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Thurston, I. T. (Ida Treadwell), 1848-1918

"The Bishop's Shadow"

They called him "our bishop," and they felt that they had lost
one who loved them--one who was indeed their friend.
But not one, whether within or without the church, not one grieved
more deeply for the grand, beautiful life so suddenly cut off than did
the lad who stood without and listened to the solemn tones of the
great organ, and watched with eyes dim with tears as the black-draped
coffin was borne out to its burial. The boy stood there until the last
of the long line of carriages had passed him; then he stepped forward
and, alone and on foot, he followed to the cemetery.
When all was over, he went sorrowfully homeward, feeling as if there
was a great blank in his life--a blank that could never be filled;
that the world could never again seem bright to him; but that evening
Mr. Scott came, and his affectionate sympathy comforted the boy's sore
heart. His teacher made him feel that now, more than ever, he must be
"the bishop's shadow." To Theodore, his small ministries to the
forlorn and suffering ones about him, seemed, indeed, as nothing when
he recalled the wide-reaching labours of the bishop, but as the days
went on these small ministries grew to be the joy of his life.
Mr. Scott, watching him closely, saw how week by week he became more
unselfish and thoughtful for others; more eager to help any who needed
his help.


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