Henry Fullscreen From Nazareth (1903)

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Again followed that wonderful bow, as the Colonel lightly touched the pale cheek of the poetess.

Mrs. Blaylock, blushing like a girl, shook her curl and gave the Colonel an arch, reproving tap.

Secret of eternal youth—where art thou?

Every second the answer comes—"Here, here, here."

Listen to thine own heartbeats, O weary seeker after external miracles.

"Those years," said Mrs. Blaylock, "in Holly Springs were long, long, long.

But now is the promised land in sight.

Skyland!—a lovely name."

"Doubtless," said the Colonel, "we shall be able to secure comfortable accommodations at some modest hotel at reasonable rates.

Our trunks are in Okochee, to be forwarded when we shall have made permanent arrangements."

J. Pinkney Bloom excused himself, went forward, and stood by the captain at the wheel.

"Mac," said he, "do you remember my telling you once that I sold one of those five-hundred-dollar lots in Skyland?"

"Seems I do," grinned Captain MacFarland.

"I'm not a coward, as a general rule," went on the promoter, "but I always said that if I ever met the sucker that bought that lot I'd run like a turkey.

Now, you see that old babe-in-the-wood over there?

Well, he's the boy that drew the prize.

That was the only five-hundred-dollar lot that went.

The rest ranged from ten dollars to two hundred.

His wife writes poetry.

She's invented one about the high grounds of Georgia, that's way up in G.

They're going to Skyland to open a book store."

"Well," said MacFarland, with another grin, "it's a good thing you are along, J. P.; you can show 'em around town until they begin to feel at home."

"He's got three hundred dollars left to build a house and store with," went on J. Pinkney, as if he were talking to himself.

"And he thinks there's an open house up there."

Captain MacFarland released the wheel long enough to give his leg a roguish slap.

"You old fat rascal!" he chuckled, with a wink.

"Mac, you're a fool," said J. Pinkney Bloom, coldly.

He went back and joined the Blaylocks, where he sat, less talkative, with that straight furrow between his brows that always stood as a signal of schemes being shaped within.

"There's a good many swindles connected with these booms," he said presently.

"What if this Skyland should turn out to be one—that is, suppose business should be sort of dull there, and no special sale for books?"

"My dear sir," said Colonel Blaylock, resting his hand upon the back of his wife's chair, "three times I have been reduced to almost penury by the duplicity of others, but I have not yet lost faith in humanity.

If I have been deceived again, still we may glean health and content, if not worldly profit.

I am aware that there are dishonest schemers in the world who set traps for the unwary, but even they are not altogether bad.

My dear, can you recall those verses entitled 'He Giveth the Increase,' that you composed for the choir of our church in Holly Springs?"

"That was four years ago," said Mrs. Blaylock; "perhaps I can repeat a verse or two.

"The lily springs from the rotting mould; Pearls from the deep sea slime; Good will come out of Nazareth All in God's own time.

"To the hardest heart the softening grace Cometh, at last, to bless; Guiding it right to help and cheer And succor in distress.

"I cannot remember the rest.

The lines were not ambitious.

They were written to the music composed by a dear friend."

"It's a fine rhyme, just the same," declared Mr. Bloom.

"It seems to ring the bell, all right.

I guess I gather the sense of it.

It means that the rankest kind of a phony will give you the best end of it once in a while."

Mr. Bloom strayed thoughtfully back to the captain, and stood meditating.

"Ought to be in sight of the spires and gilded domes of Skyland now in a few minutes," chirruped MacFarland, shaking with enjoyment.

"Go to the devil," said Mr. Bloom, still pensive.

And now, upon the left bank, they caught a glimpse of a white village, high up on the hills, smothered among green trees.

That was Cold Branch—no boom town, but the slow growth of many years.

Cold Branch lay on the edge of the grape and corn lands.