Paul Ralston by Mary Jane Holmes

It was quite a gala day in Samona. The church was to be consecrated, and the place was full of people, many of them miners, who had come from Deep Gulch, to see the Bishop and to witness the ceremony. It was partly their church, they thought, as their money had helped to build it, and the window in the chancel was entirely their contribution. They would like to have had it dedicated "To the memory of the Rev. Roger Hansford by his friends, the Deep Gulch miners," but as he was alive, this was hardly practicable, so they asked that the design be Christ blessing little children,-five of them,-the rector's number. Besides the consecration and the Bishop and the window there was another attraction. Bill Stokes and Lizy Ann were to be confirmed, and rumor said _New York_, too. In the sincerity of Mr. and Mrs. Stokes the miners believed, but shook their heads over New York. He was a first-rate feller, but his conversion had been too sudden. They didn't believe in the still, small voice,-they wanted a regular, old-fashioned knockdown, such as St. Paul had had, and such as Stokes declared he, too, had experienced. Still, if the parson and the Bishop were satisfied they were, and they'd like to see the man who not long ago was fighting the devil with shrieks and curses renounce him with solemn vows, and it was some disappointment to hear that he was not to be confirmed. He was, however, very busy everywhere. He had helped to decorate the chancel and the windows, showing remarkable deftness and taste. He was to dine with the Bishop at the Rectory. This had been Elithe's proposition.

"I think we owe it to him; he has done so much to help," she said to her father, who consented readily.