THE GROVE.
In the meanwhile, three or four times during the week, Mr. Norton
continued to hold meetings for the people in Micah's Grove.
There had been but little rain in the Miramichi region during the
summer and autumn. In fact, none worthy of note had fallen for two
months, except what came during the late equinoctial storm. The grass
was parched with heat, the roads were ground to a fine dust, which a
breath of wind drove, like clouds of smoke, into the burning air; the
forest leaves, which had been so recently stained with a marvellous
beauty of brown, crimson and gold, became dim and shrivelled; a slight
touch snapped, with a sharp, crackling sound, the dried branches of
the trees; even the golden rod and the purple aster, those hardy
children of autumn, began to hang their heads with thirst. All day
long, the grasshopper and locust sent through the hot, panting air,
their shrill notes, stinging the ear with discord. The heaven above
looked like a dome of brass, and a thin, filmy smoke gathered around
the horizon.
Even the rude settlers, with nerves toughened by hardship,
unsusceptible of atmospheric changes, were oppressed by the long,
desolating drought.
It was only when the shadows of afternoon began to lengthen and the
sun's rays to strike obliquely through the stately trees of the Grove,
that they were able to gather there and listen to the voice of the
missionary. He had so far succeeded in his work, as to be able to draw
the people together, from a considerable distance around, and their
number increased daily.
On the opposite bank of the river, half way up a slight eminence,
stood a small stone chapel. Tasteful and elegant in its proportions,
it presented a picturesque and attractive appearance. There, once on
each Sunday, the service of the Church of England was read, together
with a brief discourse by a clergyman of that order.
Behind the chapel, and near the top of the hill, was a large stone
cottage surrounded by pretty grounds and with ample stable
conveniences. It was the Rectory.
The Chapel and Rectory had been built and the clergyman was sustained,
at a somewhat large cost, by the Establishment, for the purpose of
enlightening and Christianizing the population of the parish of ----.
Unfortunately, the incumbent was not the self-sacrificing person
needed to elevate such a community. Though ministering at the altar of
God, he had no true religious feeling, no disinterested love for men.
He was simply a man of the world, a _bon vivant_, a horse jockey and
sportsman, who consoled himself in the summer and autumn for his exile
in that barbarous region, by filling his house with provincial
friends, who helped him while away the time in fishing, hunting, and
racing. The winter months, he usually spent at Fredericton, and
during that interval no service was held in the chapel. Of late, the
few, who were in the habit of attending the formal worship there, had
forsaken it for the more animating services held in the Grove.
Not only the habitual church-goers, but the people of the parish at
large, began to feel the magnetizing influence, and were drawn towards
the same spot. For a week or more past, late in the afternoons on
which the meetings were held, little skiffs might have been seen
putting off from the opposite shore, freighted with men, women, and
children, crossing over to hear the wonderful preachings of the
missionary.
What attracted them thither? Not surely the love of the truth.
Most of them disliked it in their hearts, and had not even began to
think of practising it in their lives. They were interested in the
man. They were, in some sort, compelled by the magical power he held
over them, to listen to entreaties and counsels, similar to those to
which they had often hitherto turned a deaf ear.
Mr. Norton spent much of the time with them, going from house to
house, partaking of their rude fare, sympathizing in their joys and
sorrows, occasionally lending them a helping hand in their toils, and
aiding them sometimes by his ingenuity and skill as an artisan. They
found in him a hearty, genial, and unselfish friend. Hence when he
appeared among them at the Grove, their personal interest in him
secured a certain degree of order and decorum, and caused them to
listen to him respectfully.
Even beyond this, he held a power over them, by means of his natural
and persuasive eloquence, enlivened by varied and graphic
illustrations, drawn from objects within their ken, and by the
wonderful intonations of his powerful and harmonious voice. He began
his work by presenting to them the love of Christ and the winning
promises of the gospel.
This was his favorite mode of reaching the heart.
On most of these occasions, Adèle went to the Grove. It varied her
monotonous life. The strange, motley crowd gathered under the
magnificent trees, sitting on the ground, or standing in groups
beneath the tall arches made by the overlapping boughs; the level rays
of the declining sun, bringing out, in broad relief, their grotesque
varieties of costume; the gradual creeping on of the sobering
twilight; the alternating expressions of emotions visible on the
countenances of the listeners, made the scene striking to her
observing eye.
Another burning, dusty day had culminated. It was nearly five o'clock
in the afternoon. Mr. Norton was lying upon a lounge in Mr. Brown's
apartment. Both gentlemen appeared to be in a meditative mood. The
silence was only interrupted by the unusual sound of an occasional
sigh from the missionary.
"Why! friend Norton;" at length exclaimed Mr. Brown, "have you really
lost your cheerfulness, at last?"
