And then his
acquaintance with Father Orin had brought him in close contact with want
as well as suffering, and would have given him good uses for larger
means than his own. Yet rude and empty as the cabin was, there were
traces of refinement here and there, as there always must be wherever
true refinement dwells. A miniature of his mother, whom he could not
remember, hung against the logs at the head of his bed. There were a few
good books on a rough shelf, and a spray of autumn leaves lay on the
table. The beauty of the leaves had drawn him to break the spray from
the bough and bring it home. But he had forgotten it as soon as he had
laid it down on the table, and the leaves were withering as he sat
beside them with his head bowed upon his hands.
The man of conscience, who cares for the bodies of his kind, bears
almost as heavy a burden as he who cares for their souls. He must
everywhere, and unrestingly, fight ignorance and prejudice with one
hand, while he strives to heal with the other, and this double strife
was fiercer in the wilderness, just at that time, than almost anywhere
else within the furthest reach of science.
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