The lost line

Front matter

Class _.IBXi74^

Book J^fc _

GopightN?

Dedication

To the Memory of my precious mother, who by a mighty faith in God against great odds, triumphed, winning a victor's crown; Born in 1822 on the frontier in Missouri, torch-bearer for the King in the wilderness of Southwestern Iowa in 1852, translated to the fair city of God in 1897, this volume is dedicated by,

THE AUTHOR.

THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE

Chapter I. A Meal In The Desert

On the morning of the twenty-fifth of September 1910, a party of travelers from Old Mexico stopped at a water-hok in that mysterious and fascinating portion of our country, the Great Southwest. This hole is famous for the part it played in the early days of the white man in that region. Whatever else a man has, or does not have in the desert, he must have water. Lands, gold and precious stones are valuable things for which a man will go far and suffer much; but out under the scorching heat of the desert sun, his tongue swelling, eyes blood shot, and every fiber of his being calling for the moisture it craves, man will brook no barriers to water!

For access to this "fountain of life^', fierce battles were fought in those days when might ruled. Almost every tre« and rock in it's vicinity marks the spot where the career of some brave contestant, white man or Indian, suddenly canae to a tragic end.

The company making camp there that September morn, was headed by Antonio Gutirez, a Mexican gentleman of noble bearing and benevolent face. Associated with him was Pedro Zamora, an Indian in whose veins flowed just enough Spanish blood to soften a bit his rugged features.

Everything about the camp indicated wealth and refinement. Several tents of generous size stood under the friendly shade of great spreading trees. A group of servants looked after the wants of the pack ponies and saddle horses, while others were busy about a crackling fire where the midday meal was being prepared.

While the camp was astir with preparations, Senor Gutirez and his companion strolled leisurely about the famous spot noting its environs, the rock formations, and now and again stopping to gaze out over the vast stretch of desert to the eastward, the spur of the moutain range on which the water-hole was located, affording them a fine view.

Suddenly the Indian drew himself up to his full height, and pointing far out over the desert to the North-east with his bony index finger, exclaimed, "Hombre, Senor!"

The other man quickly adjusted a pair of powerful glasses to his eyes and after scanning the desert for a time responded :

"Yes, Zamora, and he is in distress. His pack pony is evidently giving out, for he has fallen in behind it and is making a despera+e effort to reach the water here.*'

"Si, Senor!" responded the Indian, as though he too, had reached the same conclusion.

A call from a servant at this time indicated the tents were ready that the men might bathe and have a short siesta before the meal was served.

"No, Mino" responded the master, "A man is struggling out yonder in the desert and if he does not get on well, Senor Zamora and myself will want our horses to go to his assistance. And will you tell Paz to make preparation for him; for he will be my guest today?'*

"Si, Senor,*' came the response from the faithful servant in a tone which indicated complete devotion to his master.

Some eight miles out on the desert, where the heat was almost unbearable, a man of about thirty years of age, tall, well proportioned, with the bearing of an athlete, was making the fight of his life.

His mount was a splendid chestnut sorrel, whose clean strong limbs and lithe body bespoke generations of breeding for speed and endurance; but, as the two men watching from the water-hole had surmised, the young man was in dire distress. He had broken camp at three o'clock that morning, and all had gone well until sun-up; then the pack pony began to show signs of distress; since that time his g'ait had been growing slower and slower, until now he was just able to stagger along.

The oppressive silence that broods over the desert like a menacing presence was broken only by the crunching of the horses feet in the sand, the labored breathing of the cayuse, and the restless champing of the bits by the chestnut saddle horse who chafed under the restraint.

Great spirals of yellow dust rose many feet in the air and went slowly swirling past the lone rider like lost hopes mocking the one in whose breast hope is dead. High overhead a vulture strong of wing and keen of scent, was describing great circles in search of a "lead^^ that would bring her to her coveted dinner. Just a little way back in the greasewood and cactus a hungry coyote skulked, as if in anticipation of what was coming.

The lone rider was at his wits end. Long since, he had transferred the pack from the back of the pony to his own horse v/here with difficulty it was carried. The last water from the desert water bag had been given to the struggling animal with the hope that its strength might be kept up till shade and an abundance of water were reached where its life might be saved.

As he was casting about in his mind trying to think of something more he could do than he had done, the cayuse stopped, sv^ayed an instant and then fell broadside on the hot sand. Springing lightly from thrj saddle the young man endeavored to assist his faithful animal in any way he might, but it was useless; for the pony was dead almost as soon as it touched the ground. Now it was to be a race with death to the water-hole; for thirst, desert thirst, was beginning to tell on the merciful master and his mount.

