THE BLACK FORGE MILLS;
OR,
UP THE KING'S HIGHWAY.
BY WILLIAM PENDLETON CHIPMAN,
_Author of "The Mill Boy of the Genesee," etc._
"Fear not; for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy
name; thou art mine."
PHILADELPHIA:
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY,
1420 Chestnut Street.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, by the
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
DEDICATION.
REMEMBERING THE EARNEST AND EFFICIENT HELP I HAVE
EVER RECEIVED IN ALL MY STUDY AND TOIL FROM HER
WHOM GOD HAS GRACIOUSLY PERMITTED FOR
MORE THAN TEN YEARS TO WALK BY MY
SIDE, I DEDICATE THIS TRUE STORY
IN DEEPEST GRATITUDE TO
MY BELOVED WIFE.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. THE BLACK FORGE MILLS
CHAPTER II. MISS SQUIRE'S NEW SCHOLAR
CHAPTER III. ONE NIGHT'S WORK
CHAPTER IV. RAY'S CONFESSION OF CHRIST
CHAPTER V. OLD TIES SEVERED
CHAPTER VI. LONG POINT FARM
CHAPTER VII. THE BURGLARY
CHAPTER VIII. GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY
CHAPTER IX. RAY'S TRIAL AND ACQUITTAL
CHAPTER X. FRUIT AT THE MILLS
CHAPTER XI. RAY IN HIS SCHOOL LIFE
CHAPTER XII. GOOD FOR EVIL
CHAPTER XIII. THE STRIKE
CHAPTER XIV. GEORGE BRANFORD'S HOME
CHAPTER XV. FIRE AT THE MILLS
CHAPTER XVI. WHAT IS DUTY
CHAPTER XVII. RAY'S DECISION AND ITS RESULT
CHAPTER XVIII. CLINTON ACADEMY
CHAPTER XIX. SHOWING THEIR COLORS
CHAPTER XX. THE SHADOW OF DEATH
CHAPTER XXI. THE WIDENESS OF GOD'S MERCY
CHAPTER XXII. THE LAST YEAR AT EASTON
CHAPTER XXIII. A SUMMER'S VACATION
CHAPTER XXIV. LIFE'S WORK BEGUN
CHAPTER XXV. RAY'S FULL SURRENDER
CHAPTER XXVI. HOPE'S FULL FRUITION AT LAST
THE BLACK FORGE MILLS;
OR,
UP THE KING'S HIGHWAY.
CHAPTER I.
THE BLACK FORGE MILLS.
The fragrant odor of sweet fern, and of pine and hemlock came to Ralph
Carleton, the pastor of the First Baptist Church in Afton, as he leaned
against the low window sill of his study. As he thus leaned he looked
off toward the hills, which rose abruptly just back of the busy town.
A heavy rain the night before had refreshed the thirsty earth, and
clothed it anew in beauty. A perfect scene was spread before him, and,
accustomed as he was to it, it still possessed for him new charms.
Field and grove were green and leafy; the waters of the broad bay
sparkled in the sunlight, and the pure balmy air gave an indescribable
sense of exhilaration. Morning glories, honeysuckles, and grape vines
struggled for supremacy on the high trellis at the side of the tiny
garden; roses clambered over the porch, and bud and blossom fairly
rioted in profusion. The hum of bees, and the glad song of birds added
to the perfection of that early June day, and to the young minister,
who drank it all in with keenest enjoyment, there came an irresistible
longing to throw aside his books and unfinished sermon for a ramble
among the hills.
"I will do it," said he, eagerly, changing his dressing gown for his
coat, and his slippers for his shoes. "In God's great temple I will
seek fresh inspiration for my unfinished task, and who knows but that
I shall meet the Master there, and receive the power that will make my
words a living message; my tongue 'like as of fire.'"
A moment later, equipped for a long tramp, he entered the street, and
walked briskly off toward the outskirts of the town.
After a half hour of hard climbing he reached a small plateau near the
summit of the hill, from which an extended view could be obtained of
the surrounding country. He had often heard his people speak of the
beauty of this view since his coming to Afton; but as he now paused and
for the first time took in the scene, an exclamation of surprise and
delight escaped him.
