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THE HERETIC'S PARISH

HEN the Reverend Henry Martyn Warne had recovered from his wound and had passed his year's diaconate the first thing which he discovered after his consecration was that he was a heretic! At least to his own conscience he seemed to be. It was not that he had as yet adopted any positive views which he was sure were in conflict with the Articles of Religion; but he was sincerely troubled lest the opinions he held might grow into the rankest heresy.

It came to pass when the young clergyman unburdened his conscience to Bishop Vaux and asked for advice that the bishop replied, "Do nothing at all at present.'

Never

"But, Bishop, it seems to be dishonest" "You have been honest enough to tell me. mind telling your wardens,-you are not responsible to them; and as for your people, preach what you are sure about and let your doubts rest. It will be time enough to try you for heresy when you have formulated your beliefs. In the meantime I have a place for you as rector in Coalton. The town is growing, and you will do better work up there than if you

should go to a larger place. There's work to be done. In a year or two, if you are still troubled with these doubts, we will consult further about the matter."

Coalton is a forlorn place," the bishop went on; and for some reasons I dislike to send you there." He did not say that it was because the young man must go alone, while Helen served her novitiate in a distant city. But Warne knew and sympathised in silence.

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'What has been done there within the past few years?" he asked.

"Just a handful of people gathered and wardens elected. The work is all to be done yet, if you'll undertake it?"

"If you say so, I'll try, Bishop." And so the matter was settled.

The church and the rectory of the new charge were situated well enough on a commanding ridge, but the most of the town of Coalton clung to the bases of the steep mountain sides along the edge of a narrow valley. The Anthrax creek that poured swiftly through the valley ran black with coal dirt for part of the year. During the summer months it left its bed of stones bare and red with iron rust from the mine water, to blaze back the heat of the sun.

The night after the rector's arrival at Coalton, his warden, owner of one of the mines of Coalton, called to take him over the parish. As they walked along the back streets, songs and cries came from the curtained windows of the saloons.

"You see to-day is pay-day," the warden explained. "There's always lots of rum over here after the men

are paid, but it isn't so bad at other times. Maybe I oughtn't to have brought you."

The rector's heart was stirred at the sights and sounds of wickedness. "We'll start a mission over here," he said.

"But-but, Mr. Warne, this is your parish." "This! These dens?"

"I supposed the bishop had told you where your work would lie."

Then came a running commentary on the people they passed.

“That man standing by the door of the saloon is one of our attendants, Breece by name. I'm afraid he's pretty drunk to-night. He looks much better when he's clean and sober. Yes, that youngster is rather a ragamuffin, but there isn't a brighter boy in the Sunday-school. He's rather a hard case, but what could you expect? His father was killed in the strike last year. There were five of our men killed by that volley from the soldiers, besides three little children and two women."

Rector Warne remembered with a throb of thankfulness that his wound had put him out of action before any blood but his own had been shed.

"It was down this street that the soldiers came," the warden went on, "and in these shanties on the other side of the Patch that the women and children were killed. That was a dark time for Coalton, Mr. Warne."

The rector did not seem to care to discuss the strike, yet he felt that he must say something. "Did the

men feel that anything was accomplished by the strike?" he asked.

"Oh yes, various things. The companies granted them ten cents per ton increase, after they had lost hundreds of thousands of dollars through the idleness of the mines. On the other hand the miners suffered to the point of starvation before they would compromise. When the soldiers crushed the strike, bloodshed accompanied the act, and hate and distrust followed it. That's accomplishing a good deal, isn't it? The community hasn't recovered from it yet. But I'm afraid, Mr. Warne, I'll make you want to leave town before you begin work among us. Shall we go home now?"

Please take me

"No, not unless you are tired. clear through town and tell me all about it; I want to know what I have before me."

"You must not be too hard on these men, Mr. Warne. They have a great many temptations. For instance, there are scores of them here in the saloons to-night who came in to get change."

"What do they want with change?"

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Why, you know to-day is pay-day. Each miner is a contractor with the company, that is, each man who has passed the mine inspector's examination is given a legal right to take out coal. But in order to do his work successfully, he must have helpers. All the work done under contract with the company in a particular chamber is paid for by the company to the contracting miner. If the mines are working steadily, he will have from two to four hundred dollars put into