When the Ox Is in the Mire

WHEN THE OX IS IN THE MIRE By Otellie Atkinson Fred Campbell stretched and yawned as he turned and de- manded sleepily, "what's the idea waking me at this time of day? It isn't even daylight yet." "We know, Fred, but listen," began the taller of the two men bending over him, "Harry and I have been talking it over, and we thought if it was all right with you, we'd break camp early this morning and go on up to the dam today." Fred sat up in a hurry, "See here, fellows, I thought we decided before we left that there would be nothing like that on this trip. I understood we were just to loaf Sundays." "That's right Fred, we did," Bert Home spoke up. "But man, I'm telling you six cars have gone up already this morning and if we wait until to-morrow we'll sure lose out on the best fishing." "Sure, fellows, I hate to be the wet blanket in this party but I'd like to tell you a story, before we decide this matter," Fred said slowly. "It may be the story will explain my attitude." They sat down reluctantly. They were anxious to be off and the delay caused them no little irritation. Fred began, "This is a true story, boys. We won't use the principals' real names, for various reasons, but we'll call them John and Ellen Gray." "Well, this John Gray and his wife Ellen, with their four chil- dren, lived on a farm seven miles from a little town. John was a good man and a hustler, I'll say. If one could speak of it in such terms, I'd say work was his consuming passion. He toiled from day- light till dark, and if he, by any chance, spent the sabbath as the Lord intended it to be spent, the time dragged -by on leaden feet. Usually, however, he managed to do a few odd jobs such as shoeing a horse or greasing his wagon wheels to fill in the day- On one of these occasions, a heavy work horse tried to lie down on him. In the struggle he lost his balance and went down. The horse stepped on his hand breaking some of the bones. Ellen pleaded with him, to have the doctor but he was the most obstinate, mule-headed kid, I ever saw. He refused to have his hand cared for, because he needed the use of it the next day. He was going to plow his north field. It was such incidents as these that sent winging away from that home the real, calm, spirit of the sabbath. Ellen used to tell him that he would accomplish more if he took the sabbath day for rest and for spiritual development. His mind would be brighter to study his problems in a new way. "It isn't just the right thing dear," he told her, "and I'll soon have things where I won't have to work Sundays; then we'll go to

416 IMPROVEMENT ERA church every Sunday. But just now, while we are getting started there is so much to do, that I can't help it. Anyway you know what the Bible says about the ox in the mire." "Yes, retorted Ellen. But I do believe, John, that you wait till Saturday night to push the ox in the mire just so you can pull him out on Sunday. And don't you see," she coaxed, "things like that don't just happen. There will always be something to do every Sunday till you just stop." Well, one Sunday John came rushing into the kitchen, "Say Ellen," he cried excitedly, "may I have a bite to eat now? I'll just have to go up to Smith's, after those pigs, today." "Oh, John, not today," Ellen pleaded on the verge of tears. "Now, honey, don't go and cry," he begged uncomfortably. "I know I promised to take you to church, and I'm sorry to break my word, but it is this way, I simply can't spare a day next week, to go after those pigs, and I'll sure take you to church next Sunday." "Next Sunday is a long way off," Ellen quavered. Fred glanced at his companions, as he shifted to an easier po- sition. Harry sat, elbows on knees, with a hand shading his eyes. Bert, with a set face, was contemplating the tip of his boot intently. "Well," Fred continued, "at any rate John went. Ellen stood on the back steps and watched him drive away, in his truck. The children were playing quietly under the trees, evidently, not up to any mischief. Then Ellen ran into her room, closed the door, and flung herself face down on the bed and wept. After all, as the proverb goes, it was a straw that broke the camel's back. At last, Ellen aroused herself, to look after the children. Along about six o'clock, some one drove up to the door, and told Ellen that John had been in an accident and some friends were bringing him home in a car. The accident proved to be a serious one, for John's spine was injured and that meant he'd likely be a cripple for life. Ellen was a "brick" through it all, but those first days were hard ones for her and mighty bitter ones for John. Ellen is a fine woman and good for any one's soul, and in time, John came to look at things in a vastly different light. One day he said to me, "Who is man, to set himself against the judgment of God? I thought I couldn't spare one day of the week, not even the sabbath for rest, but look at me now, I've had to spare a good many more days than one, and this isn't the end," he continued, "as I look back, it seems to me, I had warnings enough but it took more than a few jolts to bring me to my senses." Fred cleared his throat, "The cynics would cry, 'all tommy-rot' and I don't know that I would have nerve enough to say that John's case was a direct act of Providence; but I've often thought since, even so, as the Father is the Creator of our bodies surely he knows the

WHEN THE OX IS IN THE MIRE 4 1 7 weakness of them, probably, then, for that reason he also gave the great commandment to rest on the Sabbath day and to keep it holy." With the story ended the three men sat, in silence, for some time. The gray dawn of the Sabbath, shone faintly through the trees. Bert got slowly to his feet. "It's still early, so I think I'll turn in for a while; but I'm inclined to think you are right, Fred. In this mad whirl a fellow's apt to be forgetting," he said huskily as he turned once more to his blankets. Harry, deeply moved, walked thoughtfully away among the trees- Fred lay staring straight above him at the tips of the tall pines. "I wonder why it affected them so?" he murmured drowsily. A faint, peaceful smile touched the corners of his mouth. Winsper, Idaho The Sea The air was still — A prescient hush prevailed That thrilled my soul with deep intensity Of awe, and vast expectancy, Like that which trembled in the breast of him Who sightless was from birth, When, at the pool, his eyes renewed, He saw the glory of the earth. The bleak plain bare and drear Didst wait as if from primal dawn to hear The voice of that which moved the waters dark; Or mayhaps mighty, rushing wings to hark, And then upon my listening ear There fell a rhythmic melody, As if I inadvertently had found The temple high of God, And entered it all unaware, So subtle and profound Were those deep under-tones sublime As if the unseen choir of all eternity didst chant A Te Deum most divine. Then lifting up mine eyes, I saw the sea Before me stretched, in vast immensity. MAUD BAGGARLEY.