HUMAN NATURE.
The dismal tidings from the lower regions, that the larder had
been stripped and that scarcely even a pie remained, soon became
an open secret, about which every one was whispering and commenting.
The supperless wore a defrauded and injured air. The eyes of many
who had not left so important a duty to the uncertainties of the
future, but, like Auntie Lammer, had availed themselves of the
first opportunity, now twinkled shrewdly and complacently. They
had the comfortable consciousness of taking care of themselves. But
the greater number were honestly indignant and ashamed that such
a thing should have happened. This feeling of mortification was
increased when the committee reported but a small sum of money
handed in as yet. The majority were provoked at others, and a few
at themselves, for having brought so little. As the situation became
clearer, all began to act characteristically, some preparing to
slink away and escape a disagreeable state of things, and others
putting their heads together in the wish to remedy matters. Some
giggled, and others looked solemn. Some tried to appear resigned,
as if it were a dispensation of Providence, and others snarled
about "them mean Joneses and Rhamms."
Lottie hastily summoned her party together, and told them of the
dire emergency, as Mrs. Gubling had stated it.
"Now," said she, "if you gentlemen have got any wit worth the name,
you must hit on some way of helping the parson out of his scrape,
for I have taken a great interest in him, or rather his wife. She
is the queerest little woman I ever saw. I shouldn't wonder if she
were an angel in disguise."
"As you are undisguised," whispered De Forrest
"O, be still, Julian. That compliment is as delicate as Auntie
Lammer's appetite. But see, some of these mean 'locusts of Egypt,'
after eating their minister out of house and home, are preparing
to go. We must get a collection before a soul leaves the house.
Julian, you lock the back door, and, Mr. Hemstead, you stand by
the front door; and now, Mr. Harcourt, you are a lawyer, and know
how to talk sharply to people: you give these cormorants to understand
what we expect them to do before they leave."
Hemstead obeyed with alacrity; for the effort to help the overburdened
pastor of Scrub Oaks meet the rigors of winter seemed about to
end in disastrous failure. He had noticed, with satisfaction, that
many of the people shared his regret, and wished to do something,
but through lack of leadership the gathering was about to break
up, each one blaming some one else, and all secretly mortified at
the result.
Harcourt thought a moment, and then, stepping to a position where
he could be seen through open doors and heard from the upper story,
clapped his hands loudly to secure silence and draw attention to
himself.
"Do you know where your pastor has gone?" he asked. "He is out
now buying provisions with his own money to feed a crowd who came
here under the false pretence of giving a donation, but, in truth,
seemingly to eat him out of house and home."
Flushes of shame and anger flashed into nearly every face at these
stinging words, but Harcourt continued remorselessly: "You know
who I am, and I thought I knew something about you. I had heard
that the people back in the country were large-handed, large-hearted,
and liberal, but we must be mistaken. I think this the quintessence
of meanness, and if you break up to-night without a big collection
I will publish you throughout the land. I want you to understand
that your minister has nothing to do with what I say. I speak on
my own responsibility."
"Capital!" whispered Lottie. "That was red-hot shot, and they
deserved it. If that don't drain their pockets, nothing will."
But she was not a little surprised and disgusted, when a Stalwart
young farmer stepped out, and with a face aflamed with anger, said
in harsh emphasis: "I was sorry and ashamed to have this affair end
as it promised to, and was going to come down handsomely myself,
and try to get some others to, but since that sprig of the law has
tried to bully and whip us into doing something, I won't give one
cent I want you to understand, Tom Harcourt, that whatever may be
true of the people back in the country, you, nor no other man, can
drive us with a horsewhip."
The young man's words seemed to meet with general approval, and
there were many confirmatory nods and responses. They were eager
to find some one to blame, and upon whom they could vent their
vexation; and this aristocratic young lawyer, whose words had cut
like knives, was like a spark in powder. Many could go away and
half persuade themselves that if it had not been for him they might
have done something handsome, and even the best-disposed present
were indignant. It seemed that the party would break up, before
the minister returned, in a general tumult.
The young farmer stalked to the front door, and said threateningly
to Hemstead, "Open that door."
"No, don't you do it," whispered Lottie.
He threw the door open wide.
"O, for shame!" she said aloud; "I did not think that of you, Mr.
Hemstead."
Without heeding her he confronted the young farmer and asked, "Do
you believe in fair play?"
"Yes, and fair words, too."
"All right, sir. I listened quietly and politely to you. Will you
now listen to me? I have not spoken yet."
"O, certainly," said the young farmer, squaring himself and folding
his arms on his ample chest. "Let every dog have his day."
Hemstead then raised his powerful voice, so that it could be heard
all through the house, and yet he spoke quietly and calmly.
"The gentleman who last addressed you now in the spirit of fair play
offers to listen to me. I ask all present, with the same spirit of
candor and politeness, to hear me for a few moments. But the door
is open wide, and if there are any who don't believe in fair play
and a fair hearing all around, they are at liberty to depart at
once."
