THE HARDSHELL PREACHER.
"They's preachin' down to Bethel Meetin'-house to-day," said the Squire
at breakfast. Twenty years In the West could not cure Squire Hawkins of
saying "to" for "at." "I rather guess as how the old man Bosaw will give
pertickeler fits to our folks to-day." For Squire Hawkins, having been
expelled from the "Hardshell" church of which Mr. Bosaw was pastor, for
the grave offense of joining a temperance society, had become a member
of the "Reformers," the very respectable people who now call themselves
"Disciples," but whom the profane will persist in calling
"Campbellites." They had a church in the village of Clifty, three miles
away.
I know that explanations are always abominable to story readers, as they
are to story writers, but as so many of my readers have never had the
inestimable privilege of sitting under the gospel as it is ministered in
enlightened neighborhoods like Flat Creek, I find myself under the
necessity--need-cessity the Rev. Mr. Bosaw would call it--of rising to
explain. Some people think the "Hardshells" a myth, and some sensitive
Baptist people at the East resent all allusion to them. But the
"Hardshell Baptists," or, as they are otherwise called, the "Whisky
Baptists," and the "Forty-gallon Baptists," exist in all the old Western
and South-western States. They call themselves "Anti-means Baptists"
from their Antinomian tenets. Their confession of faith is a caricature
of Calvinism, and is expressed by their preachers about as follows: "Ef
you're elected, you'll be saved; ef you a'n't, you'll be damned. God'll
take keer of his elect. It's a sin to run Sunday-schools, or temp'rince
s'cieties, or to send missionaries. You let God's business alone. What
is to be will be, and you can't hender it." This writer has attended a
Sunday-school, the superintendent of which was solemnly arraigned and
expelled from the Hardshell Church for "meddling with God's business" by
holding a Sunday-school. Of course the Hardshells are prodigiously
illiterate, and often vicious. Some of their preachers are notorious
drunkards. They sing their sermons out sometimes for three hours at a
stretch[21].
Ralph found that he was to ride the "clay-bank mare," the only one of
the horses that would "carry double," and that consequently he would
have to take Miss Hawkins behind him. If it had been Hannah instead,
Ralph might not have objected to this "young Lochinvar" mode of riding
with a lady on "the croup," but Martha Hawkins was another affair. He
had only this consolation; his keeping the company of Miss Hawkins might
serve to disarm the resentment of Bud. At all events, he had no choice.
What designs the Squire had in this arrangement he could not tell; but
the clay-bank mare carried him to meeting on that December morning,
with Martha Hawkins behind. And as Miss Hawkins was not used to this
mode of locomotion, she was in a state of delightful fright every time
the horse sank to the knees in the soft, yellow Flat Creek clay.
"We don't go to church so at the East," she said. "The mud isn't so deep
at the East. When I was to Bosting--" but Ralph never heard what
happened when she was to Bosting, for just as she said Bosting the mare
put her foot into a deep hole molded by the foot of the Squire's horse,
and already full of muddy water.
As the mare's foot went twelve inches down into this track, the muddy
water spurted higher than Miss Hawkins's head, and mottled her dress
with golden spots of clay. She gave a little shriek, and declared that
she had never "seen it so at the East."
The journey seemed a little long to Ralph, who found that the subjects
upon which he and Miss Hawkins could converse were few; but Miss Martha
was determined to keep things going, and once, when the conversation had
died out entirely, she made a desperate effort to renew it by remarking,
as they met a man on horseback, "That horse switches his tail just as
they do at the East. When I was to Bosting I saw horses switch their
tails just that way."
What surprised Ralph was to see that Flat Creek went to meeting.
Everybody was there--the Meanses, the Joneses, the Bantas, and all the
rest. Everybody on Flat Creek seemed to be there, except the old
wooden-legged basket-maker. His family was represented by Shocky, who
had come, doubtless, to get a glimpse of Hannah, not to hear Mr. Bosaw
preach. In fact, few were thinking of the religious service. They went
to church as a common resort to hear the news, and to find out what was
the current sensation.
