Dr and Mrs Prosser came to pay their spring visit to the Maltbys about
ten days after William Foster's happy escape out of the hands of his
enemies. The doctor was exceedingly glad of this opportunity of having
a little quiet conversation with his old college friend the vicar on
subjects which, though near his heart, were too commonly pushed out of
his thoughts by the pressure of daily and hourly engagements. For his
was the experience so common in these days of multiplied occupations and
ceaseless coming and going: he could find no time for pause, no time for
serious meditation on subjects other than those which demanded daily the
full concentration of his thoughts. He was not unconscious that he was
moving on all the while through higher and nobler things than those
which he was pursuing, just as we are conscious of the beauties of some
lovely scenery, glimpses of which flash upon us on either side, as we
dash on by rail at express speed to our journey's end; but, at the same
time, he was painfully aware that he was really living not merely amidst
but _for_ the things which are seen and temporal, without any settled
and steady aim at the things which are not seen and are eternal. So he
hoped that his visit to Ernest Maltby might be helpful to him by
bringing him into an intellectual and spiritual atmosphere entirely
different in tone from that with which he was surrounded in his London
home and society. He had seen the true beauty and felt the persuasive
force of holiness, in his previous intercourse with the vicar of
Crossbourne; and he believed that it might do him good to see and feel
them again, as exhibited in the character and conversation of his
friend.
He was also very anxious that his wife should learn some practical
wisdom from the Maltbys, which might guide her into the way of making
her home happier both to herself and to him. It is true that things had
considerably improved since the Christmas-eve when the doctor found her
absent from home. His words of loving remonstrance had sunk deeply into
her heart, and she had profited by them. She had managed to curtail her
engagements, and to be more at home, especially when she knew that her
husband was counting upon her society. Still, there were many self-
imposed duties to which she devoted time and strength which could ill be
spared, and in the performance of which she was wearing herself down; so
the forced interruption of these by her visit to Crossbourne was looked
upon by her husband with secret but deep satisfaction.
The only drawback to their visit was that neither Mrs Maltby nor her
daughter would be at home; but Mr Maltby had begged them not to
postpone their visit on this account, as his sister, Miss Maltby, would
be staying with him, and would take the place of hostess to his guests.
And, indeed, sorry as Dr Prosser was that he should miss seeing his old
lady friends, he was satisfied that their place would be well supplied
by the vicar's sister.
Miss Maltby was considerably older than her brother, and had been almost
in the position of a parent to him when he had, in his early life, lost
his own mother. She was one of those invaluable single women, not
uncommon in the middle rank of society in England, whose sterling
excellences are more widely felt than openly appreciated. She was not
one of those active ladies who carry little bells on the skirts of their
good deeds, so as to make a loud tinkling in the ears of the world.
Hers was a quiet and unobtrusive work. Her views of usefulness and duty
were, in the eyes of some of her acquaintance, old-fashioned and behind
the age. Standing on one side, as it were, out of the whirl of _good_
excitement, she could mark the mistakes and shortcomings in the bringing
up of the professedly Christian families which came under her
observation, and of the grownup workers of her own sex. But the wisdom
she gathered from observation was stored up in a mind ever under the
control of a pure and loving heart. Sneer or sarcasm never passed her
lips. When called on to reprove the wrong or suggest the right, she
always did it with "meekness of wisdom," her object being, not to
glorify self by making others painfully conscious of their
inconsistencies or defects, but to guide the erring gently into the
paths of righteousness, sober-mindedness, and persuasive godliness.
Practical good sense, the fruit of a plain scriptural creed thought out,
prayed out, and lived out, in the midst of a thousand unrealities, and
half-realities, and distortions of the truth in belief and practice, was
the habitual utterance of her lips and guide of her daily life. She and
Thomas Bradly were special friends, inasmuch as they were thoroughly
kindred spirits, anything like sham or humbug being the abhorrence of
both, while the Word of God was to each the one only infallible court of
appeal in every question of faith and practice.
"You must see a good deal of the coarser-grained human material here in
Crossbourne," remarked Dr Prosser to the vicar, as they strolled
together in the garden in the evening after their meeting. "When I last
had the pleasure of visiting you, before you came to this living, your
parishioners were of a more civilised stamp."
