THE QUESTION DISCUSSED.
Rev. Dr. Dennis and Rev. Mr. Harrison met just at the corner of Howard
and Clinton Streets, and stopped for a chat. Dr. Dennis was pastor of
the First Church, and Mr. Harrison was pastor of the Fourth, and some of
the sheep belonging to these respective flocks supposed the two churches
to be rivals, but the pastors thereof never thought of such a thing. On
the contrary, they were always getting up excuses for coming in contact
with each other; and woe to the work that was waiting for each when they
chanced to meet of a morning on some shady corner.
"You are to be represented, I hear, at the coming assembly," said Mr.
Harrison, as they shook hands in that hearty way which says, as plainly
as words, "How _very_ glad I am to see you!"
Dr. Dennis shrugged his shoulders.
"Such a representation!" he said. "If the entire congregation had been
canvassed, it would have been impossible to have made more curious
selections. I do wish we could have some real workers from the different
churches."
"Miss Erskine isn't a member of the church, is she?"
"None of them are members, nor Christians; nor have they an atom of
interest in any such matters. They are going for pure fun, and nothing
else."
"Now perhaps they will happily disappoint you by coming back with a
wholesome interest aroused in Sunday-school work, and will really go
into the work for themselves."
"I don't want them," Dr. Dennis said, stoutly. "I wouldn't give a dime
for a hundred such workers; they are an injury to the cause. I want
Sunday-school workers who have a personal, vital sense of the worth of
souls, and a consuming desire to see them converted. All other
Sunday-school teaching is aimless."
Mr. Harrison looked thoughtful.
"We haven't many such, I am afraid," he said, gravely; but I agree with
you in thinking that they should at least be Christians. Still, I
suppose that it is not impossible that some one of these ladies may be
converted."
"Not at Chautauqua," Dr. Dennis said, as one who had looked into the
matter and knew all about it. "I am not entirely in sympathy with that
meeting, anyway; or, that is, I am and I am not, all at once. I think it
would be a grand place for you and me. I haven't the least doubt but
that we would be refreshed, bodily and mentally, and, for that matter,
spiritually. If the whole world were converted I should vote for
Chautauqua with a loud voice; but I am more than fearful as to the
influence of such meetings on the masses--the unconverted world. _They_
will go there for recreation. Their whole aim will be to have a glorious
frolic away from the restraints of ordinary home-life. They will have no
interest in the meetings, no sympathy with the central thought that has
drawn the workers together, and the tendency will be to frolic through
it all.
"The truth is, there will be such a mixing of things that I actually
fear the effect will be wholesale demoralization. At the same time I am
interested in the idea, and am watching it with anxiety. Since I have
heard of the delegation from my own church I have been more convinced
still of the evil influences. It makes me gloomy to think of the
fruitful field such a place will be for the fertile brain of that little
Eurie Mitchell. She is too wild now for civilized life The four walls of
the church and the sacred associations connected with the building serve
to keep her only half controlled when she is actually attending Sabbath
service. There will be nothing to control her in the woods, and she will
lose what little reverence she possesses. I tell you, the more I think
of it, the more certain I am that for such people these great religious
jubilees, holding over the Sabbath, do harm."
"You put it more gently than our friend Mr. Archer," Mr. Harrison said,
smiling. "He is in a condition of absolute scorn. He gives none of them
credit for honesty or genuine interest. He says it is a running away
from work, a regular shirking of what they ought to be doing, and going
off into the woods to have a good time, and, by way of gulling the
public, they pretend to season it with religion."
Dr. Dennis laughed.
"That sounds precisely like him, and is quite as logical as one could
expect, coming from that source," he said, indifferently. "Why doesn't
it occur to his dull brain, that thinks itself such a sharp one, that
the leaders thereof are men responsible to no one save God and their own
consciences for the way in which they spend their time? There is nothing
earthly to hinder their going to the woods, and staying three months if
they please to do so."
"Oh, but I have left out one of the important reasons for the meeting.
It is to make money; a grand speculation, whereby the fortunes of these
same leaders are to be made at the expense of the poor victims whom they
gather about them."
Again Dr. Dennis' shoulders went upward in that peculiar but expressive
shrug.
"Of all the precarious and dangerous ways of making a fortune, I should
think that went ahead," he said, still laughing. "What an idea now!
Shouldn't you suppose people with common sense would have some faint
idea of the immense expenses to be involved in such an undertaking, and
the tremendous risks to be run? If they succeed in meeting their
expenses this year I think they will have cause for rejoicing."
"The point that puzzles me," Mr. Harrison said, "is what particular
commandment would they be breaking if they should actually happen to
have twenty-five cents to put in their pockets when the meeting closed;
though, as you say, I doubt the probability. But they force no one to
come; it is a matter for individual decision, and they render a fair
equivalent for every cent of money spent; at least, if the spender
thinks it is not a fair equivalent he is foolish to go; so why should
they not make enough to justify them in giving their time to this work?"
"Of course, of course," assented Dr. Dennis, heartily; "they ought to;
none but an idiot would think otherwise."
It is to be presumed that both these gentlemen had gotten so far away
from the name that was quoted as holding these views as to forget all
about him, else they certainly would not have been guilty of calling a
brother minister an idiot, however much his arguments might suggest the
thought.
"But," continued Dr. Dennis, "my trouble lies, as I said, in the
results. I have no sort of doubt that great good will be done, and I
have the same feeling of certainty that harm will be done. Take it in my
own church. We are so situated, or we think ourselves so situated, that
not a single one of the earnest, hearty workers who would come back to
us with a blessing for themselves and us, is able to go; instead, we
have four representatives who will turn the whole thing into ridicule,
and dish it up for the entertainment of their friends during the coming
winter.
