Nathan Sites; an epic of the East . ty. The village laughed good and longat its honored guest, and then returned leisurelyand individually to its legitimate business of loaf-ing—all but the chosen few who had been rescuedfrom the communal paganism, and built into thechurch visible. I unpacked my baskets and went to work. Itwas the day of the quarterly meeting, and the offi-cial members had gathered from the scatteredvillages of the circuit to report on the spiritualand temporal state of the Kingdom which was intheir keeping. They were a group of primitiveChristians. I thought of the return of
Nathan Sites; an epic of the East . ty. The village laughed good and longat its honored guest, and then returned leisurelyand individually to its legitimate business of loaf-ing—all but the chosen few who had been rescuedfrom the communal paganism, and built into thechurch visible. I unpacked my baskets and went to work. Itwas the day of the quarterly meeting, and the offi-cial members had gathered from the scatteredvillages of the circuit to report on the spiritualand temporal state of the Kingdom which was intheir keeping. They were a group of primitiveChristians. I thought of the return of the Twelve,or the Seventy, who once upon a time were sentout to publish the good tidings in hallowed Israel;and of later meetings, in old Jerusalem, when theapostles returned from far journeys to counseland commune together. In this motley group onemight imagine more than a single prototype ofthose ancient Christians. Would not this stolidcountryman, this eager-eyed enthusiast, thisdreamy old teacher, this keen-faced ascetic, and. Bv Lone Sea-l)reakers. IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF A MAN 249 this bronze-browed fighter, who had weatheredyears of persecution—would not any of these havefound his kindred there among those early seek-ers of the great and goodly Pearl? On the benchbeside me sat one whose queued head was roughand rusty as a cocoanut. Its continuous bobbingand s\\inging under the smoking lamp seemed tokeep time to the staccato debate in which its ownerbore a leading part. A seamed face, lighted bya pair of speaking eyes, was thrust backwardacross his shoulder, and brought to mind a lurkingimage of rugged Peter before the wistful sweet-ness of the Spirit had softened his rocky was a dash of salt in his words and mannerthat whetted curiosity, so after the session hadclosed I sought him out for a quiet talk. He was a true sea pearl,—as I soon discovered—much incrusted, indeed, with less glorious stuff,but well worth digging to, for all that. He ledme back over
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectmission, bookyear1912