Taking the pack from the back of the Chestnut, he unrolled it and removed every article that was not absolutely essential to his own safety and that of his horse. Then he fastened the lightened roll to his saddle, remounted, and in a little more than an hour was at the v/ater-hole.

Senor Gutirez and the Indian had gone out on the trail a little way to meet the approaching traveler.

"Good morning, mio amico", cheerily called the white man. "That was a brave fight you made out there; I was watching you through my glasses and had I not seen that you were coming out all right we would have gone to your assistance. I am Antonio Gutirez of Mexico City, and this is my friend Senor Zamora. You are to be my guest to day, Senor, and right welcome you are to all that I have."

Weak from heat and from thirst the young man dismounted with difficulty but he cordially shook the hands of his new-made friends.

"I am Charles George Winthrop," he said, "late of Highland City; but I am now on my way to Black Diamond where I have been appointed pastor of the Methodist church. It certainly is very kind of you, Senor, to offer me the hospitality of your camp.''

They had now reached the edge of the camp and no storm-tossed mariner ever experienced' a keener joy on reaching port, than the young man felt on reaching this place of shelter. The air was filled with the aroma of coffee, the savory odors of roasting meats and chilli con came; while the camp rang v/ith the laughter and song of happy servants busy at their tasks. Then Senor Gutirez taking the reins of his guest's horse called to a servant:

"Here, Pancho,, take the Senor's horse; and look well to him now, for he is very hot and tired."

"Si, Senor," responded the man, "I fix heem". And he led the horse away to receive the treatment that only a son of the desert knows how to give.

"But you, Senor Winthrop, are nearly exhausted with the long ride and your fearful strain out there in that terrific heat:" said Gutirez, as he led him to one of the tents. "This (tent is at your disposal. In it you will find water, tov/els, and brushes, and when you are refreshed suffciently our midday meal will be served. I need not warn you to drink but little water until you are somewhat cooled."

When they were seated at the itable which was spread in the generous shade of a large tree, young Winthrop said:

"You doubtles Avonder at my crossing this desert country to my new field of labor. My love for the saddle and for adventure coupled with the fact that it was the simplest way to transport my horse, to which I have become ardently attached, led me to undertake the trip. But it was a close call for me out /there in that heat, I can assure you. I did not know whether I could make it or not."

"It was your horse'\ responded Senor Gutirez. "Such a horse carries a great amount of reserve force for such emergencies.^'

"Are you suificiently acquainted with this country to direct me to Black Diamond?" asked Mr. Winthrop.

"O, yes/' answered the host, "I have been there many times; came through there the day before yesterday, in fact. It lies slightly to the southeast. If you should leave here at midnight, you will travel directly south until you near the next water suppy; then /the trail bears sharply to the east. You should reach that camping place by ten o'clock tomorrow morning; and then if you leave there at midnight, you should be at your destination ait ten o'clock the next day."

"Thank you, Senor Gutirez," responded young Winthrop with characteristic western heartiness, and then he added, "This then, is not your first visi^t to the states?"

"Oh, no;" ansv/ered the Mexican with a smile; "I have been in this country many, many times."

"Have your travels been confined to this, and to your own land?" Mr. Winthrop inquired further.

"No," replied Senor Gutirez; "though I have been to Europe only on two occasions. Senor Zamora and myself were educated in Paris, and I have been over there but once since."

"I enjoyed Europe, on the one short trip I made over there" returned Mr. Y/inthrop; "But I was mightly glad to get back home again. Its America for me, every time."

"I, too, like this side of the Atlantic best", the host replied, "and my present work is very interesting."

"I should like to hear about it."

"Well, at present", continued the host, "I am traveling in the United States studying conditions. I take cognizance of everyithing; especially of business, churches, and schools and colleges. Not wth any sinister motive, however, I can assure you. We are indeed glad to learn that you are a Protestant minister, for it has been my pleasure to work among Protesitants in a quiet way. Right now, Seno?

Zamora and I are carrying a message to them that bears all that life means to us."

Winthrop looked at him inquiringly for a moment for he was certain that (these men must be Catholics, and for men of that faith to bear a message to the Protestant ministry of the United States, represented considerable zeal, even if it was zeal without knowledge.

He was further mystified by the sound of a pen in the adjoining tent which had moved with steady rythm ever since the meal began. Brave man ithat he was, there v/ere creeipy feelings in the vicinity of his spine for a moment. But he recovered himself completely as he looked into the kindly face of his host, seeing nothing but the deepest candor there.

