A Strong Man

The weekly coach was due at South City, and all the inhabitants were eagerly awaiting its arrival. The Diggers' Arms was, as usnal, crowded, and dgainst its hospitable walls lounged those unable to get in. Suddenly a crack, lond and reverberating, sounded in the clear inountain air, and with a whoopand a rattle the great coach lumbered np. The driver, a cheery Yankee, who knew his men as well as he did his horses, shouted: "Have you heard the news, boys: Nol Well, I'll teil you - North City has imported a parson!" "A what!" shouted the miners, jealons of their own town. " A real live parson, and, what'smore, they've turned the old saloon iato a meeting house." There was a long standing feud between North City and South City, which dated froni the flrst gold rush, and many and useless were the buildings that the rival towns bad erected to "go one better" than the other. All looked toward Texas Joe, an old and tough miner, who by a brevity of speech and a quick use of his gun had long held the perilous position of dictator to the neighborhood. No one spoke - indeed no one quite cared to. At length the oracle, shifting his plug from one cheek to the other, said: "Pass the word that there'll be a meeting here of all the boys at 6 sharp. It ain't to be allowed that a youiig shove ahead village like North City is to take the shine out of us. No, sir, it ain't likely. " Long before 6 the whole adult population was collected near the saloon, and it was clear that no room would hold the crowd. Finally an open air meeting was proposed and carried - motions moved by Texas Joe generally were - and the dictator took the "barrel." "Men of South City, " he began, "you all know why this here meeting is called. We have been made fools of by the people away yonder, " waving his hand northward, "and it ain't to be. They have been presumptnous enough to get a parson, as if the inhabitants of these parts want eitber doctors or parsons, and are cracking on about it no end. Now, I ain't more religious than most, still I say," kicking his heel in the barrel to emphasize his words, "that it's a real disgrace to tis that we ain't got a parson too. Now, what I say is this: North City have got a parson; South City will have one too. They have got a traveling cuss; we will have aman of our own, a cbap wot's got some education. That'll fix 'em up, you bet. " A redhaired Cornishman, who hated Joe, ventured to say: "I vote we have a good chapel man; he'll be a sighfc cheaper and will be more of our own way of thinking. " "Now, Treleaven, you dry up. 'Piscopals I know, Catholics I know, but I know nothing and care less about fancy religions, and we'll have one froni the bishop or we'll have none at all. " A chorus of approving voices showed that Joe had the ear of the meeting, and the Cornishman sulkily drew back. "Now, it carn't be done without money. I ain't got ruuch, still I'll give $20," said the cbairruan. "I'll give $5!" "I'll give $10!" "Here, take my dust!" "Here's for the skyscraperl" were heard on all sides, and amid a scène of wild excitement Texas Joe, after counting the collection on the barrel head, said, "We'll have the best there is tobe got - we've got $400. " He beamed on the crowd and saw genuine satisfaction on every face in front of him. Then, with a queer smile on his face, Treleavan pushed his way to the front and said: "I cali that a good start, and now all we've got to do is to write to Frisco, for there's sure to be a boss there who will send us up the man we want. I vote that the chairman write and see to the whole job." A dead pause followed this, for almost every man knew that Joe could neither read nor write. He rose slowly, with his pistol in his hand. "Now, look here, mates, there's a kind er nasty twang about the last speaker's remarks that I don 't like. I ain't a pushing man, but of course I'll write if Mr. Treleaven wants me to. Say, do you now?" he asked, looking iutentlyat the Cornishman ashe did óo. The crowd feil away on all sides, for the air seemed a little heavy. "No. P'raps youag Green, the last tenderfoot, had better write it. We oughtn't to put it all on you, Joe. No offense, " he ruuttered. "Ah," said Joe, "just as yon like. Now, Green, get paper and a pen." The crowd gathered again. "Give thé boy room. Now just you write. " With admiration the miners listened while Joe dictated the following letter: Sodth City, Cal., U. 8. A. Honored Sir- NorthCity have got a chapel parson and Soiith City feit that the time has come to have a real college parson living in the town. A weak man ain't no use, cos we wnnt a strong man fit to run the show proper. We send Í40Ü for exi-s. Yours truly. TUE lNHABlTAKTS Oí HoCTH VlEW. "Now, boys," said Joe, "it's xny shout. " South City was en fete. The minera, unusually clean, were waiting for the arrival of the man who was to fairly knock North City. Their hopes had been raised to a high pitch by the receipt of a letter froru San Francisco informing them that a real strong man was coming up to put them in the way they should go. Joe had suggested a salvo of pistols as a welcome, bnt it was feit that such a receptiou was open to niisoonception, and tbe subject dropped. The empty saloon, wbich had been taken as a temporary church, was as clean as whitewash and soap conld ruste it and ouly wanted the