The Black Forge Mills

by William P. Chipman

"Did I ever tell you, George," he then asked, "that my mother was born in this town?"

"No," replied George, in some surprise.

"It is a fact," answered he; "she was born about a mile out of this village, and lived there until she was quite a girl. Her maiden name was Wenton, and it's from some of her folks most likely that the village takes its name."

"There used to be an old grist mill on the stream near where the factory now stands, owned and run by a man named Isaac Wenton; that gave rise to the name of Wenton's Mill, and when a post office and railroad station were established here, it was shortened to Wenton," explained George.

"He was my mother's uncle," said Jack; "but what I'm coming at is this: I have bought that knoll of Chapman, and I'm going to erect a neat, comfortable chapel on the lot at my own expense, and call it Wenton Memorial Chapel, in memory of my mother. Whenever you organize a church here, I'll present the property to it, and add funds enough to keep the building in constant repair."

And he was as good as his word. As soon as the plans could be perfected, the building was begun, and before another winter came the Wenton Memorial Church was organized with twenty-four members, and took possession of the valuable chapel property.

But let us now look at some of the persons at Wenton in whom we have already become interested, for there have been changes in them also during the past two years. The mill whistle blew sharply for noon, and a stout, well-dressed gentleman stepped out from the mill office, and nodded pleasantly to the employés, who were passing him on their way to their homes. He was soon joined by a young lady, from the office also, and the two walked up the street toward a neat cottage near its end. The gentleman was Mr. George Branford, superintendent of the Wenton Manufacturing Company; for a corporation of which Mr. Bacon was president now controlled and ran the mill, and this accounted for the many improvements in the mill property and village that we have already noticed. George has developed into a first-class business man, and when the corporation was organized a year before, he was unanimously chosen superintendent at a handsome salary. The young lady by his side was his youngest sister, who had taken a course of study at a commercial college, and was now bookkeeper in the mill office. The two other sisters have married Christian men, and live in adjoining cottages over in the new row next to the hillside. That matronly woman standing on the porch of yonder cottage is our old friend Betsy Branford, though you would scarcely recognize her as the pale, thin woman we last saw at the Forge. Good care, nourishing food, and abundant help in the household duties have wrought this change. You can see, too, by her thoughtful, intelligent face that she has kept pace with her husband in his mental growth, and that her religious faith is still strong and fervent. A glance within the cottage, moreover, at its tastefully-arranged apartments, its well-filled bookcases, and its air of comfort, tells of a refinement and culture you would scarcely have expected to see. It is wonderful how the grace of God can in so little time transform a whole household; but it has been done here. Greeting her husband and sister with kisses, Betsy says:

"Dinner is all on the table. I will call father, and we will sit down at once."

In answer to her call, an old white-haired man came briskly in from the garden, and his neat dress, his pleasant features, and his quiet, gentlemanly appearance indicate a great change in Mr. Branford, the elder. That prison life, under God's blessing, reformed the man. His heart was touched as he entered those prison gates. Ray and George and the girls had all, at times, visited him. They wrote to him frequently, and even tried to point him to the "Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world." Nor were those visits and letters without their influence upon him. But it was that Bible that Ray gave him, and the Spirit's influence on the truth, as the penitent man pored over its pages, that finally gave him peace. God's time came, and the answer to the prayers that had so earnestly been lifted up for him was granted. He found Jesus precious unto his soul. He is very doubtful of himself. He has made no great professions; but all who knew him in his old life can see the change. Through good behavior his term of service was materially shortened, and for some months now he has made his home with George, going faithfully to every religious service, working at whatsoever he can find to do, asking no favors of any one, yet thankful if he can be of use anywhere.

The family now sit down at the table, and the four children, young as they are, all bow their heads as George asks the blessing, and throughout the meal one would be impressed by the perfect order that reigned. There is evidently good training in that home.