"No(t many miles to the southward^^ Senor Gutirez began, "running east and west is a strong barbed vdre fence. At intervals of a mile, there are iron monuments bearing on the south side in Spanish, and on the north side in Englsh, the dates and agreements entered into by the Republic of Mexico and the United States concerning the boundary line which the fence marks. You may look southward through the sunfilled air of Mexico and say to yourself, *A land of sun and light, rock ribbed valleys, gorgeous scenery and entrancing mysiteries;' and not percieve a dark heavy pall over that fair land, as black and as real as the enfolding arms of night. You know to what I refer?" asked Gutirez.

"You are meaning the state of enlightenment, I should judge,'' responded the guest.

"Ah Laloy — The light — yes the enlightenment". Gutirez replied reflectively.

"You will perceive more readily", he continued, "what I am thinking, when you picture your self exploring an ancient vine and moss covered ruin with it's stones crumbling into decay, and suddenly come upon a sulky old owl in a musty darkened corner as I have done many times in Europe. This moping old bird, hiding away contentedly from God's sunlight, prefering the dark odors of decay, disputing your right to intrude, ready to sink its talons into anything that disturbs its retreat, is the truest type of the Catholic church of which I know.

"How often I have reflected the consistent type this makes; it's love of the dead and crumbling past; musing of past power and glories; dwelling and reflecting in the decay of an almost forgotten age, and viciously opposing the light and progress of the present.''

Young Winthrop looked at his host almost spell-bound as the intelligent eyes and mellow voice of the Mexican interpreted his thought and emotions.

Mr. Gutirez proceeded; ^'To change the figure, one of your English writers remarks; The dead rulers from their urns, and that hand that reaches out from a putresent viscid, quagmire of the past, has crushing weight and power. The Church it represents, reaches out of the dismal and cruel past and blights with it's suppressing grip, any or all, that would intrude upon its retreat and its stinking and musty tombs'. You being a Protestant, of the religion of protest, are happy in being so situated. You are familiar with these ihings?" he asked.

"In a general way, yes; but I must confess, I have given it but a passing investigation," replied young Winthrop.

"Ah it is, pleasure to discuss this with you then", continued Mr. Gutirez, "My fair land is as rich in natural resources as the fabled Eldorado; yet it is a country of poverty peonage and banditti; a land where the few roll in wealth and luxury while women and children starve in the streets of the very cities where sleek priests and prelates live in palatial residences and ride in elegant equipages supported by the pesos wrung from the squalid populace."

"Son Diablos to dos!" cried the Indian with a vehemence that was startling. His face was livid. The veins of his forehead and neck enlarged as though they would burst.

The guesit was reassured however, when his host responded in a tone indicating he v/as not unused to such outbursts.

"No Senor Zamora, they are not all devils; but it is the ripe fruit of that system calling itself the -only true Church of Jesus Christ upon the earth. The system whose policy has always been to keep the people in subjection and ignorance in all those lands where it gets undisputed sway."

"My reading of Mexican history", interposed the guest, "led me to the conclusion that when Cortez invaded the land he found an interesiting happy people, rich in everything necessary to their simple life. Heathen it is true, practicing some rites that were horrible in the extreme, and that by force of course, they were made to give up their religion for that of the Catholic church; but, that much of the cruelty perpetrated on them, can not be laid at the door of the Church as such."

"True enough'^ responded his host, "But too well do we who were suckeled at the breast of the church know it's nature. It has ever had itwo gods to which it has bowed the knee. One is money, the other power — the musical ring of gold and the clink of silver has ever been sweeter sounds to her than the cry of the prodigal coming back to the Father. I notte with a sad heart as I walk among the poor of my people that the Church's policy is no pesos, no marriage ceremony; no pesos, no baptism; no pesos, no burial of the dead, and so on through all the list of those things the church itself holds to be absolutely necessary to the well-being of the people."

Young Winthrop had imperceptibly been awakened to an interest that was alinvolving by the emest words of this man whose people had suffered so much at the hands of the very organization that should have sheltered and blest them. The depths of a frank courageous nature had been plumbed by these startling truths, and he found himself saying, "These sad truths you have uttered stir me profoundly. There is undoubtedly an element deeper than the great words you have spoken that touches and stirs my nature to it's depths; it is your sincerity; your love for the truth, for your people, and for mankind. I thank you most sincerely".

"Be happy my young friend" answered Mr. Gutirez, *that your fair land is blighted but little with the insidious ▼enom of this darkness loving power. But it is being blighted; that is why I speak. That is why I work as I can with the Protestant ministry.

