That evening a larger contingent of the men who hungered for the
atmosphere of home came early to the little house and joined in the
games. Laughter made them all one human family, and songs were sung
that took them back to farms and clearings and villages, far away in
the Eastern States, where sweethearts, mothers, wives, and sisters
ofttimes waited and waited for news of a wanderer, lured far away by
the glint of silver and gold. The notes of birds, the chatter of
brooks, the tinkle of cow-bells came again, with the dreams of a
barefoot boy.
Something of calm and a newer hope and fresher resolution was
vouchsafed to them all when the wholesome young preacher held a homely
service, in response to their earnest request.
"Life is a mining for gold," said he, "and every human breast is a
mother-lode of the precious metal--if only some one can find the
out-croppings, locate a claim, and come upon the ledge. There are
toils, privations, and sufferings, which the search for gold brings
forever in its train. There are pains and miseries and woe in the
search for the gold in men, but, boys, it's a glorious life! There is
something so honest, so splendid, in taking the metal from the earth!
No one is injured, every one is helped.
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