A new presiding elder, Mr. N., was expected in the district; and as
all the ministers stopped with Brother W. and his wife, every
preparation was made to give him a cordial reception. The honest
couple thought that religion in that part consisted in making parade,
and therefore the parlor was put in order, a nice fire was made, and
the kitchen replenished with cake, chickens, and every delicacy,
preparatory to cooking. While Mr. W. was out at the wood-pile, a
plain-looking, coarsely dressed, but quiet-like pedestrian, came along
and asked the distance to the next town. He was told it was three
miles. Being very cold, he asked permission to enter and warm himself.
Assent was given very grudgingly, and both went into the kitchen. The
wife looked daggers at this untimely intrusion, for the stranger had
on cowhide boots, an old hat, and a threadbare, but neatly patched
coat. At length she gave him a chair beside the Dutch oven which was
baking nice cakes for the presiding elder, who was momentarily
expected, as he was to preach the next day at the church a mile or two
beyond.
The stranger, after warming himself, prepared to leave, but the
weather became inclement, and as his appetite was aroused by the
viands about the fire, he asked for some little refreshment ere he set
out for a cold walk to the town beyond. Mrs. W. was displeased, but on
consultation with her husband, cold bacon and bread were set out on an
old table, and he was somewhat gruffly told to eat. It was growing
dark, and hints were thrown out that the stranger had better depart,
as it was three long miles to town.
The homely meal was at last concluded--the man thanked him kindly for
the hospitality he had received, and opened the door to go. But it was
quite dark and the clouds denoting a storm filled the heavens.
"You say it is full three miles to D----?"
"I do," said Mr. W. coldly. "I said so when you first stopped, and you
ought to have pushed on, like a prudent man. You could have reached
there before it was quite dark."
"But I was cold and hungry, and might have fainted by the way."
His manner of saying this touched the farmer's feelings a little.
"You have warmed and fed me, for which I am thankful. Will you now
bestow another act of kindness upon one in a strange place, who if he
goes out into the darkness, may lose himself and perish in the cold?"
The particular form in which this request was made, and the tone in
which it was uttered, put it out of the farmer's heart to say no.
"Go in there and sit down," he answered, pointing to the kitchen, "and
I will see my wife and hear what she says."
And Mr. W. went into the parlor where the supper table stood, covered
with snow-white cloth, and displaying his wife's set of blue-sprigged
china, that was brought out only on special occasions.
The tall mold candles were burning thereon, and on the hearth blazed a
cheerful fire.
"Hasn't that old fellow gone yet?" asked Mrs. W. She heard his voice
as he returned from the door.
"No, and what do you suppose, he wants us to let him stay all night."
"Indeed, we will do no such thing. We cannot have the likes of him in
the house now. Where could he sleep?"
"Not in the best room, even if Mr. N. did not come."
"No, indeed!"
"But really I don't see, Jane, how we can turn him out of doors. He
doesn't look like a strong man, and it's full three miles to D----."
"It's too much; he ought to have gone on while he had daylight, and
not lingered here, as he did, till it got dark."
"We can't turn him out of doors, Jane, and it's no use to think of it.
He'll have to stay somehow."
"But what can we do with him?"
"He seems like a decent man at least; and doesn't look as if he had
anything bad about him. We might make a bed on the floor."
When Mr. W. returned to the kitchen, where the stranger had seated
himself before the fire, he informed him that he had decided to let
him stay all night. The man expressed in few words his grateful sense
of their kindness, and then became silent and thoughtful. Soon after
the farmer's wife, giving up all hope of Mr. N.'s arrival, had supper
taken up, which consisted of coffee, warm short-cake, and broiled
chicken. After all was on the table, a short conference was held as to
whether it would do not to invite the stranger to take supper. It was
true they had given him as much bread and bacon as he could eat, but
then, as long as he was going to stay all night, it looked too
inhospitable to sit down to the table and not ask him to join them.
So, making a virtue of necessity, he was kindly asked to come to
supper--an invitation which he did not decline. Grace was said over
the meal by Mr. W., and the coffee poured, and the bread helped, and
the meat carved.
There was a fine little boy, six years old, at the table, who had been
brightened up and dressed in his best, in order to grace the
minister's reception. Charles was full of talk, and the parents felt a
mutual pride in showing him off, even before their humble guest, who
noticed him particularly, though he had not much to say. "Come,
Charley," said Mr. W., after the meal was over, and he sat leaning in
his chair, "can't you repeat the pretty hymn mamma taught you last
Sabbath?"
Charley started off without any further invitation, and repeated very
accurately two or three verses of a camp-meeting hymn, that was then
popular.
"Now let us hear you say the commandments, Charley," spoke up the
mother, well pleased with her son's performance.
And Charley repeated them with a little prompting.
"How many commandments are there?" asked the father.
The child hesitated, and then looking at the stranger, near whom he
sat, said innocently:--
"How many are there?"
The man thought for some moments, and said, as if in doubt,
"Eleven, are there not?"
"Eleven!" ejaculated Mrs. W. in unfeigned surprise.
"Eleven?" said her husband with more rebuke than astonishment in his
voice. "Is it possible, sir, that you do not know how many
commandments there are? How many are there, Charley? Come, tell
me--you know, of course."
"Ten," replied the child.
"Right, my son," returned Mr. W., looking with a smile of approval on
the child. "Right, there isn't a child of his age in ten miles who
can't tell you there are ten commandments."
"Did you ever read the Bible, sir?" addressing the stranger.
"When I was a boy I used to read it sometimes. But I am sure I thought
that there were eleven commandments. Are you not mistaken about there
being ten?"
