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Updated: May 10, 2025
The mechanism for the production of cloth on a great scale was provided, if only the raw material could be found. The romance of cotton begins on a New England farm. Eli's father was a man of substance and standing in the community, a mechanic as well as a farmer, who occupied his leisure in making articles for his neighbors.
I decided that if Miss Cara spoke with knowledge, it would do me good to see myself for a brief while as others in the Islands see me, even to hear what they said of me by way of obituary criticism." He paused at a sound on the far side of the cave. It came from the ladder; the sound of Eli's hobnailed boots, rung upon rung, as he climbed aloft towards the adit, to fasten the tackle there.
It afforded the Virginia lad great pleasure to know that he had it in his power to bring joy to honest Eli's heart; and while he valued the gun, even its loss would not have caused a single cloud to cross his brow. He was gifted with a splendid nature, and never so happy as when conferring pleasure upon some one else.
Eli's fiddle ceased its droning, and on going to the window I saw lanterns scudding along to the gate from the slaves' cabins, like fireflies in a gale. I opened the window softly, enough to hear. Not much was to be seen, for the night had set in dark; but there were evidently a number of horsemen outside the gate, and, judging from the noise, all were talking together.
"Why, how do, Eli? What's up?" Indian Jake greeted. "What's bringin' you to the Nascaupee?" "You!" Eli's face was hard with hate. "'Tis you brings me here, you thief! I wants the silver you takes when you shoots father, and 'tis well for you Doctor Joe comes and saves he from dyin' or I'd been droppin' a bullet in your heart with nary a warnin'!" "What you meanin' by that?"
Perhaps had the silver fox skin been Eli's own, and perhaps had his father and mother not built so many hopes and laid so many plans upon the little fortune it was to have brought them, Eli would never have ventured to the verge of murder to recover it. Even now, with all his regrets, he thanked God from the bottom of his heart that he had not killed Indian Jake and stained his hands with blood.
While everything was rushing down to destruction in Eli's time, and his sons were rioting at the Tabernacle door, the child was growing up in the stillness; and from then till now, amid all changes, his course had been steady, and pointed to one aim. Blessed they whose age is but the fruitage of the promise of their youth!
He made no threat that he was not prepared to execute, and Indian Jake knew that Eli would shoot on the count of ten. "Five six seven eight " Still Indian Jake made no move save that the little hawk eyes had narrowed to slits. He did not drop his gun. From all the indications, he did not hear Eli's count. "Nine ten!" True to his threat, Eli's rifle rang out with the last word of his count.
When the voice called again, Samuel went again to Eli's bed, but Eli told him to lie down again, for he had not called him. When the voice called the third time, Samuel said: "Here am I, for thou didst call me." Then Eli told the boy to lie down once more, but if he heard the voice again to say, "Speak Lord, for thy servant heareth."
We do not need to be in temples or about sacred tasks in order to hear it. It summons us in, and sometimes from, our daily work. Well for those who know whose Voice it is, and do not mistake it for some Eli's! No doubt this was not the first of Matthew's knowledge of Jesus.
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