"They can prevent it's deadly work. If they are indifferent, the evil leaven will work till the whole land is involved; then that bit of wire down on the ^Line' can be removed for we will be one land and one people. Your liberties will be gone; your boasted freedom a thing of the past! Already the man on The Tiber has purposed to make your land Catholic. That is the stroke of all the strokes of genius made by that system that never sleeps, for well do they know your nation is the coming nation of all the world; and to have that nation Cathoic is to have the world in its control."

The steady rhythm of the pen in the adjoining tent had not ceased during this interesting interview. While Winthrop marveled at it, all feeling that it had any connection with the conversation was gone; and he was at perfect ease w^hen his host arose and announced, "The sun is well on its way to the horizon. I must break camp at midnight. You are weary, Senor Winthrop from your trying experience of the morning, and greatly need rest. You will occupy the tent assigned you, so I will bid you a good afternoon, wishing you refreshing sleep and a better tomorrow.''

The guest arose, took the proffered hand and shook it heartily, thanking his host for his great kindness and for the pleasure and profit the conversation had afforded him; but insisted on putting up his own tent under a nearby tree.

When this was pitched, and some preparations were being made on the inside he saw a young woman of marvelous beauty come out of the tent from which the sounds of writing had proceeded and pass swiftly to the tent of the servant woman. Her features were decided Spanish and her large lustrous eyes were as dark as midnight. Every movement was with the ease and grace of a queen. It was not simply her beauty however that seemed to entrance and hold young Winthrop spellbound, as it was the subtle charm of character that seemed to show in her face.

It was a long time after he had lain down, before he could compose himself for sleep, so full had the day been; but by and by, tired nature asserted itself, and, lost to his surroundings he sank into gentle slumber.

Chapter II. The Dream Manuscript

The morning sun was just peeping up over the desert sands when young Winthrop awoke. So soundly had he slept it was some moments before he realized where he was, what had happened, and that, at that moment, he should have been well on his way to the next camping place.

Hastily dressing he stepped out into the sweet desert air. The camp was completely deserted, save for his own horse, that was tied to a tree some three hundred yards away and, who on seeing his master gave a glad whinney of recognition. At the foot of the tree under which his tent was pitched, was a pack containing abundant rations for three days, and on top of the pack lay a large bundle which he found to be a manuscript v/ritten in a clear free hand.

At the sight of this, strange questions arose in young Winthrop's mind. "Was it the work of that fair young woman whom he had the privilege of seeing for a brief moment the day before? Was this an explanation of those sounds of writing he had heard as he sat at the table with Gutriez? If the young woman v/as the authoress, why should she leave the manuscript with him?"

But here he was aroused from his questionings by another whinney from "Selim'^ who needed care and was anxious for his master's companionship.

One thing he was thoroughly awakened to was the impossibility now, of breaking camp till night fall. So he hurried av/ay to his horse, watering him and then leading him to vvhere the rich Grama grass was growing in abund- ' ance, he hobbled him and left him to feed and rest at will.

Coming back to the tent, he lighted a fire, made coffee took from the pack provisions and proceeded to appease the hunger his long fast had produced.

When the meal was out of the way he settled himself in a comfortable place, opened the manuscript that so strangely had com.e to his hands, and became so absorbed in it, he finished it before continuing his journey to Black

Diamond and the following is what he found and now shares with you:

A DREAMER'S DREAM.

The following pages contain a faithful account of the vivid experiences of a recent summer night which because of the marvelous changes I saw in my dream had taken place in world conditions, I call,

"A Glimpse into the Future."

A party of us, tv/enty young women and as many young gentlemen had gone very early on a July morning to the "Hill of the Star", just a little way out from Mexico City for a picnic. There were with us devoted chaperons, and faithful servants who hung the swings and hammocks, looked after the other devisies for our pleasure, and spread the lunch. But contrary to all indications of the morning, the day even in this delightful little mountain, was extremely warm; but in spite of this we gave ourselves fully to pleasure, each member of the company being at the top of the hill at least once, to enjoy the marvelous view it afforded.

When we reluctantly turned our faces towards home, the sun had gone dov/n, and the full moon v/as shedding her mellow light in wonderous prodigality over moutain and plain, and the balmy air was redolent with the perfume of many flowers.

