Romance of a Missionary. VII. The Dearth of Men

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. CY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF ADDED UPON, M <<rTHE CASTLE ' BUILDER," ETC. VII. THE DEARTH OF MEN. The summer had nearly passed before Willard Dean found John Loring, Nancy Loring's son, and called on him. The elder had left his first field in such a hurry that he had failed to get Mr. Loring's address, so he had sent for it later. John Loring was a printer. He was married and had two children. They lived in a street off Hackney Downs. When Willard called on them he was kindly received. They were pleased to meet a distant relative from America. However, John Loring had no use for Willard's religion as he had an abun- dance of his own; in fact, he had received a good deal some two years ago, all at once, at the time he was "saved." On that im- portant occasion he had received enough to last him through this life and into eternity he said; and so, of course, he had no use for any more, especially of the kind which the young "Mormon" elder brought to him. Mr. Loring was strictly a temperate man. He knew what the family had to contend against, and so he wisely abstained alto- gether from touching the dangerous drink. But for all his temper- ance and his religion, John Loring was a weakling. Willard thought sometimes that the man did not have character enough to move in the direction of either right or wrong. His wife was the mana- ger. She carried the purse and kept the accounts, and it went hard with John Loring if he could not account for every penny vf

504 IMPROVEMENT ERA. his wages on a Saturday night. To the wife, then, was due much of the credit of John Loring's temperate, Christian life. During the dark, rainy season Willard often called at the Lor- ing's. When the fog was black without, the cheerful fire in Mrs. Loring's grate was good to see and feel. She was a model house- keeper, clean and neat. The brass fender always shone as if new. The curtains were snowy white. The floor was wonderfully free from dust or dirt. John always took off his boots when he came home and put on his slippers which were by the door waiting for him. Willard was very careful to clean his shoes before he came in. The children, a boy and a girl, were always scrupulously clean; and so Willard took great delight in playing with them— something he could not very often do with the children in many of the fami- lies where he visited. One "funny things" to Willard was of the Mrs. Loring's front parlor. was a very small room, so crowded It with furniture and bric-a-brac that Willard always went into it with fear that he might disturb something." In an unguarded moment he might knock a frail ornament from its position with disastrous results. He had seen a good many such English par- lors, which seemed to him not for use, but a storehouse for bric-a- brac; but this, to use his own expression, "was the limit." Wil- lard avoided the parlor as much as possible. He was much more comfortable in the kitchen playing with the children and talking to Mrs. Loring. One dark, wet afternoon Willard called early. The fog had crept up from the river, and had that yellow tinge peculiar to London. Early in the afternoon the fog became black, and the life of the city was checked to a slower movement — that was all; it went on regardless of wet or fog or darkness. Willard raised the rusty knocker on the front door of the Loring house and gave a number of loud raps. Mrs. Loring soon let him in and led the way into the dining room where, to his great surprise, he found Nora Loring sitting by the table. The table was spread and they were about to have their tea. "You are just in time, you see," said Mrs. Loring. "You are acquainted with Nora, I understand." "Yes, indeed," he replied as he shook her hand. "What brought you to London?"

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. 505 — "Well,— the train, of course," this with a faint effort at a smile. Thi^n soberly: "You haven't heard of mother's death?" Willard expressed his great surprise at the news. He had not called on the Lorings for ten days, and so had not been in- formed. "Yes," said the girl." Mother's gone, I hope to abetter and a happier world. She had a hard life. She has tasted of the very bitter; I hope heaven will be sweet to her because of it." The girl seemed more free than usual to talk. "Come, we will have our tea together," said Mrs. Loring. Willard greeted the children, and then sat down to the table with the little company. "I was just pouring out the tea as you knocked," said the housewife, "when Nora here surprised me by saying that she no longer drank tea. Would I give her a little hot water instead? I nearly spilled my own tea in astonishment. She acts just as you did, Elder Dean, the first time you visited us." There was a genuine blush on the face of the girl, and she was somewhat embarrassed; but she was silent. "You arn't a 'Mormon,' are you?" asked Mrs. Loring of the girl. "No," said Nora, "I— I suppose not. I don't think I'm good " enough to be a 'Mormon.' Her sister-in-law looked at her for a moment, and then she burst out into a merry laugh; but she said nothing. Willard could not keep his eyes off the girl. She was changed. There was more color in her cheeks, and they were rounder, he was sure. Two cups of hot water was poured out and but one of tea. Willard and Nora put milk and sugar into the clear water as Mrs. Loring put them into her tea. "Yes," said Nora, after she had gained control of herself again, "I heard what Elders Donaldson and Dean said about tea, and I thought I would take their advice, at least as an experiment. I haven't tasted tea for three months, and besides being consider- able money ahead, I have gained in flesh and very much in spirits." Willard was pleased. Silently, slowly, unobservedly the leaven of the gospel was working with this woman, as it does with all who honestly desire to know the truth and to do it.

