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THE STORY OF THE INDIAN LEDGE 111
swiftly toward the calmly flowing to a place he knew full well, a ledge
river. where he had fished in boyhood, and
On the shore a canoe lay wait he paddled swiftly to the shore, ing, a familiar friend at last, and As he stood once more upon the
pushing off he glided forward toward grim old boulder, a mighty monster
the setting sun. All about him night rushed passed him, filling all the sea
was falling and the river-banks were and sky, and lashing the quiet waters
dark with shadows, but before him with the fury of a tempest; and
shone the fiery sunset, the long path the Indian, frightened, awe-struck,
way of its gleaming light beckoning turned to stone upon the ledge where
him as with majestic finger. he stands today, unchanging, the lost
So he went on and on until he came spirit of his race.
Deacon Small's Conversion
By LILLIAN MAY
"What would the Pilgrim Fathers think," said Deacon Ezra Small, "If they could see men wallow in that brutal game, football, Or see the crowds a-going to the Motion Picture Play? A most ungodly way, I'm sure, to spend Thanksgiving Day !
"In Bible School, Miss Nancy Pert said Sunday, week ago, She'd take her class, Thanksgiving Day, to see a Photoshow. She said 'twould be inspiring ; now, that is what I call Inspiration of the Devil," said Deacon Ezra Small.
His daughter then came prancing in — a bright-faced, winsome lass, "You'll let me go, dad, w.ont you, with my teacher and our class?" Said he, "You do precisely as your mother tells you to." "All right, dad dear, that's what I want, for mother's going, too !"
The deacon settled down alone to read the Good Old Book,
But something seemed to draw his thoughts ; said he, "I'll find a nook
Myself in that there Photoshow !" No sooner said than done,
Of all the pictures shown that day, he didn't miss a one!
He saw the Mayflower anchor in the harbor of Cape Cod,
Bearing the Pilgrims, seeking for freedom to worship God;
He watched them build their first rude huts in storms of snow and sleet,
Then struggle thru the long, cold months with scarce enough to eat.
When their ship returned to England, not one who chose to go, Tho half their valiant, struggling band now slept beneath the snow. Their harvest time was but a name ; hardships they did not lack. But steadfastly they kept their way, no thought of turning back.
He saw glad, thankful faces for a bit of bread and fish ; Freedom of conscience, home and God, they had no other wish. He saw the saintly elder, with his outstretched, trembling hands, Thank God for "bounty of the sea and treasure hid in sands."
The deacon never moved his eyes, thru all these changing scenes. Thought he, "I never knew before just what Thanksgiving means. I hope the deacons all are here, 'twould be no harm at all, I'm not so old that I cant learn," said Deacon Ezra Small.