"More `civil' would perhaps be a more correct term," said Mr Maltby,
"at least so far as touchings of the hat and smooth speeches were
concerned. But, in truth, with all the roughness of these people, there
is that sterling courtesy and consideration in many of them which I
rarely meet with in more cultivated districts."
"Well," said the other, "I suppose that is owing to the increased
intelligence produced by habits of reading, attending lectures, and
studying mechanism."
"I think not," replied the vicar. "I have not, in my own experience,
found true courtesy and consideration to be the fruit of increased
intelligence. On the contrary, the keener the intellectual edge, as a
rule, the keener the pursuit of selfish ends, and the more conspicuous
the absence of a regard to the interests and a respect for the feelings
of others."
"Then you don't credit education with this improvement in courtesy and
consideration."
"Certainly not. I believe that with increased intelligence there is
also an increased sensitiveness in all our faculties, and so an
increased appreciation of what is beautiful and becoming; but it is the
heart that must be touched if there is to be that real concern for the
welfare and comfort of others which I have observed in many of my
present parishioners. They are rough extremely, but there is an honest
and warm heart beneath the surface; and when the love of Christ gets
down into these hearts, and the grace of Christ dwells there, I do not
know a nobler material to work with."
Dr Prosser was silent for a minute, then he said, "I suppose we are all
agreed that true religion has a very humanising and refining influence.
I only feel a wish, at times, that Religion herself were less hampered
by creeds and dogmas, so that her full power might be felt, and to a far
wider extent. I think that then religious and intellectual advancement
would keep steady pace side by side."
"Do you, my dear friend?" said Mr Maltby sadly. "I must confess I am
quite of a different opinion. People seem to me to have gone wild on
this subject, and to have lost their senses in their over-anxiety to
cultivate them. Intellect-worship is to my mind the master snare of our
day. Cram the mind and starve the heart--this is the great popular
idolatry. And so religion must be a misty, dreamy sort of thing; not
well-defined truth, plainly and sharply taught in God's Word, requiring
faith in revealed doctrines which are to influence the life by taking up
a stronghold in the heart, but rather a foggy mixture of light and
darkness, of superstition and sentiment, which will leave men to follow
pretty nearly their own devices, and allow them to pass through this
world with quieted consciences, so long as they are sincere, let their
creed be anything or nothing: and as to the future, why, this world is
the great land of realities, and a coming judgment, a coming heaven or
hell, these are but plausible dreams, or, at the most, interesting
speculations. Excuse me, my dear friend, for speaking warmly. I cannot
but feel and speak strongly on this subject when I mark the growing
tendency in our day to fall down and worship the cultivation of the
intellect, to the neglect and disparagement of definite gospel truth,
and of that education of the heart without which, I am more firmly
persuaded every day, there cannot be either individual peace, home
virtue and happiness, or public honour and morality."
"Perhaps you are right," said the doctor thoughtfully. "There may be a
danger in the direction you point out. Certainly we men of science
have, many of us, while valuing and respecting the Christian religion,
been getting increasingly impatient of anything like religious dogmatism
and exclusiveness."
At this moment a servant came to say that Thomas Bradly wished to have a
word with the vicar when he was disengaged. "Oh, ask him to come to me
here in the garden," said the vicar.--"You shall see one of my rough
diamonds now," he added smilingly to his friend; "indeed, I may call him
my `Koh-i-noor,' only he hasn't been polished.--Thomas," he continued to
Bradly as he entered, "here's an old friend of mine, Dr Prosser, a
gentleman eminent in the scientific world, who has come down from London
to see me, and to get a little experience of Crossbourne ways and
manners. I tell him that he'll find us rather a rough material."
"I'm sure," replied Thomas, "I'm heartily glad to see any friend of
yours among us. He must take us as he finds us. Like other folks, we
aren't always right side out; but we generally mean what we say, and
when we do say anything we commonly make it stand for summat."
"Well now, Thomas," continued Mr Maltby, "you're a plain, practical
man, and I think you could give us an opinion worth having on a subject
we've been talking about."
"I'm sure, sir, I don't know how that may be," was the reply; "but we
working-people sometimes see things in a different light from what those
above us does,--at least so far as our experience goes."