506 IMPROVEMENT ERA. After the tea table was cleared they sat around the fireplace, talking. Willard learned the particulars of Mrs. Loring's death, learned also that she haH carried with her a great liking for Wil- lard and the elders. She had become quite a frequent visitor to the meetings of the Saints, and Nora had always been with her. After her mother's death, even the humble home which they had had was gone, and so she had come to London. Then Willard talked and the two women listened. He ex- perienced much freedom, and he was led along lines not usually discussed with beginners in the gospel. "Some people," said he, '"believe that we are saved by faith alone, while another class claims that works is the only thing that counts, and that faith is nothing. Both are wrong. Faith and works must be combined. One without the other is incomplete. — For instance, here is Mr. Loring beg pardon, Mrs. Loring if I am personal in making my illustration — it is all faith with him. He and those who believe with him hold that they of themselves can do nothing for their salvation. They have convinced themselves that they are nothing; they delight to call themselves 'worms of the dust, good-for-nothings, wholly corrupt,' etc. What does such a course of mind training lead to? Why, weakness of character; in- ability to take the initiative in anything; loss of power to take hold and to overcome temptation; lack of courage and of man- hood. On the other hand, mind you, a faithless man is a blind, mechanical force. I don't believe there are many faithless men among those who do things, even if some of them call themselves such." Mr. Loring now came home, and Willard remained to supper. As they were eating, Mr. Loring turned to Nora and remarkel: "I saw somebody on the street this afternoon. I was some- what surprised as I thought he was in Edinburgh." Nora evidently knew whom he meant, for she was all interest in a moment. "He was somewhat the worse for drink, I believe," continued Mr. Loring unconcernedly as he sipped his tea. Nora's face became pale for a moment, and to hide her agi- tation she turned and looked away. "Bat I am going to try to find him and take him to our re-

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. 507 vival meetings," said he. If he would only give himself to Christ — cast all hiv-' burden of sin on him, he mij^ht be saved even yet." "Do you know what I believe?" spoke up Mrs. Loring. "What, my dear?" replied her husband. "I believe that if Dwight Thornton would exert himself just a little; would put into motion the little manhood he has — suppose I he has a little left — and then trust to the Lord to help him, he would do a far wiser thing than what you want him to do." Mr. Loring stared across the table at his wife in open- mouthed wonder. She often expressed herself forcibly on financial and other matters, but what did she know about religion? She was not even a "saved" person, much to his own sorrow. Perhaps this display of heresy was due to the young "Mormon'' elder. Be- fore he had time to reply, however — always took him some time it to formulate a proper answer to his wife — Nora spoke up: "John, are there any men in your church?" "Why, certainly, there are men in our church. What a fool- ish question. Of course there are more women, but — "I don't mean that. I have been looking for we«,, not worms of the dust — men with power within themselves to say "No" to wrong and "Yes" to right— men who are willing to take the blame for their own wrong-doings— men — well, just plain men!" "You talk in riddles. What do you mean?" His sister did not answer, but Willard Dean understood what she meant. Presently Nora asked: "Where did you see him?" "On Piccadilly, going west." "Was there anyone with him?" "No, he was alone. Had the weather been fine, I should say that his destination was the grass in Hyde Park; he looked very much like a tramp." Nora became quiet, and the subject of conversation changed to other themes. In due time Willard said good-night. The next day the fog still hung over London, heavy, thick and black. The cabs traveled slowly through the darkness, their lamps sending but a glimmer of light into the street. Yet people were out. One would think that when such a blackness settled over the town, the people would go indoors and be content for a

508 IMPROVEMENT ERA. few hours by fire and light; but not so. The great pulse of the city is not so easily stopped. There was a great jam of people and vehicles on a corner in the Strand. Nora Loring wished to cross, but she with the others was held back by the uplifted hand of a policeman. The stream thus checked was soon a large gathering, waiting for another stream to get by in the street before them. Nora stood waiting patiently. She seemed to be in no great hurry, and when at last the policeman beckoned the crowd forward, she remained at the rear until the crush was lessened. This policeman was a good natured feljow, for he enforced his orders in a pleasant way. When Nora was just about to pass him and make a dart across the street, she heard someone say to him: "For the sake of old times, help me tonight." "If I give you money, you'll drink it up. I can't believe you," replied the officer. "Jack, iVe a baby at home, a baby crying for bread. If you can't trust me, send and find out. Here — here is my address " Nora paused. She knew that voice and recognized the face, and she stood and listened. She pressed closer, keeping in the shadow of the gas lamp. She heard the street and number re- peated, and she remembered it. "Can't you see that I'm busy now?" said the officer, not un- kindly. "Come again v:hen this jam is over." The man walked away in the darkness without replying. Nora did not cross the street as she had intended. She stood for a moment in thought. Would he go home? No; not yet. She could get there before him, no doubt. She would try. She was not sure of the location of the street which she had heard, so she enquired. It was a long way off, so she would have to ride. This was favorable, because he doubtless would walk. In the darkness and confusion she managed to get the right bus, and made fairly good progress towards her destination. She knew London fairly well, and was not afraid. For, nearly half an hour she rode, and then alighted at what she knew was a slummy street. After making some purchases at a shop, she walked on up the street for some distance, looking for the right number. She searched for some time before she found

