again disgorge their precious victim. He could not think that the form that had been by his side day after day would be thus snatched away by the grim monster of the deep. And over and over in his fancy sounded the terror-laden last appeal — ' ' Help! — MarvalP ' In a Utah city, a sombre group of men and women stood silently together at our historic depot — the D. & R. G. No one seemed disposed to interrupt the stillness by a word. The whish of steam, the deep "tong" of engine-bells, the rumble and clanking of switching freights, grated on their ears this morning , and rasped on the inmost feelings. "Number Six" was a little late, but was now expected momentarily. We have little trouble to detect the central figures of the mourners. A silver-haired father, a drooping, grief-convulsed mother, tear-stained sisters and brothers, a lithe, supple form with tearless, violet eyes, staring absently into space, as one enveloped in a profound stupor; namely, a sweetheart. She seems to hear no sound nor see any of the straggling forms that ever and anon pass to and fro. The shrill shriek of an engine whistle breaks suddenly on the air. Marval started as ons> pierced to the depths, her eyes spasmodically turned in the direction of the shrill call, all her senses becoming quickly alert and every nerve, apparently, painfully tense. The beautiful form leaning slightly forward, as if in eager expectation, the gold-brown tresses sweeping the now deathly white brow, would have made a rare subject for any wielder of the chisel. The iron-horse leaped in sight from behind the moundlike hill. A moment later a piercing cry rent the air, two arms in black shot upward, and the limp form of a lovely girl pitched

WHAT OF THE HOME-COMING? 411 forward and was caught in the strong arms of her brother. The cry burned itself into the memories of all who heard — "The black train!" "Greater love has no man than that he lay down his life for his friends," the speaker was saying to a large concourse of people who packed the ward church to the doors. One of the local elders was just closing a touching tribute to the deceased. He had dwelt at some length upon the pure, noble life of the young departed Elder. "In the abounding wisdom of God, he is doubtless called to a greater mission of love on the other side , greater even than that which he undertook to the inhabitants of the earth; namely, to preach to the spirits in the unseen world. He will declare glad tidings of great joy to the unnumbered souls who have died without hearing the gospel of Christ. And these will rise and bless his name forever and ever in the eternal worlds." The hearse headed the long funeral cortege to the last resting-place, and all that remained mortal of our hero was consigned to the cold grave. Marval Hall resumed her household duties in her father's home, notwithstanding her mother's wish that she remain free from all care. At first she refused to be comforted, but gradually began to listen to reason. She prayed as she had never prayed before. A spirit of calm peace and resignation reigned in her heart. She performed in the temple the ceremonies necessary for her and our hero to dwell as husband and wife forever in the world to come. That was the state of bliss she now looked forward to, and she tried more than ever to make her acts such that she would indeed be worthy to be his helpmeet and share the celestial joy of her minister of glad tidings. (the end.) Independence, Missouri.