"That's just it, Thomas. It will interest Dr Prosser, I know, to hear
how a theory about religion and truth, which is becoming very
fashionable in our day, would suit yourself and the quick-witted and
warm-hearted people you have daily to deal with."
"Let me hear it, sir, and I'll answer according to the best of my
judgment."
The vicar then repeated to Bradly the substance of the conversation
between himself and the doctor on religious dogmatism and breadth of
views.
"Ah, well," cried Thomas laughing, "you're almost too deep for me. But
it comes into my mind what happened to me a good many years ago, when I
were quite a young man. There were a nobleman in our parts,--I wasn't
living at Crossbourne then,--and his son came of age, and such a feast
there was as I never saw afore or since, and I hope I never may again.
Well, my father's family had been in that country for many generations,
and so they turned us into gentlefolks, me and my father, that day, and
we sat down to dinner with the quality; and a grand dinner it was for
certain. When it was all over, as I thought, and the parson had
returned thanks, just as I were for getting up and going, they brings
round some plates with great glass bowls in 'em, nearly full of water,
something like what an old aunt of mine used to keep gold-fish in; and
there was a knife and fork on each plate. Then the servants brings all
sorts of fruits,--apples and pears, and peaches and grapes,--and sets
'em on the table. I was asked what I'd have, and I chose a great rosy-
cheeked apple. And then I were going to bite a great piece out of it,
but a gent as sat next me whispers, `Cut it, man; it's more civil to cut
it.' So I takes up the knife, which had got a mother-o'-pearl handle to
it, and tries to cut the apple, but I could only make a mark on it such
as you see on a hot-cross-bun. Then I looked at the blade of the knife,
and it were just like silver, but were as blunt as a broomstick.
However, I tried again, but it wouldn't cut; so I axes a tall chap in
livery as stood behind my chair if they'd such a thing as a butcher's
steel in the house, for I wanted to put an edge to my knife. Eh, you
should have seen that fellow grin! `No, sir,' he says, `we ain't got
nothing of the sort.' `Well, then,' says I, `take this knife away,--
there's a good man!--for it's too fine for me, and bring me a good steel
knife with an edge as'll cut.'--Now, if you'll excuse my long story,
gentlemen, it seems to me that the sort of religion you say is getting
popular among the swell people and men of science in our country is
uncommon like that fruit-knife as couldn't suit me. It's a deal too
fine for common purposes, and common people, and common homes, and
common hearts; it hasn't got no edge--it won't cut. We want a religion
with a good usable edge to it, as'll cut the cords of our sins and the
knots of our troubles. Now, that's just the religion of the Bible. It
tells us what we're to do for God and for our fellow-creatures; it tells
us how we're to do it, by showing us how the Lord Jesus Christ shed his
blood to free us from the guilt and power of sin, and bought us grace by
which we might walk in his steps; and it shows why we're to do it,--just
from love to him, because he first loved us in giving Jesus to die for
us. I don't see what use religion or the Bible would be to us if these
things weren't laid down for us clear and sharp; if p'raps they was
true, and p'raps not; or true for me, but not true for my neighbour; or
half true, and half false; or true for to-day, and not true for to-
morrow."
"Bravo!" said Dr Prosser, delighted, and clapping his hands. "I
believe your rough workman's hammer has hit the right nail on the head,
and hit it hard too."
"I'm very glad, sir, if you think so," said Bradly, "I've had chaps
crying up to me now and then some such sort of views as the vicar and
yourself have been talking about; but I've felt sure of this, however
well they may look on paper, they'll never act. What's the use of a
guide, if he's blind and don't know where he's taking you to? I
remember I were once spending a night at a gent's house, and the next
morning I had to walk to a town twenty miles off. It were quite a
country-place where the gentleman lived, and when he were saying good-
bye to me I axed him for directions, for I'd never been in that part of
the country before. So he said, `You must go for about a mile and a
half along this road, and then you'll come to a wood on your left hand.