presence uf the parüíju to make it complete. The exciternent grew intense as the hour drew near when the coach was due, cnlmiuating iu a mighty cheer when the driver finally pulled up opposite the saloon. Several passengers got down, but no one auswering to the description of a strongman left the coach. Finally Texas Joe said to the driver, "Say, where's your new parson?" "There, sitting on his trunk, "replied the man, with a grin on his face. All eyes turned toward a young, slender looking man, who, with eyes twinkling with amusement, was watching his new congregation. Seeing that fiómething was expected of him, he carne forward and held out his hand. "Men of South City," he began, in a clear, musical voice, "I have been sent up here to act, if you will have me, as your new parson. Something tells me we are going to be good friends, and it won't be my fault if we aren't. There's lots for me to learn from you and perhaps I can do a little for you too. " His face was so boyish, his hair so curly and such an air af sincerity and truth seemed to surround him that the minera, although deeply disappoiuted, feit their hearts go out to hhn. One sultry afternoon the parson of l3outh City was sitting in his room, a prey to the deepest depression. With all the eagerness that youth and zeal could supply he had done his best to raise his people, and he had failed and he knew it. He saw his miners, at first sharnelessly and then openly, stay away from his little church, and his heart was sick within him. He was wondering if it were worth while staying on when his door was suddeuly opened and a woman, disheveled and wild eyed, rushed in. "Oh, parson, save my boyl" she gasped, and sank on to a chair, breathless with her baste. "Why, Mrs. Mace, what on earth is the matter? Is your sou ill?" he asked eagerly. "No, sir, he ain't ill, but he's worse nor that - the men are going to haug him." "Whatfor? Surely he hasn't been tried. What has he done?" "Well, sir," wailed the woman, "he's got into bad company lately and a man accused him of horse stealing, and - and" - looking fearfully around, "it's true, sir." Young and inexperienced as he was in the ways of a frontier camp the parson knew that horse stealing vías one of the deadly sins, and his face grew pale as death. "I'm afraid, Mrs. Mace, that if the men have decided to hang your son no word of mine would stay them." "And you, a minister, to say that to me, a motherl Why, it's none the less murder, and you know it! Oh, sir," she pleaded, "there's yet time to catch them up! For God 's sake, whose word you preach, try and save my boy! Will no one help a poor mother?" She wept bitterly, while the parson in iinagination feit himself defying the mob, and also in imagination saw the ghastly tragedy that would ensue on his interference. "Come, Mrs. Mace, let us go and hurry, and perhaps we may do some good." Seizing his bat, he ran from the room and followed the crowd of miners whom he saw were making for some trees about half a mile out of town. When he finally caught up to them, all the grim preparatious were made for the execution. The rope was around the shivering youth 's neck. Six stalwart men held the loose end, ready at a signal to launch the criminal into eternity. With his boyish face flushed with. excitement, the parson pressed to the front and stood side by side with the man about to die. A silence feil on the throng, broken by Texas Joe, who Baid: "Now, parson, this ain't no place for you. Judge Lynch has had his say, and Jim Mace is going to be hanged, and thaf's so. " "And who are you to take upon yourself to judge and to execute? Don't scowl at me and finger your gun, for I'm an unarmed man, and you know it. Have not you enough blood on your hands already without killing this boy who has broken your laws? Give him one more chance, and you may be glad yourself of it one day. " xne inry tnac occasionaiiy comes over men of quite meek dispositions was on the little man who stood defying the whole mob. His look seemed to daunt even the men who held the rope, and it hung loose about Mace's neck. Joe saw his authority trembling in the balance, and with pistol raised said, "Clear him out ot' the way, boys, or I'U shoot him where he stands." "No, yon won't, Joe," said the parson undauntedly. "Yon know that would be rnurder, and they don 't love yon too inuch, even here, to stand that. " No one spoke for a moment ; then the Cornishman, Treleavan, shouted out: "A life for a life! If the parson wants Mace to live, let him be hanged instead." The mob sbrank fromthiscold blooded proposal, and, seizing the psychological moment, the parson slipped the halter from Mace's ueck, placed it round his own and said: "Go, niy lad, turn over a new leaf and leave this town. Go, and God bless yon!" The crowd opened, and Mace stnmbled away, looking neither to the right nor left, leaving his rescuer standing with moving lips in his place. Then Texas Joe said, with an odd break in his voice for which he could not account: "Say, boys - there ain't going to be no funeral today, you bet! Take off that necktie, parsoD, and I calcúlate South City will have to do without you in the future. We wrote to Frisco for a strong parson, and may the I Almighty strike me dead if you ain't a bit too stroDg for us. Give us yer fist, parson, and" - . sicnificantlv -