If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

"Be sure and call me early in the morning, daddy," she said. "And you'll help me take my presents off the tree, won't you? Oh, I'm so happy!"

Holding fast to her queer battered doll, she was soon in slumber deep. Martin stood watching her sweet chubby face lying on the rough pillow, and in spite of himself tears came into his eyes. He threw himself upon the chair before the fire. If anyone had told him one year ago that a mere child could so capture his heart and weave such a wonderful spell about him he would have scorned the idea. But now that little being lying there was far dearer to him than life, and to think that such a sorrow should come to her in the morning!

Time and time again he replenished the fire from a liberal supply of wood in the corner. He felt that it would be useless to go to bed, for he knew that he could not sleep. How long he sat thus he could not tell, but he was at length aroused by the faint jingle of bells, and a noise outside. He sprang to his feet and listened eagerly. Yes, it must be the Indians! Hurrying to the door, he threw it open, and peered forth. There before him were the forms of men and dogs. The former were busily unfastening something from their sleds. His greetings to the natives were answered by several grunts. They were too anxious to get to their own lodges to waste any time in talk just now. Presently several parcels were handed to him, and Martin was much surprised at their number. He placed them upon the floor, and when the Indians had departed he closed the door, and carried the bundles over to the fire.

With much satisfaction Martin now examined each parcel. Yes, there was everything he had ordered—rice, sugar, beans, tea, tobacco, pencils, paper, and several other things. Then his face grew grave, for he could not find the presents he had ordered for Nance. With a sinking heart he placed the goods against the wall, and was standing looking down upon them when a noise was heard at the door. It opened, and an Indian stepped into the room. He was carrying a parcel in his hands.

"Injun no savvey," he quietly remarked. "Injun all sam' lose 'um." Saying which he held forth the bundle, and, turning, left the building.

Martin seized the parcel, and hastily tore off the paper wrapping. Then he gave vent to an exclamation of joy, for lying before him were the presents for Nance. He did not touch them at first, but crossing the room stood for a while gazing upon the sleeping child. A new feeling now possessed his heart, and he was anxious for morning to come that he might watch the joy in her sparkling eyes.

Going back to the presents, he examined them, and was greatly surprised at the number. He had no idea before that they kept so many things at the trading-post. There were several picture-books as well, and such a pretty little dress, and candy in coloured bags, all neatly made.

As he turned the various things over a piece of paper caught his eye. Picking it up, he read the words written thereon. As he did so his face grew dark, and the light of joy died out of his eyes. It was from the trader at Fort O' Rest. He did not keep toys, so he wrote, but a mission post had been established there the previous summer, and he had shown the missionary and his wife the birch-bark letter. They accordingly became much interested in the little girl away in the wilderness, and had made up the parcel of presents for her.

This was the substance of the letter, and every word burnt itself into Martin's soul. He sank into his chair, holding the paper in his hand, which trembled from the vehemence of his emotion. So these presents were the gift of the Church. He knew very well that they had been sent in a bale to the mission by some society of the Church to which he had once belonged. The words of his old bishop flashed into his mind: "Do you imagine that you can cut yourself off from the influence of the Church of your childhood? I tell you that you are mistaken, for such a thing is utterly impossible. The Church and her influence will follow you to the grave no matter to what part of the world you go." Martin groaned as he realised how true were these words. He had laughed at them when first spoken, fool that he was. How little he knew and understood the power of the Church.

He rose abruptly to his feet. He seized several of the presents in his hands and carried them to the fire. He would not take them from the Church, no, not for the sake of the child he loved. He could endure her sorrow rather than the bitter remorse which was sure to follow him.