A WHITE SUNDAY.
AMONG other topics that were discussed with great interest during that
call at Dr. Dennis' was the Sunday-school, and the place that our girls
were to take in it, Flossy was not likely to forget that matter. Her
heart was too full of plans concerning "those boys."
Early in the talk she overwhelmed and embarrassed Dr. Dennis with the
request that she might be allowed to try that class. Now if it had been
Ruth or Marion who had made the same request, it would have been
unhesitatingly granted. The doctor had a high opinion of the
intellectual abilities of both these young ladies, and now that they
had appeared to consecrate those abilities, he was willing to receive
them.
But this little summer butterfly, with her small sweet ways and winning
smile! He had no more idea that she could teach than that a humming-bird
could; and of all classes in the school, to expect to do anything with
those large wild boys! It was preposterous.
"My dear friend," he said, and he could hardly keep from smiling, even
though he was embarrassed, "you have no idea what you are asking! That
is altogether the most difficult class in the school. Some of our best
teachers have failed there. The fact is, those boys don't _want_ to be
instructed; they are in search of fun. They are a hard set, I am really
afraid. I wouldn't have you tried and discouraged by them. We are at a
loss what to do with them, I will admit; for no one who can do it seems
willing to try them. In fact, I am not sure that we have anyone who
_can_. I understand your motive, Miss Flossy, and appreciate your zeal;
but you must not crush yourself in that way. Since you have been out of
the Sunday-school for so many years, and, I presume, have not made the
Bible a study--unhappily, it is not used as a text book in many of our
schools--would it not be well for you to join some excellent Bible-class
for awhile? I think you would like it better, and grow faster, and we
really have some superior teachers among the Bible-classes."
And while he said this, the wise doctor hoped in his heart that she
would not be offended with his plain speaking, and that some good angel
would suggest to Marion Wilbur the propriety of trying that class of
boys.
Flossy was not offended, though Marion Wilbur, spoken to in the same
way, would have been certain to have felt it. Little Flossy, though
sorely disappointed, so much so that she could hardly keep the tears
from rising, admitted that she did not know how to teach, and that, of
course, she ought to study the Bible, and would like ever so much to do
so.
It so happened that the other girls were more than willing to be
enrolled as pupils; indeed, had not an idea of taking any other
position. So, after a little more talk, it was decided that they all
join Dr. Dennis' class, every one of them expressing a prompt
preference for that class above the others. In his heart Dr. Dennis
entirely approved of this arrangement, for he wanted the training of
Flossy and Eurie, and he meant to make teachers of the other two as soon
as possible.
Now it came to pass that an unlooked-for element came into all this
planning--none other than the boys themselves. They had ideas of their
own, and they belonged to that part of the world which is hard to
govern. They would have Miss Flossy Shipley to be their teacher, and
they would have no one else; she suited them exactly, and no one else
did.
"But, my dear boys," Dr. Dennis said, "Miss Shipley is new to the work
of teaching; she is but a learner herself; she feels that her place is
in the Bible-class, so that she may acquire the best ways of presenting
lessons."
"Did she say she wouldn't teach us?" queried Rich. Johnson, with his
keen eyes fixed on the doctor's face.
What could that embarrassed but truthful man do but slowly shake his
head, and say, hesitatingly:
"No, she didn't say that; but I advised her to join a Bible-class for
awhile."
"Then we want her," Rich. said, stoutly. "Don't we, boys? She just suits
us, Dr. Dennis; and she is the first one we ever had that we cared a
snap for. We had just about made up our minds to quit it; but, on the
whole, if we can have her we will give it another trial."
This strange sentence was uttered in a most matter-of-fact business way,
and the perplexed doctor, quite unused to dealing with that class of
brain and manners, was compelled to beat a retreat, and come to Flossy
with his novel report. A gleam of satisfaction, not to say triumph,
lighted up her pretty face, and aglow with smiles and blushes, she made
her way with alacrity to her chosen class. Teachers and scholars
thoroughly suited with each other; surely they could do some work during
that hour that would tell on the future. Meantime, the superintendent
was having his perplexities over in another corner of the room. He came
to Dr. Dennis at last for advice.
"Miss Hart is absent to-day; her class is almost impossible to supply;
no one is willing to try the little midgets."
"Miss Hart," Dr. Dennis repeated, thoughtfully; "the primary class, eh;
it is hard to manage; and yet, with all the sub-teachers present, one
would think it might be done."
"They are not all present," Mr. Stuart said. "They never are."
Dr. Dennis ignored this remark.