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. 509 it and rang the bell. There was a faint jingle in the distant in- terior, and after a time the door was opened by a large, very dirty woman. "Does Dwight Thornton live here?" asked Nora. " 'E does when 'e's at 'ome," was the reply, "which isn't very hoften." "His child is here isn't it." "0, yes; poor kid! I'm a poor 'ooman myself and can't do much for it, but if it hadn't been for me, it 'd a starved long 'go." "May I see her? It's a little girl, I understand." "Who be you?" "I am a friend of Mr. Thornton's, and I want to help the child. You can trust me, my good woman; I wouldn't hurt it for the world." Being assured of the visitor's good intentions, the woman let Nora in, and showed her up a flight of stairs into a dingy little back room. By the light of a low burning gas, Nora could see a bundle of rags in a corner and the little girl upon it. She turned up the light, and at the woman's look of enquiry as to who should pay the gas bill thus made large, she placed a shilling in her hand. At the additional noise and light, the child sat up and stared in open- eyed wonder. When Nora approached, she nestled down again and hid her face with the cover. "Don't be afraid, dearie," said the woman. " 'Ere's a lady come to see you. She won't 'arm you. Come, Nellie, sit hup.'' But Nellie hugged the ragged bed clothes tight. "Nellie," said Nora, drawing near to the corner, "see what I have brought you." She drew an apple from her bag and held it out. But the child did not look up. Then Nora rolled the ap- ple on the floor, and it went bumping along the rough boards. The child heard and timidly peeped out. Nora held the apple up again A small arm crept out from the rags and the apple was placed in the eager grasp. Then apple and hand disappeared under the clothes. The woman then retired, and Nora was left alone with the child. She looked around for a moment at the dirty room and its meao"re furniture and then at the child in the corner. This was his house, this was his child— he who could not be a man. And

510 IMPROVEMENT ERA. yet once there was manhood in Dwight Thornton. That .was years ago before the demon drink had taken possession of the garnished house of the man; years ago when he and she had been together, had loved and planned and promised. She could see the green lanes of her native town where they had walked in the evening and listened to theskylark; where he had gathered the first white hawthorn blossoms and had placed them in her hair, yes, the — dingy room vanished for a moment, and then there was a sound of someone approaching. Nora came back suddenly to the pres- ent. The footsteps passed the door and went on. Nellie had taken a bite from the apple. She now dared to look upon the giver, and began to be less afraid. Nora went close to the bedside, and taking from her bag some buns and an orange, placed them within reach of the child. ''You are so hungry, I know," she said in a reassuring tone. "Eat the bun first, then you may have the apple and this orange. Here, dear." In a few minutes Nora had the child on her lap, contentedly eating. She was a pale, half-starved little thing, with big eyes looking out from the pinched face. Her dress was dirty and ragged, and her feet were bare. Nellie was two years old. Nora knew the date when she was born. After a time the little one began to prattle. Her hunger had been satisfied, and she looked up wonderingly into the kind lady's face. "Is you my mama?" she asked. Nora did not reply, but she hugged the little one close. Nellie put her arms around the young woman's neck. "Ain't you my mama?" she repeated. Then the tears ran unhindered down Nora Loring's cheek. She kissed the child's pale face, and stroked the tangled hair. The knocker sounded on the front door. "That is daddy," said Nellie. Nora hurriedly put the child on the bed and went out into the hall. She listened to the voices below, and heard Dwight Thorn- ton talking to the woman who had let her in. She looked hurried- ly into the room again and at Nellie sitting patiently on her bed, and then she sped softly along the corridor. Footsteps came nearer. She crouched into the shadow of a doorway as the man

ROMANCE OF A MISSIONARY. r,ll brushed past.He went on into the room, and she heard Nellie cry/'O, Daddy!"— Then she hurried down to the outer door which She carefully unlocked and opened. She slii>ped through the door and then closed it again. The fog was still over London— fog and blackness, as it seemed to be also in the heart of NoraLoring; and yet, as in the darkness and the dreariness of the city there are gleamirg i^pots and cheer, so deep down in the girl's heart theie glowed .of light a little light which sent out a ray of cheer— it was not much, but oh, what a comfort that little was in a world where all was daik- ness! (to be continued )