No one moved. And the young farmer said, with the sternness of his
square face greatly relaxing, "You may shut the door, sir. We will
all listen when spoken to in that style. But we don't want to be
driven like cattle." Then, yielding farther to the influence of
Hemstead's courtesy, he stepped forward and shut the door himself.
"Thank you, sir," said Hemstead, heartily, and then continued: "I
am a stranger among you, and am here to-night very unexpectedly.
My home is in the West, and, like yourselves, I belong to that
class who, when they give, give not from their abundance, but out
of their poverty. There has been a mistake here to-night. I think
I understand you better than my friend Mr. Harcourt. From the
pleasantness of the evening mote are present than you looked for.
There are many young people here who I suspect have come from
a distance, unexpectedly, for the sake of a ride and frolic, and
were not as well prepared as if their households had known of it
before. Long drives and the cold night have caused keen appetites.
When the result became known a few moments ago, I saw that many
felt that it was too bad, and that something ought to be done, and
no one was more decided in the expression of this feeling than the
gentleman who last spoke. All that was needed then, and all that is
needed now, is to consider the matter a moment and then act unitedly.
I ask you as Christian men and women, as humane, kind-hearted
people, to dismiss from your minds all considerations save one,--your
pastor's need. I understand that he has six little children. A
long, cold winter is before him and his. He is dependent upon you
for the comforts of life. In return, he is serving the deepest and
most sacred needs of your natures, and in his poverty is leading
you to a faith that will enrich you forever. It is not charity that
is asked. A church is a family, and you are only providing for your
own. How could any of you be comfortable this winter if you knew
your minister was pinched and lacking? The Bible says that the
laborer is worthy of his hire. You have only to follow the impulse
of your consciences, your own better natures, and I have no fears.
A few moments ago your pastor had a painful surprise. You can have
a very agreeable one awaiting him by the time he returns. You can
make his heart glad for months to come, and so make your own glad.
Though I am a stranger, as I said, and a poor man, yet I am willing
to give double what I proposed at first, and if some one will take
up a collection will hand in ten dollars."
"Give me your hand on that," said the young farmer, heartily; "and
there's ten dollars more to keep it company. When a man talks like
that, I am with him, shoulder to shoulder. Will some one bring me
the dominie's hat?"
One was soon forthcoming.
"And now," said the young man, stepping up to Lottie, "you seem to
take a sight of interest in this matter, miss. I think you can look
five dollars out of most of the young chaps here. I'll go around
with you, and see that each one comes down as he or she ought. If
anybody ain't got what they'd like to give, I'll lend it to 'em,
and collect it, too," he added, raising his strong, hearty voice.
Thus through Hemstead's words and action the aspect of the skies
changed, and where a desolating storm had threatened there came
a refreshing shower. What he had said commended itself to so many
that the mean and crotchety found it politic to fall in with the
prevailing spirit.
Amid approving nods, whispered consultations, and the hauling out
of all sorts of queer receptacles for money, the graceful city belle
and the blunt, broad-shouldered farmer started on an expedition
that, to the six little Dlimms, would be more important than one
for the discovery of the North Pole.
"No coppers now!" shouted the young man.
Lottie, fairly bubbling over with fun and enjoyment, was all
graciousness, and with smiles long remembered by some of the rustic
youth, certainly did beguile them into generosity at which they
wondered ever after.
The result was marvellous, and the crown of the old hat was becoming
a crown of joy indeed to the impoverished owner, who now had the
promise of some royal good times.
That fast-filling hat meant nourishing beef occasionally, a few
books for the minister's famishing mind, a new dress or two for
the wife, and a warm suit for the children all round.
No one was permitted to escape, and in justice it could now be said
that few wished to, for all began to enjoy the luxury of doing a
good and generous deed.
When they had been to nearly all, Lottie said to her now beaming
companion, "Go and get Mrs. Dlimm, and seat her in the large
rocking-chair in the parlor."
The poor little woman, having witnessed all the earlier scenes from
the stairs with strong and varying feelings, had, during the last
few moments, seen Lottie pass with such a profusion of greenbacks
in her husband's hat that in a bewildering sense of joy and
gratitude she had fled to the little nursery sanctuary, and when
found by some of the ladies was crying over the baby in the odd
contradictoriness of feminine action. She was hardly given time to
wipe her eyes before she was escorted on the arm of the now gallant
farmer, to the chair of state in the parlor.
Then Lottie advanced to make a little speech, but could think of
nothing but the old school-day formula; and so the stately introduction
ended abruptly but most effectively, as follows:
"As a token of our esteem and kindly feeling, and as an expression
of--of--I--we hereby present you with--with the reward of merit";
and she emptied the hat in the lady's lap.
Instead of graceful acknowledgment, and a neatly worded speech in
reply, Mrs. Dlimm burst into tears, and springing up threw her arms
around Lottie's neck and kissed her, while the greenbacks were
scattered round their feet like an emerald shower. Indeed the
grateful little woman, in her impulse, had stepped forward and upon
the money.
