Martin’s repentance didn’t prove to be short-lived and evanescent—no, indeed!
He divided his property equally between himself and his little pardner. He invested his pardner’s money to the best of his knowledge, and every cent of the interest of that money, and it is a immense sum—millions of dollars. He uses it only as the steward of his pardner. It all goes to help the poor—to try to defend ’em from dangers, temporal and speritual, from want, and from the worst of all dangers—Ignorance and Crime.
Dear little Silent Pardner! I wonder if you know it? I wonder if, when grateful hearts rise in prayer, callin’ you the saviour of their lives and happiness—I wonder if them prayers and grateful thoughts bloom out in some divine way, as they reach the Heavenly country, so you can see the desire of your little heart, and know that it is granted?
Are you ever permitted to come down in the stillness of a Summer evenin’ and stand clost by the side of that white-haired old man, who grew old so fast after you left him, whose heart yearns for you, and who is a-tryin’ so faithfully to carry out his little pardner’s wishes? He sez that sometimes he feels that you are so near to him that he almost expects to see your face blossom out of the dark, like the evenin’ star out of the misty twilight. And so he can live, he sez.
Did you stand in the church when Alice wuz married to the man she loved? A ray of gold light shone out sudden and luminous and lit her sweet face as she took her solemn vows.
Wuz it you, little Pardner? wuz the joy and glory in your face permitted to shine for a moment on the one you loved, in the supreme hour of her life?
We can’t tell this, little Adrian, but we see your work goin’ on from day to day, and we bless you for it.
We see it in the safety and protection thrown around the masses, protectin’ ’em from physical and moral ills; in the great free school which bears your name; in the Adrian Home, where sick and poor children find a home and tender care; in the University, where your picter hangs over the doorway—a doorway where any poor, ignorant boy may enter, and go out a scholar; in the large, plain church, whose best ornament is the stained-glass winder bearin’ your name in gold letters, where a pure Christianity is taught to all, rich and poor, and the Blessed Master is brought near to sad lives by the anointed lips of consecrated genius—where rich and poor worship the God man together. The poor givin’ their strength and good-will, the rich givin’ their wealth and learnin’, and so becomin’ a strong bulwark, protectin’ society from the high flood of undisciplined passions—Ignorance and Crime.
Do you see it all, little Pardner? Sometimes I think you do.
I am writin’ this at the open winder you looked out of as you sed you would work for the poor.