CHAPTER XIV
THE GREAT TRANSFORMATION
John Harding seemed a new man. If ever man fought desperately the evilin his nature, he did. It would be foolish to say that he became asaint. Far from it. He was at all times very human.
All the years of his life, his deeper nature had been lying fallow. Noone had ever cared enough about him to suspect or discover itsrichness. Now some one had found him who did care, and who knewinstinctively what lay below the forbidding exterior.
He sought Esther Bright with all sorts of questions, many of themquestions a child might have asked (for he was but a child as yet inknowledge of many things); and she poured out the richness of her ownknowledge, the inspiration of her transcendent faith, until the manroused from a long sleep, and began to grapple with great questions oflife. He read, he thought, and he questioned.
Sometimes, when long away from Esther's influence, he yielded to thetemptations of the saloon again, and drank heavily. On one of theseoccasions, he chanced to cross her path as he came staggering from asaloon. He tried to avoid her, but failed.
"Oh, Jack," she said, laying her hand on his arm, "is this what Jesuswould have you do? Come home."
"'Taint no use," he answered, in a drunken drawl, "no use. I ain'tnobody; never was nobody. Let me be, I say. Nobody cares a blank forme." He threw an arm out impatiently.
"'Sh!" she interrupted. "Jesus cares. Mr. and Mrs. Clayton care. Icare. Miss Edith cares. Come home with me, John."
So saying, she led him on to the Clayton ranch.
After a field has lain fallow many years, it must be turned andoverturned again, in order to yield an abundant harvest. So it is witha soul.
John Harding's soul was slowly but surely being prepared to receivethe seeds of truth. There were days when it seemed as though a demonpossessed him. Then he would mysteriously disappear, and be gone fordays. He always returned worn and haggard, but gentle. Then he wouldseek Esther Bright, and say simply:
"I have conquered!"
He seemed to know intuitively that she never lost faith in him. Hefelt certain that he would yet become what she wished him to be,--atrue man. And this conviction made every battle with himself lessterrible. At last he knew that the good in him was master.
All this did not come about at once. Months passed before he knew thathe could feel sure of his victory.
In the meantime, the church service had become established in Gila.Esther Bright preached with deepening spiritual power. The cowlassesnow attended regularly. Other women, too, had come. Miners, dirtbegrimed, had astonished their cronies by coming to hear the teachertalk. Even men from the charcoal pits and burro camps found their wayto the crowded room.
One Sunday, the atmosphere of the meeting was so remarkable it stillstands out in the memory of many a Gilaite of those early days.
Esther Bright had preached on the Healing of the Lepers. She had toldthem of the disease of leprosy, its loathsomeness, its hopelessness.Then she vividly pictured the ten lepers, the approach of Christ, andtheir marvelous restoration. She showed them sin, its power to degrademen and women, and to weaken the will. She urged the need of God'shelp, and the necessity for each one to put forth his will power. Herlow, earnest, heart-searching voice seemed to move many in thataudience. Again and again rough hands brushed away tears they wereashamed for others to see. Ah, could there be help for them! Couldthere!
The speaker seemed filled with a power outside of herself, a powerthat was appealing to the consciences of men.
Kenneth Hastings, caught in this great spiritual tide, was swept fromhis moorings, out, out, on and away from self, Godward. He rose andspoke with deep feeling. Then some one sang the first stanza of "Whereare the Nine?" The singing ceased. The Spirit of God seemed broodingover all. The pregnant silence was followed by a succession ofmarvels. A Scotch miner rose and said:
"I am a sinner. Jesus, Maister, hae mercy on _me_."
Then voice after voice was heard confessing sin and praying for mercy.
At the close of the service, there were many touching scenes as menand women long hardened and burdened, came to this young girl forwords of hope and encouragement.
If ever human being was an instrument in the hands of God, EstherBright was that day.
The attendance at the meetings increased so that the schoolhouse couldno longer accommodate the people. It was still too cool to holdout-of-door meetings. In the midst of Esther's perplexity, shereceived a call from one of the saloon keepers.
"I 'ave been attending the meetings," he said, "and see that you needa larger room. I 'ave come to offer you my saloon."
"Your saloon, Mr. Keith?" she said, aghast.
"Yes," he replied, "my saloon! I'm one of the lepers ye told about theother day. I 'ave decided to give up the saloon business."
This was beyond Esther's wildest dreams.
"You have decided to give up the saloon?" she said, overjoyed. "I amso glad! But how will you make your living?"
"I'll go to minin' again, an' my wife'll keep boarders. She's glad to'ave me give up the dram shop."
Esther's eyes filled with happy tears.
The first Sunday in February had arrived. Nearly all vestiges of asaloon had disappeared from what had been Keith's saloon. Masses ofmistletoe and fragrant spruce had taken the place of indecentpictures. A cabinet organ, borrowed for the occasion, stood at oneside. A small table served as the speaker's desk. The billiard tableshad disappeared, and chairs now filled the room.
The crowd that gathered about the door the day of this first servicein the saloon was unusually large, for word had gone out that DavidBright, the grandfather of their pastor, would speak at the meeting.
