# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1889_S23
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

2

The Lutheran Pioneer.

23

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Not Right because Men Think ‘so.

’ The mill was doing a great business that day,
when Jack and David Jamieson rode up with
their bags of corn to be ground. They lived on

. 2asmall farm five miles off the main road, and

were therefore not very sorry at the prospect of
waiting several hours for their grist. It gave
them a chance of seeing something of the live-
liness and bustle of ‘“The Corner,” as that part

of the village was called where the tavern, store | which road to take.

and mill stood. They ran about here and there,
and saw and heard a great deal.

: At last, a heavy shower coming on, they
went back to the mill to eat their lunch, and see
when their turn came.

swelled by the spring rains. It was the safest,
though the longest way home. The other was
a wood path through the Pines, often taken in
good weather by farmers living on the east side

of the town, to shorten the distance to ‘The|

Corner.”” In this road Bounding Brook was
crossed by fording. ‘‘ Father told us to be sure |
and take the traveled road, if it was late,’ said |
David. ‘Going to,” said Jack; and the mare
stopped at the fork as if to let the boys be sure
In fact Jack was a little
confused. The windings of the road with nothing
but woods on each side, and of course no dis-}
tinct landmarks to govern him; the gloom of
the night hiding what objects might serve to

gust of the coming showers roared through the
forest, and Jack urged the horse to all the speed
which her heavy load would allow, on and on
| through the dark woods. Jack was well pleased
| with the correctness of his hasty decision about
jthe way; and the farther he went, the more
confirmed was he that it was the right way.
Presently the roarings of Bounding Brook

| arose above the rattling of the woods. A switch

over the mare’s haunches, and ‘‘we shall be over
the bridge in a jiffy,” cried Jack; ‘then, old fel-

| low, what'll you say?”” David privately mut-

tered, ‘* He'd like to feel himself over,’ when
a few more canters, and—Jack, David, meal
and mare went floundering in the raging waters

of the swollen stream,

The miller’s son and the
squire’s son were en-
gaged in a brisk talk,
which soon took Jack’s
attention. David went
to look after the corn.
The miller’s son was ur-
ging upon the squire’s
son the importance of
finding what truth the ~
Bible enjoined, which
the squire’s son parried
by saying it ‘‘was no
matter what a man be-
lieved, provided he’s sin-
cere.’’ The rattling, off-
hand tone of the young
man pleased Jack, and
he wished he could talk
so—‘‘Wouldn’t he shut
up his grandfather? Yes,
he would. ‘No matter
what a man believes,
provided, he’s sincere’”’
said Jack to himself,
bridling up, and bracing
up his conscience against
the godly conversation
of his relations. ‘‘ He'd

pitch dark, the storm on
them, and miles from

fix ’em now,’’ he said, with a slight cant of |direct him, together with his small acquaint-

his head.

ance with the road, did puzzle the boys, although

It was not until late in the afternoon that|Jack, being the older of the two, with a dash

the boys’ grist was ready; when the old mare| of pride about him, would not own it.

As the

was brought. out-of the shed; and the bag|mare stopped, he came to a conclusion, and

hoisted on her back, and Jack and David both| whipped up.

mounted her—hbag, boys and mare homeward
bound.
You've got a longer ride ahead than I wish

“All right,”’ he cried.

“‘Are you sure?”” asked David.

‘This way, I know,” answered Jack.

“«T don’t know,” said David; “let me jump

you had, boys,”’ said the miller, casting his eyes | off and run down to that light yonder, and ask;
towards a black cloud which was rising and| there must be a cabin there, and folks.’

darkening the western sky—‘‘There’s plenty
of water up there for my mill.’’

“Oh, we can’t stop for all that,’’ said Jack.
‘‘T honestly believe this is the traveled road,

The mare set briskly off, and was soon lost| David, and that’s enough, can’t you trust me?’’

to sight among the windings of the forest road.

«But your honestly believing it don’t make

But the gloom gathered faster than the horse] it so,” muttered David.

trotted, and it was quite dark when they reached

“T haven't a doubt of it, Dave; you be still,”

a fork in the road where it might make con-| cried Jack, angrily.

siderable difference what road they took home.

‘“‘T think, we ought to ask, so as to be sure,”

One was the traveled road. This way there} persisted David.

was a good bridge over Bounding Brook, a

But Jack whipped up, and poor David’s fears

mountain stream, which was often dangerously |and words went to the winds, as gust after

human help. The first
few moments of horrible
suspense it were in vain
‘to paint. Jack at last
found himself anchored
on a log of drift wood,
the icy waters breaking
over him and the bridle
still fast in his hand.

“David!”’

‘“‘The Lord have
mercy!’’ cried David,
“Tm somewhere.”

The meal? ah, that
was making a pudding
in some wild eddy of the
Bounding Brook, far
below.

“No matter whata man
thinks, provided he is
sincere,” cried poorJack;

thoroughly drenched
and humbled. ‘‘It’sthe ©
biggest lie the devil ever
got up. It 7s matter.

Being right is the main

: thing. Sincerity don’t
save a fellow from the tremendous consequences
of being wrong—that it don’t. Then what’s the
use of all a fellow’s sincerity? It can’t get him
cut of the scrape; he’s got to take it. Lord
help us. Didn’t I honestly believe I was on
the bridge of the traveled road, when I was
going to perdition in the ford of the wood path?
Lord help!”

The woeful disaster of that night completely
and forever cured Jack of a popular error, which
has pitched many a poor soul into the wilder
surges of unbelief and irreligion.

Banner of the Gross.
a oe 8 oe 5

Dr. Cutts tells of an aged Christian lying
in the Consumptives’ Home, very near his end.
He was asked the cause of his perfect peace,
and replied: i

“When Iam able to think, I am thinking
of Jesus; and when I am not able He is think-
‘ing of me.” :
| Why should he not have peace?