"I'll tell you what to do," he said, with a sudden lighting up of his
thoughtful face. "Get Miss Wilbur to go in there; she is equal to the
emergency, or I am much mistaken."
Mr. Stuart started in unqualified astonishment.
"I thought," he said, recovering his voice, "that you seriously objected
to her as a teacher in Sabbath-school?"
"I have changed my mind," Dr. Dennis said, with a happy smile, "or, the
Lord has changed her heart. Ask her to take the class."
So two of our girls found work.
Another thing occurred to make that Sabbath a memorable one. The evening
was especially lovely, and, there happening to be no other attraction,
a much larger number than usual of the First Church people got out to
the second service. Our girls were all present, and, what was unusual,
other representatives from their families were with them.
Also, Col. Baker had obliged himself to endure the infliction of another
sermon from Dr. Dennis, in order that he might have the pleasure of a
walk home in the glorious moonlight with Miss Flossy.
The sermon was one of special solemnity and power. The pastor's recent
communion with new-born souls had quickened his own heart and increased
the longing desire for the coming of the Spirit of God into their midst.
At the sermon's close, he took what, for the First Church, was a very
wide and startling departure from the beaten track. After a tender
personal appeal, especially addressed to the young people of his flock,
he said:
"Now, impelled by what I cannot but feel is the voice of the Lord Jesus,
by his Spirit, I want to ask if there are any present who feel so much
of a desire to be numbered with the Lord's friends, that they are
willing to ask us to pray for them, to the end that they may be found
of him. Is there one in this audience who, by rising and standing for
but a moment, will thus simply and quietly indicate to us such a desire
and willingness?"
Who ever heard of the First Church pastor doing so strange a thing? His
people had voted for festivals, and concerts, and lectures, and picnics,
and entertainments of all sorts and shades. They had taken rising votes,
and they had voted by raising the hand; they had made speeches, many of
them, on the questions to be presented; they had added their voice to
the pastor's explanations; they had urged the wisdom and the propriety
of the question presented; they had said they earnestly hoped the matter
would meet careful attention; and no one in the church had thought such
proceedings strange. But to ask people to rise in their seats, and thus
signify that they were thinking of the question of eternal life, and
home, and peace, and unutterable blessedness--what innovation was this?
Much rustling and coughing took place; then solemn silence prevailed.
Not a deacon there, or officer of any sort, had the least idea of
audibly hoping that the pastor's words would receive thoughtful
attention; not a person arose; the silence was felt to be embarrassing
and oppressive to the last degree.
Dr. Dennis relieved them at last by reading the closing hymn. During the
reading, when startled thoughts became sufficiently composed to flow in
their accustomed channels, many, almost unconsciously to themselves,
prepared speeches which they meant to utter the moment their lips were
unsealed by the pronouncing of the benediction.
"A very strange thing to do."
"What could Dr. Dennis be thinking of?"
"A most unwise effort to force the private lives of people before the
public."
"An unfortunate attempt to get up an excitement."
"Well meant, but most ill-timed and mistaken zeal, which would have a
reaction that would do harm."
These and a dozen other mental comments that roved through people's
brains, while they were supposed to be joining in the hymn of praise,
were suddenly cut short by the sound of Dr. Dennis' voice again--not in
benediction, as surely they had a right to expect by this time, but with
another appeal.
"I am still of the impression that there are those present who are doing
violence to their convictions of right, and to good judgment, by not
responding to my invitation. Let us remember to pray for all such. Now,
I want to ask if there are any in this congregation who have lately
proved the truth of the doctrine that there is a Saviour from sin, and a
peace that the world cannot give. If there are those present, who have
decided this question recently, will they rise for a moment, thus
testifying to the truth of the words which have been spoken this
evening, and thus witnessing that they have chosen the Lord Jesus for
their portion?"
Another sensation! Dr. Dennis must have taken leave of his senses! This
was more embarrassing than the last. The wise ones were sure that there
had been no conversions in a long time. So far as they knew and
believed, entirely other thoughts were occupying the minds of the
people.
Then, into the midst of this commotion of thought, there stole that
solemn hush, almost of heart-beatings, which betokens a new revelation,
that astonishes and thrills and solemnizes.
There were persons standing. Ladies! One--two--three. Yes, one in the
gallery. There were four of them! Who were they? Why, that little,
volatile Flossy Shipley was one! How strange! And that girl in the
gallery was the teacher at one of the Ward schools. It had been rumored
that she was an infidel!