The saving of the souls of men had come to be the vital question ofthe hour in Gila.
As the crowd caught sight of a stately white-haired man accompanyingtheir leader, there was a respectful hush. Men and women steppedaside, leaving a passage to the door. The two entered. The singerswere already in their places. The congregation assembled, and the songservice began. At its close, there followed an impressive stillness,broken only by the joyous notes of a Kentucky cardinal.
The aged preacher sat with bowed head. One would hardly have beensurprised to hear a voice from on high.
At last he rose. Everyone looked intently into his benevolent, kindlyface. Slowly and impressively he repeated:
"Repent ye; for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand."
He repeated the words a second time, then took his seat.
Again the pregnant silence. When David Bright rose the second time, heread Matthew III., and closing his Bible spoke to them for an hour,holding their undivided attention.
"Beloved," he said, "this voice is speaking to us to-day. 'Repent ye:for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand.' The kingdom comes to usindividually. It comes only as men's hearts are prepared for it."
Then he carried his audience with him as he preached the need ofrepentance, and Christ's compassionate love for every human soul. Hisvoice rose and fell, and the roughest men listened, while down manyfaces flowed repentant tears. Oh miracle of miracles,--the turningfrom sin to righteousness! Oh greatest experience of the humanheart,--the entrance of the Divine!
As the godly man took his seat, Esther Bright rose, and sang, withface shining, "I Love to Tell the Story." As she sang, the notes ofthe Kentucky cardinal burst forth, a joyous accompaniment to her gladsong.
To the amazement of all, Ben Keith rose and said:
"I 'ave been a sinful man. May God forgive me. I repent me of my sins.I 'ave led men and women astray in this saloon. May God forgive me. I'ave determined to turn face about, and to lead an honest life. I 'avesold my last drop o' whiskey. I 'ave poured all I 'ad left on theground. I shall keep no more saloon. May God 'ave mercy on my soul,and on the souls of them as I 'ave led astray."
A sob was heard. It came from the long-suffering Mrs. Keith. Thenanother stood, asking for prayers; then another, then another. Last ofall, David Bright rose, and after speaking
a few fatherly encouragingwords, he dismissed them with the benediction.
He was soon surrounded by men waiting for a word, a hand grasp. Theyasked for personal conferences with him.
"Let us go down to the timber," suggested Jack Harding. So togetherthese men strolled down to the river bank.
"Thou art troubled about the unpardonable sin, thou sayest?" thepreacher said to a young man walking by his side.
"Yes," replied the youth addressed. "I've been a bad one, but now Ireally want to be a Christian. I fear I have committed theunpardonable sin. Do you suppose--" he asked in a voice that choked alittle, "that God could pardon such a sinner as I am?"
"With God all things are possible," reverently replied the other,laying a kindly hand on the young man's shoulder. "The only sin thatseems to me to be unpardonable is that unrighteous obstinacy thatforever refuses the _offer_ of salvation."
And into the old man's face came an expression of sorrow.
"But if the offer of salvation is forever _passed by_, what then?"asked another.
"I believe the soul is lost."
"You mean the soul is in a place of fire and torment, literal hellfire?" asked the first speaker.
"I said I believe the soul is lost."
"Then you don't believe in hell?" asked another.
"No," answered David Bright; "not as some believe in it,--literalfire. Spirit or soul is, I believe, immortal. It lives on. To knowGod, and Jesus Christ, His Son, is eternal life; not to know them isdeath. To obey the laws of God here on earth means a foretaste ofheaven; to disobey them, means a foretaste of hell."
"And you think there can be hell on earth?" asked one.
"Yes: a man's own evil mind and life make for him a constant hell."
"And you believe heaven may begin on earth?"
"I do. Heaven is the rightful heritage of the soul. Heaven is accordwith the Divine. It is the natural environment of the soul. It is morenatural to do right than wrong. It is evil environment that pervertsthe soul."
They seated themselves on a dead tree trunk.
"Here," said David Bright, laying his hand on the fallen tree, "yousee an illustration of what happens to many a life. Its environmenthas brought a parasite that lays hold upon the life of the tree, sapsits strength, and decay follows. Destructive agencies in a sinfulenvironment lay hold of human life, sap its strength, and moral decayfollows. Many a strong man has fallen as has this magnificent tree.Nothing can revitalize the tree once fallen into decay; but, thanks beto God, there _is_ a force that can revitalize the human being longafter he seems dead and lost to the world, and that is the redemptivepower of Jesus Christ. There is no other name under heaven givenamong men whereby we must be saved."
The look of one who bears the sorrow of his race upon his heart cameinto the beautiful face. And the men watched him with deepeningreverence for their kind.
One who had thus far been silent spoke.
"But if the soul is immortal, spiritual death cannot come."
The old man looked keenly into the young man's eyes. He spoke withdeepest conviction as he said:
"I believe there is almost no limit to the possibilities of the mindand soul to him whose ideals are high, whose courage is great, and whoholds himself to the very highest ideals of living. Christ paved theway for such a life for every young man. That sort of life is realliving, for it means constructive work in the world. It means growth,immortality.