"Yes", replied Mr. Norton, slowly. "I must confess that I am wellnigh
discouraged respecting the reformation of this people. Here, I have
been preaching to them these weeks the gospel of love, presenting
Christ to them as their friend and Saviour, holding up the truth in
its most lovely and winning forms. It has apparently made no
impression upon their hearts. It is true, they come in crowds to hear
me, but what I say to them makes no permanent mark. They forget it,
the moment the echo of my voice dies upon their ears. The fact is,
friend Brown, I am disappointed. I did hope the Lord would have given
this people unto me. But", continued he, after a moment's pause, "what
right have I to be desponding? God reigns".
"According to all accounts", replied Mr. Brown, "they must be a hard
set to deal with, both mentally and morally. I should judge, from what
Miss Adèle tells me of your instructions, that you have not put them
upon the same rigid regimen of law and truth, that you may remember
you prescribed for my spiritual cure". Mr. Brown smiled. "Perhaps", he
continued, "these men are not capable of appreciating the mild aspect
of mercy. They do not possess the susceptibility to which you have
been appealing. They need to have the terrors of the law preached to
them".
"Ah! that is it, friend Brown, you have it. I am convinced it is so. I
have fell it for several days past. But I do dislike, extremely, to
endeavor to chain them to the truth by fear. Love is so much more
noble a passion to enlist for Christ. Yet they must be drawn by some
motive from their sins. Love often follows in the wake and casts out
fear".
"I remember", said Mr. Brown, "to have heard Mr. N----, the famous
Maine lumber-merchant, who you know is an infidel, say that the only
way the lumbermen can be kept from stealing each other's logs, is by
preaching to them eternal punishment".
"No doubt it is true", replied the good man, "and if these souls
cannot be sweetly constrained into the beautiful fields of peace, they
must be compelled into them by the terrors of that death that hangs
over the transgressor. Besides, I feel a strong presentiment that some
great judgment is about to descend upon this people. All day, the
thought has weighed upon me like an incubus. I cannot shake it off.
Something terrible is in store for them. What it may be, I know not.
But I am impressed with the duty of preaching a judgment to come to
them, this very afternoon. I will do it".
A slight rattling of dishes at the door announced the arrival of Bess,
with a tray of refreshment for Mr. Brown, and, at the same moment, the
tinkling of a bell below, summoned Mr. Norton to the table.
Half an hour later, the missionary, with a slow pace and the air of
one oppressed with a great burden, walked to the Grove. He seated
himself on a rustic bench and with his head resting on the trunk of an
immense elm, which overshadowed him, sat absorbed in earnest thought,
while the people gathered in a crowd around him.
At length, the murmuring voices were hushed into quiet. He rose, took
up his pocket Testament, read a portion of the tenth chapter of
Hebrews, offered a prayer, and then sang in his trumpet tones,
Charles Wesley's magnificently solemn hymn, commencing,--
"Lo! on a narrow neck of land
'Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand
Secure! insensible!"
He then repeated a clause in the chapter he had just read to them. "If
we sin wilfully after that we have received a knowledge of the truth,
there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful
looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the
adversaries".
He began his discourse by reminding the people of the truths he had
presented to them during the weeks past. He had told them faithfully
of their sinfulness before a holy God, and pointed out the way of
safety and purification through a crucified Saviour. And he had
earnestly sought to induce them, by the love this Saviour bore them,
to forsake their transgressions and exercise trust in Him. He now told
them, in accents broken with grief, that he had every reason to fear
they had not followed his counsel, and observing their hardness of
heart, he felt constrained to bring them another and different
message,--a message less tender, but coming from the same divine
source. He then unfolded to them the wrath of the Most High, kindled
against those who scorn the voice of mercy from a dying Saviour.
They listened intently. His voice, his manner, his words electrified
them. His countenance was illumined with an awful light, such as they
had not before witnessed there. His eye shot out prophetic meanings.
At the close, he said, in a low tone, like the murmur of distant
thunder, "what I have told you, is true,--true, as that we stand on
this solid ground,--true, as that sky that bends above us. This book
says it. It is, therefore, eternal truth. I have it impressed upon my
mind, that a judgment, a swift, tremendous judgment, is about to
descend upon this people on account of their sins. I cannot shake off
this impression, and, under its power, I warn you to prepare your
souls to meet some dreadful calamity.
"I know not how it will come,--in what shape, with what power. But I
feel that death is near. It seems to me that I see many before me, who
will soon be beyond the bounds of time. I feel constrained to say this
to you. I beg you prepare to meet your God".
When he ceased, a visible shudder ran through the multitude. They rose
slowly and wended their way homeward, many with blanched faces, and
even the hardiest with a vague sense of some startling event
impending.