The city belle, to her great surprise and vexation, found that some
spring of her own nature had been touched, and that her eyes also
were overflowing. As she looked around deprecatingly, and half-ashamed,
she saw that there was a prospect of a general shower, and that many
of the women were sniffling audibly, and the brusque young farmer
stood near, looking as if he could more easily hold a span of
run-away horses than he could hold in himself.
At this moment Hemstead stepped forward, and said: "My friends,
we can learn a lesson from this scene, for it is true to our best
nature, and very suggestive. Your pastor's wife standing there
upon your gift that she may kiss the giver (for in this instance
Miss Marsden but represents you and your feeling and action) is
a beautiful proof that we value more and are more blessed by the
spirit of kindness which prompts the gift than by the gift itself.
See, she puts her foot on the gift, but takes the giver to her heart.
The needs of the heart--the soul--are ever greater than those of
the body, therefore she acknowledges your kindness first, because
with that you have supplied her chief need. She does not undervalue
your gift, but values your kindness more. Hereafter, as you supply
the temporal need of your pastor, as I believe you ever will, let
all be provided with the same honest kindness and sympathy. Let
us also all learn, from this lady's action, to think of the Divine
Giver of all good before his best earthly gifts."
Mrs. Dlimm had recovered herself sufficiently by this time to turn
to the people around her and say, with a gentle dignity that would
scarcely have been expected from her: "The gentleman has truly
interpreted to you my very heart. I do value the kindness more
even than the money which we needed so sorely. Our Christian work
among you will be more full of hope and faith because of this scene,
and therefore more successful."
Then, as from a sudden impulse, she turned and spoke to Hemstead
with quaint earnestness: "You are a stranger, sir, but I perceive
from your noble courtesy and bearing--your power to appreciate and
bring out the best there is in us--that you belong to the royal
family of the Great King. Your Master will reward you."
Poor Hemstead, who thus far had forgotten himself in his thought
for others, was now suddenly and painfully made conscious of his
own existence, and at once became the most helpless and awkward of
mortals, as he found all eyes turned toward him. He was trying to
escape from the room without stepping on two or three people--to
Lottie's infinite amusement, though the tears stood in her eyes as
she laughed--when Mrs. Gubling, ignorant of all that had happened,
appeared from the kitchen, and created a diversion in his favor.
The good woman looked as if pickles had been the only part of the
donation supper in which she had indulged, and in a tone of ancient
vinegar, said, "Them as hasn't eaten had better come and take what
they can git now."
A roar of laughter greeted this rather forbidding invitation. But,
before any one could reply, Mr. Dlimm, red and breathless from his
exertions, also entered, and with a faint smile and with the best
courtesy he could master under the trying circumstances, added:
"I am sorry any of our friends should have been kept waiting for
supper. If they will now be so kind as to step down, we will do
the best we can for them."
The good man was as puzzled by a louder explosion of mirth as Mrs.
Gubling had been. The stout farmer whispered something to Lottie,
and then, with an extravagant flourish, offered his arm to Mrs.
Gubling.
"Go 'long with you," she said, giving him a push; but he took her
along with him, while Lottie brought the parson to where his wife
stood surrounded by greenbacks like fallen leaves, which in the
hurry of events had not been picked up. The good man stared at his
wife with her tearful eyes, and Mrs. Gubling stared at the money,
and the people laughed and clapped their hands as only hearty
country people can. Lottie caught the contagion, and laughed with
them till she was ashamed of herself, while the rest of her party,
except Hemstead, laughed at them and the "whole absurd thing," as
they styled it, though Harcourt had a few better thoughts of his
own.
Mrs. Rhamm's lank figure and curious face now appeared from the
kitchen in the desire to solve the mystery of the strange sounds
she heard, and the unheard-of delay in coming to supper. Lottie's
coadjutor at once pounced upon her, and escorted, or rather dragged
her to where she could see the money. She stared a moment, and
then, being near-sighted, got down on her knees, that she might
look more closely.
"She is going to pray to it," cried the farmer; and the simple
people, aware of Mrs. Rhamm's devotion to this ancient god, laughed
as if Sydney Smith had launched his wittiest sally.
"Mrs. Gubling," continued the young man, "if you are not chairman
of the committee, you ought to be, for you are the best man of the
lot."
"I'd have you know I'm no man at all. It's no compliment to tell
a woman she's like a man," interrupted Mrs. Gubling, sharply.
"Well, you've been a ministering angel to us all, this evening;
you can't deny that; and I now move that you and the dominie be
appointed a committee to count this money and report."
It was carried by acclamation.
"Now, while the iron is hot, I'm going to strike again. I move
that we raise the dominie's salary to a thousand a year. We all
know, who know anything, that he can't support his family decently
on six hundred."
In the enthusiasm of the hour this was carried also by those who
at the same time were wondering at themselves and how it all came
about. Strong popular movements are generally surprises, but the
springs of united and generous action are ever within reach, if one
by skill or accident can touch them. Even perverted human nature
is capable of sweet and noble harmonies, if rightly played upon.