You must go through that wood, and then any one'll be able to direct you
for the rest of the way.'--`And pray,' says I, `which path must I take
through the wood? For I daresay there's more than one.'--`Oh, you can't
mistake,' says he; `you've only to follow your nose.' So I set off,
supposing it was all right. I found the wood easily enough, but when I
got to it I was quite at a nonplush. There was three roads into the
wood, each one as distinct as the other. It was all very well to say,
`Follow your nose;' but if I looked down one road that would be
following my nose, and so it would be when I looked down either of the
other roads. I had to chance it; and a pretty mess I made of it, for I
completely lost my way, and didn't get to my journey's end till after
dark.--Now, some of these scientific gents as has got too wise to
believe in the old-fashioned Bible and its plain meaning, what sort of
directions would they give us through this world, so that we might do
our duty in it, and get happily through it, and reach the better land?
It would be much with poor sinners as it was with me. If we're to have
a religion without doctrines and without a revelation, or if we're only
to pick out just as much from the Bible as suits our fancies and our
prejudices, we shall be just following our nose. And where will that
lead us? Why, into all sorts of difficulties here, and the end will be
nothing but darkness."
"Just so, Thomas," said the vicar; "I feel sure that you speak the
truth. We want the plain, distinct teaching of the doctrines of God's
Word, if we are to be holy here and happy hereafter. We want to know
unmistakably what to believe, and how to act out our belief. What a
blessing it is that, when we take up our Bibles in a humble and
teachable spirit, we can say, `Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a
light unto my path.' But we are come upon strange times indeed, when
professed teachers of the Christian religion can propound to us `a
gospel without an atonement, a Bible without inspiration, and an
ignorant Christ.'--Well, Thomas, shall we come into my study? Dr
Prosser will excuse me for a few minutes."
An evening or two after this conversation, as the whole vicarage party
lingered round the table after supper, Dr Prosser turned to his host
and said, "Judging from all I see and hear, Maltby, a parish like yours
must be a famous place for testing the working value of many modern
theories of morality and religion."
"Yes," was the reply; "what you say, my dear friend, is true indeed.
Learned and amiable men sit in their libraries and college rooms, and
weave out of their own intellects or consciousness wonderful theories of
the goodness of human nature, the charms of a more genial Christianity
than is to be found by ordinary seekers in the Scriptures, and the need
of a wider entrance to a broader road to heaven than the strait gate and
narrow way of the Gospels. But let such men come to Crossbourne, and
have to deal with these people of shrewd and sharpened intellects,
strong wills, strong passions, and strong temptations, and they will
find that the old-fashioned gospel is, after all, the only thing that
will meet all man's moral and spiritual needs. I have never been more
struck with this than in the case of a reformed-infidel amongst us: the
change in that man has been indeed wonderful, as even his bitterest
enemies are constrained to acknowledge,--he has indeed found the gospel
to be to him the `pearl of great price.' The change in that man's
character, home, and even expression of countenance, is truly as from
darkness to light."
"I wish," observed Miss Maltby, "there was less of the theoretical and
fanciful, and more of the practical and scriptural, in many of the
modern schemes proposed for the acceptance of my own sex in the matter
of education. I wish wise men would let us alone, and allow us to keep
our proper place, and follow out our proper calling, as these may be
plainly gathered from the great storehouse of all wisdom."
"Pray give us your thoughts a little more fully, Miss Maltby," said the
doctor. "I think there may be one here at any rate who will benefit by
them."
"Two, John, at least," said his wife, laughing: "for if I am the one who
am to benefit, you will be the other; for whatever improves me will be
sure to improve your home, so we shall share the profits."
Her husband held out his hand to her, and while they exchanged a loving
pressure, Miss Maltby said: "Woman seems now to be treated as an
independent rational being, whose one great object ought to be in this
life to outstrip, or at any rate keep on a level with, the other sex in
all intellectual pursuits. Did God put her into the world for this?
Did he give her as a rule faculties and capacities for this? I cannot
believe it. This ambition to shine, this thirst for excessive
education, this craving after female university distinctions, why all
this is eating out that which is truly womanly in hundreds of our girls,
and turning them into a sort of intellectual mermaids, only one half
women, and the other half something monstrous and unnatural. And what
is the result? Let me read you the words of a high authority--Dr
Richardson: `These precocious, coached-up children are never well,' he
says. `Their mental excitement keeps up a flush which, like the
excitement caused by strong drink in older children, looks like health,
but has no relation to it.' And if this overtasking the mind is so
injurious to the body, what will our women of the next generation be if
things go on with us as they are doing at present? I must just quote
again from the same authority. Dr Richardson says, `If women succeed
in their clamour for admission into the universities, and like moths
follow their sterner mates into the midnight candle of learning, the
case will be bad indeed for succeeding generations; and the geniuses and
leaders of the nation will henceforth be derived from those simple
pupils of the Board schools who entered into the conflict of life with
reading, writing, and arithmetic, free of brain to acquire learning of
every kind in the full powers of developed manhood.'"