Right at his feet lay the large and rapidly growing town, with its
well-kept streets, its tasteful residences, and its huge manufactories;
and yet, so far above it was he, that none of its din reached his ears,
and only the tall chimneys, dark with smoke, told of the busy life
going on there. In front of the town stretching away beyond the reach
of human vision, and wonderfully suggestive of the unseen beyond, was
the broad bay, its tossing waters dotted with sails of every size and
many a hue. Well-cultivated farms extended to the bay on either side,
and their growing crops waved gently to and fro in the balmy breeze.
Back on the hillsides, and over the hilltops the dark forests lifted
up their lofty heads, and perfumed the air with their piney fragrance.
Altogether, it was a picture to delight an artist's eye, and Mr.
Carleton, throwing himself down upon the greensward, eagerly took in
the varied panorama, and felt his soul lifted by nature's matchless
scenery nearer to nature's God.
His text for the coming Sunday came to his mind: "His glory covered
the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise." And under the
inspiration of his surroundings, and his consciousness of the Spirit's
presence and help, his theme developed with marvelous rapidity. Taking
a note book from his pocket, he jotted down thought after thought,
utterly regardless of the lapse of time, until his sermon was finished.
Then, looking at his watch, he found it was half-past eleven.
"Well," he remarked, "notwithstanding my long tramp, the morning has
proved exceedingly profitable. Surely God has met and helped me here,
and I will thank him for it."
Kneeling down by a boulder lying near, he poured forth his soul in
thankfulness to God for his help, and asked for his blessing upon the
message when it should be given to his people. When he arose a look of
quiet peace rested upon his face, and new strength and courage for the
Master's work were in his heart.
He now began his descent, taking a different route from that by which
he had come, because it seemed to be shorter. He soon found, however,
that the path led around the brow of the hill to the opposite side. As
he was about to retrace his steps his eye rested upon a portion of the
village which from the plateau he had not seen.
Below him there was a small valley, separated from the main portion of
the town by a sharp declivity. Through this a considerable stream went
foaming and dashing to the bay no great distance off. Along the banks
of the stream five large buildings with their massive chimneys were
built; and clustered about them were a half hundred or more tenement
houses, exactly alike in size and hue. Mr. Carleton had no need to read
the huge white letters on the roofs of the factories to know that they
were the Black Forge Woolen Mills.
There came directly to his mind a conversation he had held only the
Sunday before with Mr. Bacon, the superintendent of the mills. He had
preached that morning on Christ's work in foreign lands. When he came
down from the pulpit, Mr. Bacon had shaken hands with him, saying:
"Well, pastor, I have no objection to Christian work among the heathen.
In fact I believe in it; but if there ever was a heathen field that
needed immediate cultivation, we have it down at Black Forge Mills."
"Have you done your duty by it, then, my brother?" Mr. Carleton had
asked.
Mr. Bacon, shrugging his shoulders, had replied:
"We are told not to cast our pearls before swine."
"But are you sure they are _all_ swine?" the pastor had quickly asked;
"and are our skirts clear from their blood until as faithful watchmen
we have warned those people of their danger?"
Mr. Bacon at once had answered:
"You are right, Brother Carleton; and for a long time I have felt that
they should have some religious privileges. If they won't come to us,
we must take the gospel to them. Come down, and look over the ground at
an early day, and we will see what can be done."
Mr. Carleton had given the desired promise, and now as he looked down
upon the mills he was reminded of it.
"I can get there by the time the workmen come out for dinner, and it
will give me an unusual opportunity to see them all together," he
murmured. "I will go, though it will make me late at home." And he
hastened away in that direction.
As he reached the main street of the village, he saw a half dozen boys
from four to ten years of age at play. Pausing a moment, he asked the
oldest:
"Would you like to go to Sunday-school, my boy?"
"What's that?" the lad inquired, curiously.
"It is a school where you learn God's truth, and the story of his Son,
Jesus Christ," Mr. Carleton explained.
"Whose he?" the boy asked. "I never heard of him before. I guess he
don't live in these parts, does he?"
Laying his hand on the boy's head, the minister earnestly said:
"It is God who made this world, and all there is in it; and he through
his great love for us sent his only Son Jesus to die for our sins."
"What are ye givin' us?" the boy answered, with the air of one who was
being imposed upon. "If that was so, don't ye 'spose I'd 'ave heard it
before?"
Mr. Carleton walked slowly on toward the mill office, convinced that
the Black Forge Mill field did indeed stand in need of immediate
Christian work. He found that Mr. Bacon was not in; but a clerk told
him that in five minutes more the noon whistle would blow, and from the
office door he could see the mill hands file out through the gates.
