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Updated: May 15, 2025
In the gates she swept past Torrey and his two clerks accompanying him as witnesses. She understood; her face was anything but an index to her thoughts as she bowed and smiled graciously in response to the old judge's salutation. Torrey read the will to Hiram slowly, pausing after each paragraph for sign of approval or criticism.
I feel they will be better off without the wealth which would tempt my son to relax his efforts to make a useful man of himself and would cause my daughter to be sought for her fortune instead of for herself." "That may quiet gossip against your children," said Torrey, when he had taken down Hiram's slowly enunciated words, "but it does not change the extraordinary character of the will."
To their dismay the rush of wind carried the light ladder out so horizontally behind that they saw they could never get low enough with safety for Oliver Torrey to reach it! What could they do now? It seemed they were destined to failure; that Torrey must be left to the cruel and hungry waves. "I have it!" cried Bob. "We'll fasten Grandpa near the lower end of the ladder.
Bring the will at five o'clock." Hiram's eyes were closed; his voice sounded to Torrey as if it were the utterance of a mind far, far away as far away as that other world which had seemed vividly real to Hiram all his life; it seemed real and near to Torrey, looking into his old friend's face. "The power that's guiding him," Torrey said to himself, "is one I daren't dispute with."
"I've been trying for weeks to think of one," continued Hiram, "and whenever I thought I'd found one, I'd see, on looking at all the facts, that it only seemed to be so. And I recalled nearly a hundred instances right here in Saint X where big inheritances or little had been ruinous." "I have never thought on this aspect of the matter before," said Torrey.
"John," said Hiram, "can you think of a single instance in which inherited wealth has been a benefit, a single case where a man has become more of a man than he would if he hadn't had it?" Hiram waited long. Torrey finally said: "That may be, but " But what? Torrey did not know, and so came to a full stop.
The Clarion flyer shook his head sadly. "They're done for drowned. I'm the only one left of our crew. That was an awful storm, boys! I don't see how you ever survived it." "We did it by flying over the greater part of it," said Tom. "How did it happen to get you fellows?" "Pete and Chuck were operating," explained Oliver Torrey.
That you simply test him; try him in heathen lands and tell me if any other story could thrill and transform as does the story of his life and death. Dr. Torrey says that whether the story was told in China or England, whether the story was told in India or Australia, it was always the same and never was without effect. Try him in your own life.
Asa Gray, professor of botany at Cambridge, near Boston, had offered to accompany me on my journey to Washington. We were to meet at the house of Professor Torrey, at Princeton, a small town half a day's journey from New York, and the seat of a considerable university, one of the oldest in the United States.
They brought everything they could think of his possibly wanting; they brought to his room everyone with whom he had ever had any sort of more than casual relations Torrey, among scores of others. But he viewed each object and each person with the same awful despairing look, his immobile lips giving muffled passage to that eternal "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
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