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He will be very busily engaged at the present, however, being one of the judges in this race, and if it is not of immediate importance I would advise your waiting till the race is over. But stay, here he comes. The man in the centre is Mr. Macfarren." As he spoke he pointed to a tall man, with a long, grizzled beard, riding a pony, followed by two younger men splendidly mounted.
Your horses have suffered from no plague." "Well," said Mr. Macfarren, "the people have become alienated." "Alienated? From the church?" "Well, yes. They seem to be satisfied with to prefer, indeed, the Anglican services." "Mr. Macfarren, do you mean to tell me that the Presbyterians of this country prefer any church to their own?
Again the English composer Macfarren observes: "Cherubini's position is unique in the history of his art; actively before the world as a composer for threescore years and ten, his career spans over more vicissitudes in the progress of music than that of any other man.
"No, he is not. He is not such a preacher as many of us have been accustomed to." "By the way, Mr. Macfarren, what do your people pay toward this man's salary? Five hundred? Three hundred? We only asked you two hundred, and this you found difficult. And yet you expect a two-thousand-dollar preacher." "Well, his preaching was not his only fault," said Macfarren.
The Superintendent's bodily presence was anything but weak, and men who could oppose him when at a distance, when confronted with him found it difficult to support their opposition. Macfarren found it so. He began in an apologetic manner, "Well, Doctor, circumstances have changed. Times have been none too good. In fact, we are suffering from financial stringency at present." "Mr.
"I am afraid," he said, in a shamed and hesitating manner, "that I was not the right man for the place. I think I rather failed at the Fort." "I saw Macfarren," continued the Superintendent, ignoring Shock's remark. "He tried to explain, but seemed to find it difficult."
"Shut up, you fool," growled Macfarren. "What did you say, sir?" enquired The Kid, in a voice somewhat thick and unsteady. "Get him out of here," said Macfarren, in a low tone. "I want to have a few words with Mr. Stanton," said Shock, standing in the doorway. "Here you are. Fire away," replied the boy. "The light is not good, but I can hear in the dark." "You are wanted, Mr.
"You know how I appreciate that," and he went out. There was a light in Macfarren's office. Shock knocked at the door and went in. He found the doctor and Macfarren seated by a table, upon which were glasses and a bottle. The doctor was pale, nervous, shaking. "Sit down, Mr. Macgregor," said Macfarren, with more cordiality than he had ever shown to Shock before.
It doesn't take much you know, to keep a man from going to church in this country, so the Superintendent's policy is to remove all possible excuses and barriers and to make it easy for men to give themselves a chance. Our principal man at The Fort is Macfarren, a kind of lawyer, land-agent, registrar, or something of that sort. Has cattle too, on a ranch.
"Now, Macfarren," he said, turning to that gentleman, who still sat by the table, "you have some money not belonging to you. Put it on the table." Without a moment's hesitation Macfarren hastily poured forth from his pocket poker-chips, gold pieces, and bills. "I assure you, Mr. Stanton," he hurried to say, "I was simply holding them till the ah trouble should be over."
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