I was so weary when I reached home, and such a strange drowsiness had come over me, that when I went into my room, I threw myself without disrobing upon the couch. The water of the fountain out in the garden as it splashed and fell, made music so soothing, that, ere I was aware I had fallen asleep, and as I slept I dreamed. I stood in my dream in Columbus, New Mexico; But a marvelous change had come to it. Instead of a village of a few hundred, it had grown to a city of half a million people. Strange as everything appeared, I seemed to know it was Columbus. The outlying country too had changed as marvelously as had the village. From a semi-desert, covered witlh mesquite, cactus and greasewood, it had become a land of orchards, vineyards, and fruitful fields. Water had been brought in from a natural fountain to the south, and from other sources, to make this mighty transformation possible.

I could see some sort of celebration was on, for throngs of gaily dressed people filled the broad streets, magnificent plazas and the fantastically decorated booths.

Great airships in the form of gigantic birds, went and came, alighting or arising at the will of their pilots. The principals governing the navagation of the air seemed to be 'io well understood, that conformity to the old types was no longer necessary.

"Surely," I thought, "I must be in a new world, or else I am dreaming.^'

Then my eyes fell upon a great banner stretched acra&s what seemed to be the principal thoroughfare, bearing these dates, in great gilt figures: "1973-2023'\

"But''\ I mused, "why those dates? This is 1910 and I cannot understand why those two dates are associated as they are."

As I puzzled over the riddle, — I noticed a man in plain attire and of a serious countenance standing a little apart from the merry makers; so I made bold to cross over to him saying, "Pardon me, kind sir, but as this is Monday the Fifth of July, I suppose these Americans are celebrating the Independence from King George to day. But I cannot see why they have those dates on yonder banner?''

His face became animated in an instant, and leading me to a seat stood, till I was seated; then taking another facing me he said, "You speak as a Mexican would have spoken in the long go."

"But I am a Mexican,'' I replied with all the emphasis I could command; "A resident of Mexico City."

Then his serious face bore the first faint trace of a smile as he asked, "But do you not know that we are all one country now? There is no Mexico or United States of America any more; but one country, Columbia; named so in honor of that Son of the Church who discovered the western world!"

"Well it is strange I have not heard of that," I replied; my wonder growing every moment.

"No, they are not celebrating the fourth of July," he said, "All that it represents is forgotten. They are celebrating the removal of the seat of the Papal See from Rome, to Washington, D. C, where a new Vatican has been built, excelling in magnificence the one on the Tiber, as day exceeds night. The change was made July Fifth, 1973."

"But", I interposed, "the people and their surroundings do not seem to have suffered. Who could ask for greater beauty and magnificence; and the people seem to be care free, prosperous, and happy."

"Yes," he answered, "THESE are; but three fifths of this once free nation are slaves, or as good as slaves. Peons; and in that class are descendants of some of the wealthiest and proudest old families of the beginning of the 20th century. These you see are the wealthy educated class."

Just then a magnificent airship that looked like a great white swan, alighted a few rods away, and as the door opened a lordly man in immaculate white duck stepped out followed by his family and their servants.

"That man", continued my informant, "owns ten thousand acres of these productive lands. One thousand peons care for his broad acres. They and their families grind and sweat that he and his family may luxuriate as you see them doing to day."

"But how did this all come about?" I asked my astonishment increasing.

"The process was simple enough", continued the man", to those of us who know history", and lowering his voice he continued, "The Church thinks she has destroyed all the books containing the history of the past, but she has not. There are some who know how it all came about."

Here he looked guardedly about him and then for a moment searchingly at me.

"It is all right I assured him you can tell me all. I am not a spy, but a seeker after the truth. I want to know all."

"Pardon me," he said, "but I had not thought of the danger I was running in speaking to an utter stranger. I am surrounded by a power so absolute, if IT knew I know what I do, I would drop out of sight to night; either, my life would go for my knowledge, or I would be put where I would never see the lig^ht of day again. '^

Continuing with his entrancing account, he said, "The roots of this awful evil are intertwined and interlaced in the closing years of the 19th century. The fault can he laid at the door of the Protestant Churches!''

I began to enter a protest, but he waved it aside saying, "Hear me through and you will see.

"First, is it not perfectly logical, that as the simple truth of salvation from sin by faith in Jesus Christ as preached by an Augustinian monk, pulled the nations of Northern Europe up out of the quagmire where they had groveled for a thousand years, that the neglect of this truth would land the world in the same quagmire, or something worse ? "

"Well, yes, it is;" I responded hesitatingly; "knowing as we do, that man can be saved from sin only by faith in Christ."

"Well", he continued, the Protestant Churches gradually allowed the old insiduous error, that brought on the Dark Ages, to creep in till neither, in the pulpit, or church press, was faith in Christ taught at all. His death had no vicarous nature; it was only an incident in his holy life; he was simply an example. God looks upon men with favor because of their good works.