"You make out a very gloomy case and prospect for us," said Mrs Prosser
sadly and thoughtfully.
"I do," replied the other; "and what makes all this far worse is, that
this mental overwork cannot go on without depriving the sufferers--for
they _are_ sufferers to an extent they little dream of--of that sweet
privilege of being a true blessing to others which Christian mothers,
daughters, and sisters enjoy, whose work inside, and moderately outside
the home, is done simply, unostentatiously, and in a womanly manner.
Verily, those women who sacrifice all to this mental forcing, to this
race for intellectual distinction,--verily, they have their reward. But
they can look for no other."
"But stay, my dear friend," interposed Dr Prosser. "I have been going
with you heart and soul, only I felt a little jolt just then, as if the
wheels ran over a stone. Was not that last expression a little
uncharitable? Will all women who covet and strive after intellectual
honours be necessarily shut out of heaven?"
"Far be it from me to say so," exclaimed Miss Maltby earnestly; "I was
speaking about reward. Surely we make some sad mistakes on this
subject; I mean about reward in a better world. We are naturally so
afraid, some of us, of putting good works in the wrong place, that we
have gone into the opposite extreme, and turned them out of their right
place. It is surely one of the sweetest and most encouraging of
thoughts that Jesus will condescend to reward earnest work done for him,
though after all only the fruit of his own grace. But if we women are
to have our share in these heavenly rewards, our hearts cannot be
engrossed in the pursuit of earthly intellectual prizes. Oh! We cannot
think and speak too earnestly on such a subject as this; can we, dear
brother?"
"No, indeed," said the vicar, "when we remember that the Lord is coming
again, and then shall he reward every one according to his works."
No one spoke for a while, and then Mrs Prosser asked, "What do you
think, dear Miss Maltby, of these female guilds, and societies, and
clubs?"
"I think very ill of them," was the reply; "for they substitute, or are
in danger of substituting, self-imposed rules and motives for the simple
rules and constraining motives set before us in God's Word."
"I don't quite understand you," said the other.
"I mean thus," continued Miss Maltby. "Let us take an example. I have
some young lady friends who have joined an `early-rising club.' They
are to get up and be downstairs by a certain hour every morning, or pay
a forfeit, and are to keep a strict account of their regularities or
irregularities, as the case may be."
"And what harm do you see in this?" asked Dr Prosser.
"Just this," replied the other: "it seems to me that this banding
together to accomplish an object, in itself no doubt desirable, gives a
sort of semi-publicity to it, and thereby robs it of its simplicity, and
in a measure deprives God of his glory in it, as though the constraining
love of Christ were not sufficient to induce us to acquire habits of
self-denial and usefulness. How much better for one who desires to live
in the daily habit of unostentatious self-discipline modestly to
practise this regularity of early-rising as an act of Christian self-
denial, to be known and marked by Him who will accept and graciously
bless it, if done to please him and in his strength. In a word, dear
friends, I cannot but think that our female character is likely to
suffer by the adoption of these new and, in my view, unscriptural
theories and systems, and that the less of excitement and publicity
there is in woman's work, and the more of the quiet home work and home
influence in her doings, the holier, the healthier, the happier, and the
more truly useful will she be."