Who in the world was that beside Judge Erskine? It couldn't be his
daughter! Yet it certainly was. And behold, in the doctor's pew stood
Eurie, the young lady who was so free and careless in her manners and
address, that, were it not for the fact that she was the doctor's
daughter, her very respectability would have stood a chance of being
questioned!
As it was, there were mothers in the church who were quite willing that
their daughters should have as little to do with her as possible. Yet,
to-night their daughters sat beside them, unable to rise, in any way to
testify to the truth of the religion of Jesus Christ; and Eurie
Mitchell, with grave, earnest face, in which decision and determination
were plainly written, stood up to testify that the Lord was true to his
promises.
Gradually there dawned upon the minds of many who knew these girls, the
remembrance that they had been together to that great Sunday-school
meeting at Chautauqua. How foolish the scheme had seemed to them when
they heard of it; how sneeringly they had commented on the absurdity of
such supposed representatives from the Sunday-school world.
Surely this seeming folly had been the power of God, and the wisdom of
God. There were those in the first church, as, indeed, there are many in
every church of Christ, who rejoiced with all their souls at the sound
of this good news.
There was another thing that occurred that night over which the angels,
at least, rejoiced. There was another witness. He was only a poor young
fellow, a day laborer in one of the machine shops, a new-comer to the
city. He knew almost nobody in that great church where he had chanced to
be a worshipper, and, literally no one knew him.
When the invitation was first given, he had shrunken from it. Satan,
with ever-ready skill, and with that consummate wisdom which makes him
as eager after the common day laborers as he is among the wealthy and
influential, had whispered to him that the pastor did not mean such as
he; no one knew him, his influence would be nothing. This church was too
large and too grand, and it was not meant that he should make himself so
conspicuous as to stand alone in that great audience-room, and testify
that the Lord Jesus had called him.
So he sat still; but as one and another of those young ladies arose
quietly, with true dignity and sweet composure testifying to their love
for the Lord, John Warden's earnest soul was moved to shame at his own
shrinking, and from his obscure seat, back under the gallery, he rose
up, and Satan, foiled that time, shrunk away.
As for our girls, they held no parley with their consciences, or with
the tempter; they did not even think of it. On the contrary, they were
glad, every one, that the way was made so plain and so easy to them.
Each of them had friends whom they especially desired to have know of
the recent and great change that had come to their lives. With some of
these friends they shrank unaccountably from talking about this matter.
With others of them they did not understand how to made the matter
plain.
But here it was explained for them, so plainly, so simply, that it
seemed that every one must understand, and their own future
determination as to life was carefully explained for them. There was
nothing to do but to rise up, and, by that simple act, subscribe their
names to the explanation--so making it theirs.
I declare to you that the thought of its being a cross to do so did not
once occur to them. Neither did the thought that they were occupying a
conspicuous position affect them. They were used to conspicuous
positions; they had been twice as prominent in that very church when
other subjects than religion had been under consideration.
At a certain festival, years before, they had every one taken part in a
musical entertainment that brought them most conspicuously before an
audience three times the size of the evening congregation. So you see
they were used to it.
And, as for the fancy that it becomes a more conspicuous and unladylike
matter to stand up for the Lord Jesus Christ, than it does to stand up
for anything else under the sun; Satan was much too wise, and knew his
material entirely too well, to suggest any such absurdity to them.
Flossy had been the only one of their number in the least likely to be
swayed by such arguments. But Flossy had set herself with earnest soul
and solemn purpose to follow the light wherever it should shine, without
allowing her timid heart time for questioning, and the father of all
evil finds such people exceedingly hard to manage.
"How do you do," said Dr. Dennis to John Warden, two minutes after the
benediction was fully pronounced. "I was very glad to see you to-night.
I am not sure that I have ever met you? No? I thought so; a stranger?
Well, we welcome you. Where do you board?"
And a certain black book came promptly out of the doctor's pocket. John
Warden's name, and street, and number, and business were written
therein, and John Warden felt for the first time in his life as though
he had a Christian brother in that great city, and a name and a place
with the people of God.
Another surprise awaited him. Marion and Eurie were right behind him.
Marion came up boldly and held out her hand:
"We seem to have started on the road together," she said. "We ought to
shake hands, and wish each other a safe journey."
Then she and Eurie and John Warden shook each other heartily by the
hand; and Flossy, standing watching, led by this bolder spirit into that
which would not have occurred to her to do, slipped from her place
beside Col. Baker, and, holding her lavender kidded little hand out to
his broad brown palm, said, with a grace and a sweetness that belonged
to neither of the others: "I am one of them." Whereupon John Warden was
not sure that he had not shaken hands with an angel.
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