On this particular morning there seemed to be some unusual excitement.
Ralph perceived it as he rode up. An excited crowd, even though it be at
a church-door on Sunday morning, can not conceal its agitation. Ralph
deposited Miss Hawkins on the stile, and then got down himself, and paid
her the closest attention to the door. This attention was for Bud's
benefit. But Bud only stood with his hands in his pockets, scowling
worse than ever. Ralph did not go in at the door. It was not the Flat
Creek custom. The men gossiped outside, while the women chatted within.
Whatever may have been the cause of the excitement, Ralph could not get
at it. When he entered a little knot of people they became embarrassed,
the group dissolved, and its component parts joined other companies.
What had the current of conversation to do with him? He overheard Pete
Jones saying that the blamed old wooden leg was in it anyhow. He'd been
seen goin' home at two in the mornin'. And he could name somebody else
ef he choosed. But it was best to clean out one at a time. And just then
there was a murmur: "Meetin's took up." And the masculine element filled
the empty half of the "hewed-log" church.
When Ralph saw Hannah looking utterly dejected, his heart smote him, and
the great struggle set in again. Had it not been for the thought of the
other battle, and the comforting presence of the Helper, I fear Bud's
interests would have fared badly. But Ralph, with the spirit of a
martyr, resolved to wait until he knew what the result of Bud's suit
should be, and whether, indeed, the young Goliath had prior claims, as
he evidently thought he had. He turned hopefully to the sermon,
determined to pick up any crumbs of comfort that might fall from Mr.
Bosaw's meager table.
In reporting a single specimen passage of Mr. Bosaw's sermon, I shall
not take the liberty which Thucydides and other ancient historians did,
of making the sermon and putting it into the hero's mouth, but shall
give that which can be vouched for.
"You see, my respective hearers," he began--but alas! I can never
picture to you the rich red nose, the see sawing gestures, the nasal
resonance, the sniffle, the melancholy minor key, and all that. "My
respective hearers-ah, you see-ah as how-ah as my tex'-ah says that the
ox-ah knoweth his owner-ah, and-ah the ass-ah his master's crib-ah.
A-h-h! Now, my respective hearers-ah, they're a mighty sight of
resemblance-ah atwext men-ah and oxen-ah" [Ralph could not help
reflecting that there was a mighty sight of resemblance between some men
and asses. But the preacher did not see this analogy. It lay too close
to him], "bekase-ah, you see, men-ah is mighty like oxen-ah. Fer they's
a tremengious defference-ah atwixt defferent oxen-ah, jest as thar is
atwext defferent men-ah; fer the ox knoweth-ah his owner-ah, and the
ass-ah, his master's crib-ah. Now, my respective hearers-ah" [the
preacher's voice here grew mellow, and the succeeding sentences were in
the most pathetic and lugubrious tones], "you all know-ah that your
humble speaker-ah has got-ah jest the best yoke of steers-ah in this
township-ah." [Here Betsey Short shook the floor with a suppressed
titter.] "They a'n't no sech steers as them air two of mine-ah in this
whole kedentry-ah. Them crack oxen over at Clifty-ah ha'n't a patchin'
to mine-ah. Fer the ox knoweth his owner-ah and the ass-ah his master's
crib-ah.
"Now, my respective hearers-ah, they's a right smart sight of
defference-ah atwext them air two oxen-ah, jest like they is atwext
defferent men-ah. Fer-ah" [here the speaker grew earnest, and sawed the
air, from this to the close, in a most frightful way], "fer-ah, you
see-ah, when I go out-ah in the mornin'-ah to yoke-ah up-ah them air
steers-ah, and I says-ah, 'Wo, Berry-ah! _Wo, Berry-ah!_ WO, BERRY-AH',
why Berry-ah jest stands stock still-ah and don't hardly breathe-ah
while I put on the yoke-ah, and put in the bow-ah, and put in the
key-ah, fer, my brethering-ah and sistering-ah, the ox knoweth his
owner-ah, and the ass-ah his master's crib-ah. Hal-le-lu-ger-ah!