Sister W. lifted her hands in unfeigned astonishment, and
exclaimed:--
"Could any one believe it? such ignorance of the Bible!"
Mr. W. did not reply, but rose, and going to the corner of the room
where the good book lay upon the stand, he put it on the table before
him, and opened to that portion in which the commandments are
recorded.
"There," he said, placing his finger upon the proof of the stranger's
error, "There, look for yourself."
The man came around from his side of the table and looked over the
stranger's shoulder.
"There, do'ye see?"
"Yes, it does say so," replied the man, "and yet it seems to me there
are eleven. I'm sure I always thought so."
"Doesn't it say ten here?" inquired Mr. W. with marked impatience in
his voice.
"It does, certainly."
"Well, what more do you want? Can't you believe the Bible?"
"Oh, yes, I believe the Bible; and yet it strikes me somehow that
there must be eleven commandments. Hasn't one been added somewhere
else?"
Now this was too much for Brother and Sister W. to bear. Such
ignorance of sacred matters they felt to be unpardonable. A long
lecture followed, in which the man was scolded, admonished, and
threatened with divine indignation. At its close he modestly asked if
he might have the Bible to read for an hour or two before retiring for
the night. This request was granted with more pleasure than any of the
preceding ones.
[Illustration: Christ Blessing Little Children]
Shortly after supper the man was conducted to the little spare room,
accompanied by the Bible. Before leaving him alone, Mr. W. felt it to
be his duty to exhort him to spiritual things, and he did so most
earnestly for ten or fifteen minutes. But he could not see that his
words made much impression, and he finally left his guest, lamenting
his obduracy and ignorance.
In the morning he came down, and meeting Mr. W., asked if he would be
so kind as to lend him a razor, that he might remove his beard, which
did not give his face a very attractive appearance. His request was
complied with.
"We will have prayers in about ten minutes," said Mr. W., as he handed
him the razor and shaving box.
The man appeared and behaved with due propriety at family worship.
After breakfast he thanked the farmer and his wife for their
hospitality, and parting went on his journey.
Ten o'clock came, but Mr. N. had not arrived. So Mr. and Mrs. W.
started for the meeting-house, not doubting they would find him there.
But they were disappointed. A goodly number of people were inside the
meeting-house, and a goodly number outside, but the minister had not
arrived.
"Where is Mr. N----?" inquired a dozen voices, as a crowd gathered
around the farmer.
"He hasn't come yet. Something has detained him. But I still look for
him--indeed, I fully expected to find him here."
The day was cold, and Mr. W., after becoming thoroughly chilled,
concluded to keep a good lookout for the minister from the window near
which he usually sat. Others, from the same cause, followed his
example, and the little meeting-house was soon filled, and one after
another came dropping in. The farmer, who turned towards the door each
time it was opened, was a little surprised to see his guest of the
previous evening enter, and come slowly down the aisle, looking on
either side, as if searching for a vacant seat, very few of which were
now left. Still advancing, he finally got within the little enclosed
altar, and ascended to the pulpit, took off his old grey overcoat and
sat down.
By this time Mr. W. was by his side, and had his hand upon his arm.
"You mustn't sit here. Come down and I will show you a seat," he said,
in an excited tone.
"Thank you," replied the man in a composed voice. "It is very
comfortable here." And the man remained immovable.
Mr. W., feeling embarrassed, went down, intending to get a brother
"official" to assist him in making a forcible ejection of the man from
the place he was desecrating. Immediately upon his doing so, however,
the man rose, and standing up at the desk, opened the hymn-book. His
voice thrilled to the finger ends of Brother W. as in a distinct and
impressive manner he gave out the hymn beginning:
"Help us to help each other, Lord,
Each other's cross to bear;
Let each his friendly aid afford,
And feel a brother's care."
The congregation rose, after the stranger had read the entire hymn,
and had repeated the first two lines for them to sing. Brother W.
usually started the tunes. He tried this time, but went off on a long
meter tune. Discovering his mistake at the second word, he balked and
tried it again, but now he stumbled on short meter. A musical brother
came to his aid and led off with a tune that suited the measure in
which the hymn was written. After singing, the congregation knelt, and
the minister--for no one doubted his real character--addressed the
throne of grace with much fervor and eloquence. The reading of a
chapter in the Bible succeeded. Then there was a deep pause throughout
the room in anticipation of the text, which the preacher prepared to
announce.
The dropping of a pin might have been heard. Then the fine, emphatic
tones of the preacher filled the room:--
"_A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another._"
Brother W. had bent forward to listen, but now he sunk back in his
seat. This was the eleventh commandment.
The sermon was deep, searching, yet affectionate and impressive. The
preacher uttered nothing that could in the least wound the brother and
sister of whose hospitality he had partaken, but he said much that
smote upon their hearts, and made them painfully conscious that they
had not shown as much kindness to the stranger as he had been entitled
to receive on the broad principles of humanity. But they suffered more
from mortification of feeling. To think that they had treated the
presiding elder of the district after such a fashion was deeply
humiliating; and the idea of the whole affair getting abroad
interfered sadly with their devotional feelings throughout the whole
period of service.
At last the sermon was over, the ordinance administered and the
benediction pronounced. Brother W. did not know what was best for him
to do. He never was more at a loss in his life. Then Mr. N. descended
from the pulpit; but he did not step forward to meet him. How could he
do that? Others gathered around him, but still he lingered and held
back.
"Where is Brother W.?" he at length heard asked. It was the voice of
the minister.
"Here he is," said one or two, opening the way to where the farmer
stood.