"To come short of what one might be, steadily, increasingly, bringsmoral deterioration, atrophy;--to my mind, the saddest form of death.It is life to grow toward the Divine. My son, it will soon be toolate. Turn Godward now. Shall we pray?"
Then up to the throne of God went a prayer for these young men,--sonsof parents who had long ago lost their grip on them.
For about two weeks, religious meetings were held daily. Night afternight the room was crowded. The services consisted of talks by DavidBright, songs, short prayers and testimony. Sometimes several men andwomen would be on their feet at once, eager to voice their repentance,and to testify of God's mercy.
The interest did not end here. Down in the mines, brief meetings wereheld daily at the noon hour. One group of miners would start a hymn;then way off, another group would catch up the refrain. On many lipsthe oath or unclean story died unspoken.
Men sought David Bright as they would a father confessor, pouring thestory of their lives into his kind and sympathetic ear. They seemed toknow intuitively that he was a man of God. What mattered, if he wereCatholic or Protestant? He found men evil, and left them good.
And Esther Bright's influence was hardly less marked. Her deepspirituality made her a great power for righteousness.
John Harding seemed scarcely less interested in saving men's soulsthan she. "Giving men a chance," he called it. He went from miningcamp to mining camp, carrying the tidings of salvation, and urging mento repent. And those who heard him not only came to the meetings, butbegan to bring others also. And so the work grew.
It was at the close of David Bright's second week in Gila that themost impressive meeting was held. At its close, the aged evangelistbade them farewell. Then they crowded about him, thanking him for allhe had done for them, and asking him to remember them in his prayers.
Kenneth Hastings was the last to speak with him. He asked for apersonal interview. Then arm in arm, they strolled up the mountainroad.
What was said during that interview no one ever knew. But when the tworeturned to Clayton Ranch, David Bright walked with his hand restingon the young man's shoulder. Esther heard her grandfather say to him:
"I honor thee for it, my son. I believe under the same circumstances,I should feel as thou dost. It is a serious question."
Kenneth said something in reply that did not reach Esther's ears. Sheheard her grandfather speaking again:
"Yes, she is an unusual woman, as thou sayest. She has always been adelightful character, and Christlike in her purity. She iscompassionate and loving because she has always walked in the Master'ssteps."
The two men entered the house, and John Clayton advanced to greetthem.
"That was a great meeting," he said.
"Yes," David Bright replied, "God has touched the hearts of thepeople."
He sat down by his granddaughter, put his arm about her, and drew herto him.
"The field is white unto the harvest, Beloved," he said, looking intoher upturned face.
"I hadn't thought of the harvest yet, Grandfather," she said simply."We have been getting the soil ready to sow good seed at everyopportunity. We are on the verge of the growing time."
"Well, well, as you will, little philosopher," he said, releasing her.
It was a lovely picture to see the two side by side. The white head ofthe one suggested a life work near completion; while the golden brownof the other, suggested life's work at its beginning. Happy would itbe if godly and beautiful age could give up its unfinished tasks tothose who are content to prepare the soil, and sow good seed, intenton the growing time!
The social hours in the Clayton home that day were ones to be longremembered. David Bright was a man enriched from many sources. He gavehimself to his companions in intercourse as rare as it was beautiful.Conversation had never become to him a lost art; it was the floweringout of the life within.
And Kenneth Hastings listened. If _he_ had only had such a father! Hewas beginning to see it all now,--life's great possibility.
At last he was drawn into the conversation.
"I hardly know," he responded to a question from David Bright. Howmany things he now realized he "hardly knew!" How vague a notion hehad, anyhow, of many questions affecting the destiny of the humanrace! He thought aloud:
"You see Mr. Bright, I was reared in a worldly home, and I was broughtup in the Church of England. My religion is simply a beautiful ritual.But, further than that, I know nothing about it. I never felt anyinterest in religion until--" here his face flushed "--until yourgranddaughter came. She found me a heathen--" He hesi
tated, andglancing toward Esther, caught her glance. How lovely she was! As hehesitated, David Bright finished his sentence, smiling genially as hedid so.
"And made you a Christian, I hope."
"I fear not. I am plagued with doubts."
"You will conquer the doubts," responded David Bright, "and bestronger for the struggle. Triumphant faith is worth battling for."
"Well," said Kenneth, "I feel that I am adrift on a great sea. Ifanyone pilots me to a safe harbor, it will be your granddaughter."
"No," she said, looking into his face with a sudden radiance in herown, "but the Man of Galilee."
And so the talk drifted, talk where each one could be himself andspeak out of his innermost heart, and not be misunderstood. Soblessed is friendship of the higher sort.
The day passed and the morrow dawned. Then David Bright journeyedeastward again, to minister to the world's unfortunate ones.
He left behind him in Gila an influence that men speak of to this day.But to no one, probably, did his coming mean more than to JohnHarding. John's transformation was now complete. He became theself-appointed evangelist to numbers of unfortunate and tempted men.He had risen in the scale of life, and had become a Man!