"But-ah, my hearers-ah, but-ah when I stand at t'other eend of the
yoke-ah, and say, 'Come, Buck-ah! _Come, Buck-ah!_ COME, BUCK-AH! COME,
BUCK-AH!' why what do you think-ah? Buck-ah, that ornery ole Buck-ah,
'stid of comin' right along-ah and puttin' his neck under-ah, acts jest
like some men-ah what is fools-ah. Buck-ah jest kinder sorter stands
off-ah, and kinder sorter puts his head down-ah this 'ere way-ah, and
kinder looks mad-ah, and says, Boo-_oo_-OO-OO-ah!"
Alas! Hartsook found no spiritual edification there, and he was in no
mood to be amused. And so, while the sermon drew on through two dreary
hours, he forgot the preacher in noticing a bright green lizard which,
having taken up its winter quarters behind the tin candlestick that hung
just back of the preacher's head, had been deceived by the genial warmth
coming from the great box-stove, and now ran out two or three feet from
his shelter, looking down upon the red-nosed preacher in a most
confidential and amusing manner. Sometimes he would retreat behind the
candlestick, which was not twelve inches from the preacher's head, and
then rush out again. At each reappearance Betsey Short would stuff her
handkerchief into her mouth and shake in a most distressing way. Shocky
wondered what the lizard was winking at the preacher about. And Miss
Martha thought that it reminded her of a lizard that she see at the
East, the time she was to Bosting, in a jar of alcohol in the Natural
History Rooms. The Squire was not disappointed in his anticipation that
Mr. Bosaw would attack his denomination with some fury. In fact, the old
preacher outdid himself in his violent indignation at "these people that
follow Campbell-ah, that thinks-ah that obejience-ah will save 'em-ah
and that belongs-ah to temp'rince societies-ah and Sunday-schools-ah,
and them air things-ah, that's not ortherized in the Bible-ah, but comes
of the devil-ah, and takes folks as belongs to 'em to hell-ah."
As they came out the door Ralph rallied enough to remark: "He did attack
your people, Squire."
"Oh, yes," said the Squire. "Didn't you see the Sarpent inspirin' him?"
But the long, long hours were ended and Ralph got on the clay-bank mare
and rode up alongside the stile whence Miss Martha mounted. And as he
went away with a heavy heart, he overheard Pete Jones call out to
somebody:
"We'll tend to his case & Christmas." Christmas was two days off.
And Miss Martha remarked with much trepidation that poor Pearson would
have to leave. She'd always been afraid that would be the end of it. It
reminded her of something she heard at the East, the time she was down
to Bosting.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 21: Even the Anti-means Baptists have suffered from the dire
spirit of the age. They are to-day a very respectable body of people
calling themselves "Primitive Baptists." Perhaps the description in the
text never applied to the whole denomination, but only to the Hardshells
of certain localities. Some of these intensely conservative churches, I
have reason to believe, were always composed of reputable people. But
what is said above is not in the least exaggerated as a description of
many of the churches in Indiana and Illinois. Their opposition to the
temperance reformation was both theoretical and practical. A rather able
minister of the denomination whom I knew as a boy used to lie in
besotted drunkenness by the roadside. I am sorry to confess that he once
represented the county in the State legislature. The piece of a sermon
given in this chapter was heard near Cairo, Illinois, in the days before
the war. Most of the preachers were illiterate farmers. I have heard one
of them hold forth two hours at a stretch. But even in that day there
were men among the Hardshells whose ability and character commanded
respect. This was true, especially in Kentucky, where able men like the
two Dudleys held to the Antinomian wing of their denomination. But the
Hardshells are perceptibly less hard than they were. You may march at
the rear of the column among Hunkers and Hardshells if you will, but you
are obliged to march. Those who will not go voluntarily, the
time-spirit, walking behind, prods onward with a goad.]