"I quite agree with my sister in this matter," observed the vicar. "I
believe that there is a subtle element of evil in this club system among
young females which has escaped the notice of many Christian people. I
mean the independence of _home_ which it generates, as well as the new
motives which it introduces. Thus, a bright, intelligent young lady
friend of mine had joined a society or club for secular reading. The
members are bound to read works, selected by a responsible person
connected with the society, for one hour every day, a certain fine
having to be paid for every hour missed. And what was the consequence
in my young friend's case? Why, the society had usurped the place of
the parents; it, not they, was to be the guide of her studies, and home
duties must remain undone rather than this hour be infringed upon: for
it was a point of honour to keep this hour sacred, as it were; and so
the debt of honour had to be paid, even though the debt of conscience--
that is, what home duties required--should be left unpaid. Just as it
is on the turf and at the gaming-table,--the man's gaming debts are
called debts of honour, and _must_ be paid, come what will, while debts
to the tradesman, whose livelihood depends on his customers' honesty,
may remain unpaid. Such has been, or rather _had_ been the result with
my young friend. But finding that this reading-club was detaching her
thoughts from home, weakening the hold of home upon her, causing her to
lean on the judgment of others rather than on that of her parents, and
to neglect, or do with an ill grace, duties clearly assigned to her by
God, and to substitute for them self-imposed tasks and studies, she had
the good sense and good principle to give it up. Surely a system which
has a tendency to draw young people out of the circle of home duty,
influence, and authority, and thus to make them independent of those
whom God has given them to be their guides and counsellors, and to
substitute the rules and penalties of a self-constituted society for the
motives and discipline of the gospel, can neither be sound in itself,
nor strengthening to the character, nor healthful either for mind or
soul."
"Well," said the doctor thoughtfully, "there is a great deal, I am sure,
in what you say, and I think my dear wife and myself are getting round
to be pretty much of one mind with you now on these important matters."
It was with much regret that Dr Prosser and his wife took their leave
of the vicarage and its inmates on the first of May. It was a lovely
morning, combining all the vigorous freshness of spring with the mature
warmth of summer. As the doctor and the vicar strolled down to the
station, leaving Mrs Prosser to ride down with the luggage, they
encountered Thomas Bradly, who was also on his way to the line.
"Good morning, Thomas," said Mr Maltby; "do you know how Edward Taylor
is to-day?"
"Badly enough in body, sir," replied Bradly; "but I believe the Lord's
blessing this trouble to his soul, and so he's bringing good out of
evil.--And so I suppose we're to lose Dr Prosser. Well, I'm sorry for
it, for all the working-men I've talked with was greatly set up with the
lecture he gave us in the Town Hall the other night, and we were hoping
he'd give us another."
"We must get him to run down and favour us again when the autumn comes
round," said Mr Maltby.
"That I shall be charmed to do," replied the doctor. "It was quite
refreshing to speak td such an audience. They don't leave one in any
doubt about their understanding and appreciating what is said to them."
"That's true, sir," said Bradly, "and that makes it all the more
important they should listen to them as can show them as Scripture and
science come from the same God, and so can't possibly contradict one
another; and that's what you did, and I was very thankful to hear you do
it."
"I am glad that I made that clear," said the doctor.
"Yes, you did, sir; and I'm so glad you did it without any `ifs' and
`buts.' Why, we had a chap here the other day--the vicar weren't at
home at the time--and he puts out bills to say as he were going to give
a popular lecture on the Evidences of Christianity, Historical,
Geographical, and I don't know what besides. It were put about too as
he were an able man, and a Christian man, and so me and some of my
friends went to hear him. But, bless you, he couldn't go straight at
his subject, but he must be making all sorts of apologies, he was so
precious fearful of speaking too strongly in favour of the Word of God
and the gospel, and lest he should be uncharitable to them as didn't see
just as he did; and he were full of compliments to this sceptical writer
and that sceptical writer, and told us all their chief objections, and
was so anxious to be candid, and not put his own opinions too strongly,
that most of us began to think as the lecture ought to have been called
a lecture _against_ the evidences of Christianity. I'm sure, for one
who remembered what he said in favour of the Bible there'd be a dozen as
would just carry home the objections, and forget the little as was said
on the other side. Indeed, it reminded me of Bobby Hunt's flower-
garden. But I ax your pardon, sir; I mustn't be taking up more of your
time."
"Oh, go on by all means," said Dr Prosser, laughing; "I want to hear
your illustration from Bobby Hunt's flower-garden."
"Well, sir, Bobby Hunt, as he were usually called, though he preferred
to be spoken to as _Mr_. Hunt, had a cottage on the hills. He were a
man as always talked very big. He'd once been a gentleman's butler, and
had seen how the gentlefolks went on. So he liked to make things about
him seem bigger than they really was. One day, in the back end of the
year, he met me in the town, and asked me why I'd never been over to see
his conservatory and flower-garden. I said I'd come over some day, and
so I did.--`I'm come to see your flower-garden,' says I.--`Come along,'
says he; `only, you mustn't expect too much.'--`'Tain't likely,' says I;
but I weren't exactly prepared for what I did see, or rather didn't see.