Scarcely had the first note of the whistle sounded on the air, when
men, women, and half-grown children, as if glad for even a brief
respite from their monotonous toil, hastened out from the different
buildings, and, pressing in one vast throng through the ponderous
gateway scattered among the tenement houses for dinner. What a motley
crowd it was! The old and the young were there, the weak and the
strong, the ragged and the neat, the coarse and the delicate, the grave
and the gay. But upon every face there was written more or less of that
stolid indifference which comes from pinching poverty, excessive toil,
and reckless living.
"Five hundred and sixty-two of them," remarked the clerk to Mr.
Carleton; "and a harder set you never saw, men, women, or children.
I won't except a single one. By the way," he added, as the minister
started down the office steps, "you had better keep the middle of the
street as you go up town, or some of those youngsters will be throwing
eggs or stones at you. I saw Ray Branford, the biggest scamp among
them all, and the greatest daredevil, too, have his eyes on you as he
passed; you won't be the first minister he has insulted."
With a laugh Mr. Carleton replied, "Oh, I fear no trouble," and hurried
out of the gate.
He had not gone a dozen rods when a stone thrown from some neighboring
corner struck his hat, and sent it spinning to the ground, eight or ten
feet away.
"Hoorah! Hoorah! Bully for you, Ray!" shouted a chorus of voices.
Mr. Carleton picked up his hat, and turned around, hardly expecting to
see any one. To his surprise, however, a tall, well-developed lad of
fifteen or sixteen years, stood on the nearest corner, with a stone in
his right hand, while back of him was a squad of boys of all ages and
sizes, from whom the shouts came.
"Well, parson," the boy with the stone coolly asked, "how was that for
a shot?"
Amused at the boy's audacity, Mr. Carleton replied:
"It certainly was well done; but what if the stone had struck my head?"
"No fear of that, parson," the lad promptly answered. "Put on your hat,
and I'll take it off again without hurting a hair of your head."
Without the slightest hesitation, Mr. Carleton put on his hat, saying:
"All right! I am ready."
With a quick, sharp jerk the stone left the boy's hand, and again the
hat went spinning several yards away.
Mr. Carleton again picked it up, and walked slowly toward the boy.
"May I ask your name?" he inquired.
"Ray Branford."
"Well, Ray, have you ever heard the story of William Tell, who shot his
arrow through an apple on his own boy's head."
"No, sir."
In as interesting manner as possible Mr. Carleton told the story to
the boys, who without fear drew around him.
"That was good," Ray commented, when he had finished. "I believe I
could have done that."
"I think you could have done it with practice; for your present feat
shows that you have a keen eye and a steady arm," said Mr. Carleton;
"but I know another story of a mere lad who, with a single stone in a
sling, killed a great giant."
"Was it Jack the Giant Killer?" asked one of the boys. "If 'twas, I've
read him."
"No," replied the minister, suppressing a smile; "his name was David,
and he lived in Bible times, and by slaying this giant he saved his
country from the enemy."
"I'd like to hear about it, sir," said Ray, respectfully. "I can kill a
bird with a sling; I have often done it."
"I wouldn't do it any more," said Mr. Carleton; "for it is cruel to
kill them just for the fun of the thing. But it happens that next
Sunday our lesson in the Bible school is about this David and the giant
he killed. The school meets at twelve o'clock. How many of you boys
will come up there and hear about it?"
"I will," said Ray, promptly. None of the other lads, however, would
give the promise; so, telling Ray he would be on the lookout for him,
Mr. Carleton walked rapidly off toward home.
Ray looked after him until he had disappeared; then, turning to his
companions, he said, with marked emphasis on his words: "Fellows, that
parson is a brick; and I want you to understand he is to come and go
around these mills as he pleases, without any interference from any of
you. The first one of you I hear of abusing him, I'll souse you in the
ditch, no matter when it is, or who ye are." And having delivered his
message with the air of one who expected implicit obedience, he went up
a side street, and entered a house standing near the stream.
The door of the house opened directly into a room, which a single
glance showed to be kitchen, dining, and sitting room, all in one. A
long table was stretched nearly across the room, and at this four men
and three women were sitting, eating with that haste and voraciousness
characteristic of those who feel that even their mealtime is limited.
Another woman was moving rapidly about the table, waiting on those
seated there; while three or four half-clad and dirty children crawled
about the floor.
Taking a vacant place at the table, Ray helped himself from the huge
dish of cabbage, pork, and potatoes, and began to eat with the same
rapidity and greediness that characterized the others.
