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PAGE 4

An Erring Shepherd
by [?]

At this moment began a fearful knocking on a side door, that threatened the speedy demolition of the frail barrier. “Run, run,” whispered Ragem, as if in the extremity of terror, “the police are on us.”

The preacher needed no second invitation, fear of exposure giving wings to his feet. Almost at a bound he cleared the two flights of stairs and emerged into the street, walking several blocks, and turning a number of corners before he dared to look back.

The bona fide occupant of the room where these parties met had no share whatever in the nefarious transactions carried on there. Through the treachery of the janitor, Ragem was permitted at certain hours to make use of the apartment for the purpose of keeping appointments with his victims. A confederate stationed on the outside delivered the knocks as soon as customers were plucked and it became desirable to get rid of their company. Occasional hints of improper practices reached the ear of the real lessee, but these had never yet taken such shape as to give a decisive clew to the trouble, dupes for the most part pocketing their losses in silence.

After an interval of two or three hours Mr. Sapp plucked up courage to return. Having mounted the stairs, he entered the room warily. His late partner was not there. A stalwart gentleman, who seemed to be the proprietor, 1ooked up inquiringly, and was not a little puzzled when the visitor supplemented the performance of wiping the right corner of his mouth by three deliberate nods. “What can I do for you to-day?” inquired the gentleman, rising.

“You are, I presume, a partner of Mr. Ragem,” answered Sapp. “I see he is out. Our business this morning was unfortunately interrupted by the police, and I have returned to complete it.”

“What business?” asked the proprietor, in undisguised astonishment.

Now the preacher made the very natural mistake of supposing that the surprise manifested by his interlocutor was a mere matter of policy and caution. Hence he proceeded to explain. “Ragem must have told you. I am the gentleman who gave him the five hundred dollars, and he said that my twenty-five thousand were locked up in the safe.”

The proprietor did not wait to hear more, but seizing the affrighted creature by the collar, thundered forth, “I have heard of you before. You are the villain, are you, who has been turning my office into a den of thieves? I have caught you at last!”

Awaking to a partial comprehension of the situation, the poor wretch stammered forth, “There must be some mistake. My name is a– is a–is a Smith–Smith–John Smith.”

“John Smith, is it?” growled the proprietor. “Well, all I have to say is, John Smith, if not the biggest is the most numerous rascal in the city. John, come along to the police station.”

And John went, billows of trouble rolling over him as the waters of the Red Sea closed over Pharaoh. Vain the effort to recall consolatory texts pertinent to the occasion! He was sorely chastened indeed, but the stripes were inflicted not in love but in wrath. He mourned, yet whence could he look for comfort?

To avoid a worse fate, the prisoner revealed his identity, exhibited the correspondence from “Ragem & Co.,” and made a full statement of the facts. The painful news reached the church shortly after the return of the pastor, when his pulpit career came to an ignominious end. He soon removed to the far West, hoping to bury his disgrace in the shades of the primeval forest.

The fall of Rev. Zachariah Sapp sounds a note of warning not without its lessons. The only safety in dealing with temptation is to repel its insidious approaches from the outset. Whoever listens in patience to the siren whisper is half lost already. Human experience abundantly confirms the divine wisdom of the command, “Get thee behind me, Satan,” as the one sole safe way of meeting evil advances. At the close of well-spent, useful lives, myriads can thank a kind Providence, not that they have been stronger than others who have turned out differently, but that they have been tried less. Walking among unseen perils, none can without danger of ruin discard even for a moment the armor of honesty and truth.