At the back of his cottage was a little bit of ground, with a few
potatoes and stumps of cabbages in it, all very untidy; and he takes me
to the end of this, and says, `There's my flower-garden.'--`Where?' says
I.--`There,' says he.--`I can see lots of weeds,' says I, `but scarce
anything else.'--`Oh,' he says, `it only wants the weeds clearing off,
and you'll find more flowers than you think for.'--It were pretty much
the same with the gent's lecture. He showed us plenty of infidel weeds;
but as for the Scripture flowers, they was so smothered by the sceptical
objections, it'd take a sharp eye to notice 'em at all."
"You don't think, then, my friend," asked the doctor, "that this
apologetic style--this parade of candour in stating the views and
objections of the sceptical--is of much use among the people of
Crossbourne?"
"No use at all, sir, here or anywhere else, you may depend upon it. We
don't want such candour as that. The sceptics and, their creeds and
their objections can take care of themselves. We want just to have the
simple truth set before us."
"I quite agree with you," said the doctor: "timid defence is more
damaging to the cause of truth than open attack."
"I believe you, sir. Suppose I were to ask you to employ one of my
mates, and you was to ask me if I could give him a good character; what
would you think of him if I were to say, `Well, I've a good opinion of
him myself, and he's honest and all right, for anything that I know to
the contrary; but I should like you to know that John Styles don't think
him over honest, and Anthony Birks told me the other day as he wouldn't
trust him further than he could see him; and though Styles and Birks
aren't no friends of mine, still they're very respectable men, and
highly thought of by some. But, for all that, I hope you'll employ my
mate, for I've a very high opinion of him myself on the whole'? If I
were to give you such a character of my mate, would it dispose you to
engage him? I fancy not. But this is just how some of these gents
recommends the Scriptures in their lectures and their books. It's my
honest conviction, doctor, they're not loyal believers in God's truth
themselves, or they'd never defend it in this left-handed way."
"I'm afraid what you say is too true," said Dr Prosser; "and I shall
not forget our conversation on this subject.--What a lovely day!" he
continued, turning to Mr Maltby. "What a contrast to the day on which
I last passed through Crossbourne."
"When was that?" asked his friend; "I did not know that you had been in
this neighbourhood before."
"Oh, I was only passing through by rail on my way to town. Let me see;
I was coming from the north, and passed your station late at night on
the 23rd of last December."
"Ah, Thomas!" said the vicar, "that is a night _we_ cannot forget.--Poor
Joe Wright! His was a terrible end indeed."
"What! A man killed on the line that night near Crossbourne?" said the
doctor. "I remember having my attention drawn to it more particularly,
because it must have happened a few minutes after I passed over the very
same spot; so I gathered from the account of the accident in the
_Times_."
"You must have been going up to London then by the express," said his
friend.
"Yes. And I've special cause to remember the night--it was dismal,
rainy, and chilly. The train was very full, and I was a little anxious
about my luggage, as it contained some articles of considerable value.
There was no room for it in the luggage vans, which were full when I
joined the train, and I had to speak rather sharply to a porter who I
suspect was not over sober. He jerked up my things very roughly on to
the top of the first-class carriage into which I got, and was going to
leave one of the most important articles on the platform, if I had not
jumped out and seen it put up myself. And then I had to scold him again
for not covering the luggage properly with the tarpaulin, without which
protection it would, some of it at least, have been damaged, as a steady
rain was falling. I don't know when I have been more put out, and
really I felt ashamed of myself afterwards. However, all was right in
the end; the luggage was all safe and uninjured, and I had a prosperous
journey."
"I'll wish you good morning, sir," said Thomas Bradly to the doctor, as
they entered the station yard. "A pleasant journey to you, sir; and
there'll be many of us working-men as'll be very proud to see and hear
you again in Crossbourne."
"Farewell, my good friend," said the other. "I shall look forward with
much pleasure to the fulfilment of my promise."
A few minutes more, and Dr and Mrs Prosser were on their way back to
the great city.