"What mischief has delayed ye this time?" asked the oldest of the men,
and one whose bloated visage suggested reckless dissipation.
"I only stopped, pop, to stone the parson," the boy coolly answered.
"Ye might have been in better business," growled his father.
"Yes, such as gettin' drunk and beatin' the ole woman," Ray, in perfect
mimicry of his father's tones, replied.
A low oath was the only answer.
"What did the parson do?" one of the women at the table, a sister of
the lad, asked curiously.
"Picked up his hat, put it on his head, and asked me to knock it off
again," replied the lad, while he still ate greedily.
"I don't believe it," said another sister.
"He certainly did, and I as certainly knocked it off again," affirmed
Ray.
"Then what did he do?" asked one of his brothers, moving back from the
table.
"He told me about a man named Tell, who shot an arrow through an apple
on the head of his boy, and about a fellow named David, who killed a
giant with a stone. He said the last story was in the Bible, and asked
me to come up to his Sunday-school and hear about it."
"Of course you'll go," said the brother, with a sneer.
"I promised to go, and Ray Branford keeps his word; which is more than
either of his brothers can say," responded the lad, hotly.
"Hoorah! our Ray will be a minister yet," shouted his youngest sister,
pulling his hair as she passed by him.
A general laugh followed this sally.
"He is the only one out of the whole lot of which such a thing is
possible," sharply answered the woman waiting at the table, and who was
the wife of Ray's oldest brother. Then stopping beside the boy, she
said, in a tone too low for the others to hear:
"Mother is suffering dreadfully, Ray. I wish you'd go in and see her
before you go back to the mill."
He arose, and, crossing the room, entered a small bedroom. On the bed
lay a woman; and even to the most casual observer the hacking cough and
hectic flush told that her days were numbered.
In a rough sort of a way, that he intended should indicate kindness,
Ray asked:
"How are ye to-day, mam?"
"Growing weaker every moment, my son," the woman feebly answered.
Then anxiously: "Didn't I hear you say that you had been stoning the
minister?"
"Only to knock his hat off, mam," he replied. Then, knowing it would
please his mother, he added: "But he got the best of me, as I have
promised to go up to his church next Sunday."
"The Lord be praised for that!" fervently ejaculated his mother. "If
you would only go every Sunday, Ray."
"Perhaps I'll like it so well I'll keep on going." And the boy laughed
at the very thought.
Then the whistle blew, and he hurried off to the mill.
Two hours later his sister-in-law came hurriedly into the mill, and,
with blanched cheeks, said:
"Ray, your mother is dying, and wants you at once."
"Have you told pop?" he inquired, adjusting his jack so that he could
leave it.
"Yes, and the others," she hastily replied. "Your sisters are over at
the house already; but father and the boys won't come."
With a word of explanation to the overseer of his room, Ray started on
the run for the house. His mother was still conscious when he entered
the room, and, recognizing him, gasped out:
"Ray, get a Bible, quick!"
The boy knew there was none in the house, and hastened out into the
street.
"Grandfather Peck is the only one I know of that would be likely to
have a Bible," he said to himself, and hurried down a lane toward a
little brown house at the extreme end.
To his hasty knock a pleasant voice responded: "Come in!"
"Ho! Ray, is it you?" an old white-haired man, confined to the bed in
one corner of the room, asked.
"Yes, grandfather," responded Ray. "But mother is very sick, and wants
a Bible. Have you got one?"
"Yes; there it is at the foot of the bed," the old man answered. "And,
Ray, read her the first part of the forty-third chapter of Isaiah.
That'll comfort her."
"Who's he?" Ray asked, quickly.
"I forgot how little you and the others around here know of that
blessed book," the old man replied, with a heavy sigh. "Here, I have
opened the book at the place. Hurry home with it now."
Ray, with the Bible open at the specified chapter, ran back to his
home. His mother was bolstered up in bed, and, kneeling by her side, he
read as best he could the holy words: "But now thus saith the Lord that
created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for
I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name: thou art mine.
When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee; and through
the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the
fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon
thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour."
A sudden movement of his mother caused him to stop his reading and look
up. She had raised herself up to a sitting position, her arms were
extended, her eyes were turned heavenward, her lips moved:
"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name:
thou art mine." She repeated the words once, twice, thrice, in a clear,
strong voice, and then fell back upon the pillow--dead!
Those divine words were the only legacy she had left her boy.