"That Miss Erskine seems to have a special talent for getting up
Thursday evening entertainments, to invite our people who are supposed
to be interested in the prayer-meeting, but who rarely fail to make it
convenient to go to the party. I imagine a bevy of them being
entertained by Eurie Mitchell. She can do it, and she is looking forward
to just that sort of thing, for I heard her rejoicing over it. That
girl will be injured by Chautauqua; I know it as well as though I
already saw it; and the question with me is, whether the amount of evil
done will not overbalance the good. At the same time I am inconsistent
enough to wish with all my heart that I could be there."
"What about Miss Shipley? Perhaps relief will come to you from that
quarter."
Those shoulders again.
"She is nothing in the world but a little pink feather, and she blows
precisely in the direction of the strongest current; and Satan looks out
for her with untiring patience that the wind shall blow in the exact
direction where it can do her the most harm. Going to Chautauqua with
the influences that will surround her, with Miss Erskine and Miss Wilbur
on the one side, and Eurie Mitchell on the other, will be the very best
thing that Satan can do next for her, and he doubtless knows it."
"I do not know Miss Wilbur at all. Is she also one of your flock?"
Dr. Dennis' face was dark and sad.
"She is an infidel," he said, decidedly. "She does not call herself
such; she wouldn't like to be known as such, because it would be likely
to affect her position in the school. But the name is rightly hers, and
she would do less harm in the world if she owned it."
"It is an extraordinary representation, I declare," Mr. Harrison said, a
little startled. "I have been half inclined to be envious of you because
you were to hear so directly from the meeting, but I believe on the
whole I shall be quite as well off without any delegates as you will
with them."
"Better, decidedly. I am distressed at the whole thing. It will result
disastrously for them all, you mark my words."
And having settled the affairs at Chautauqua, apparently beyond all
repeal, the brethren shook hands again and went to their studies.
Meantime the express train was giving occasional premonitory snorts, and
the four young ladies who had been so thoroughly discussed were in
various stages of unrest, waiting for the moment of departure. A
looker-on would have been able to come to marked conclusions concerning
the different characters of these young ladies, simply from their
manner of dress. Flossy Shipley was the one to look at first. That was a
very good description of her usual style--something to look at. She had
chosen for her traveling dress a pale, lavender cashmere, of that
delightful shade that resents a drop of water as promptly as a drop of
oil. It was trimmed with a contrasting shade of silk, and trimmed
profusely; yards of gathered trimming, headed by yards of flat pleating,
and that in turn headed by yards of folds. The dainty sack and hat, and
the four-buttoned gloves, were as faultless as to fit and as delicate in
color as the dress. In short, Miss Flossy looked as though she might be
ready for an evening concert. Moreover, she felt as if she were, or at
least she had an uncomfortable consciousness as to clothes. She kept a
nervous lookout for the lower flounce whenever the crowd of people
surged her way, and brushed vigorously at the arm of the seat she had
chosen ere she dared to rest _her_ arm on it. Evidently she had given
herself over to the martyrdom of thinking of and caring for clothes
during this journey, and I don't know whether there is a greater
martyrdom made out of a trifle than that. It was one of Flossy's
besetting sins, this arraying herself in glory, and making wrinkles in
her face in the vain attempt to keep so. Not that she was particularly
anxious to save the wear and tear, only she hated to look spotted and
wrinkled, and she could never seem to learn the simple lesson of wearing
the things best suited to the occasion.
Standing near her, toying carelessly with her traveling fan, and looking
as though the thought of dress was something that had passed utterly by
her, was Miss Erskine. She looked like one of those ladies whom
gentlemen in their wisdom are always selecting, pointing them out as
models. "So tasteful and appropriate, and withal so simple in their
dress."
Let me tell you about her dress. It was plain dark brown, precisely the
shade of brown that the fashion of the season required. It was of soft,
lusterless silk. It was very simply made, almost severely plain, as Miss
Erskine knew became a traveler. In fact, elegant simplicity marked her
entire toilet, everything matched, everything was fresh and spotless,
and arranged with an eye to remaining so. I am willing to concede that
she was faultlessly dressed, and it was a real pleasure to see her
thus. But I am also anxious to have the gentlemen understand that that
same simple attire represented more money than two wardrobes like Flossy
Shipley's. It is often so with those delightfully plain and simple
dresses that attract so many people. In fact, it might as well be
admitted, since we are on that subject, that elegant simplicity is
sometimes a very expensive article.
Eurie Mitchell was neither particularly elegant nor noted for
simplicity, yet her dress was not without character. We see enough of
that sort to become familiar with what it means. Its language is simply
a straightened purse, necessitating the putting together of shades that
do not quite harmonize, and trimming in a way that will cover the most
spots and take the least material. That was Eurie's dress. Skirt of one
kind and overdress of another. A very economical fashion, and one not
destined to last long, because of its economy, and the fact that very
elegant ladies rather curl their lips at it, and call it the "patchwork
style." Eurie from necessity rather than choice adopted it, and it was
also her misfortune rather than her taste that the colors were too
light to be really according to the mode. Her gloves were of an entirely
different shade from the rest of the attire, and were mended with a
shade of silk that did not quite match Altogether, Eurie's dress did not
suit Miss Erskine. But, for that matter, neither did it suit herself,
with this difference, that it was, after all, a matter of minor
importance to her.
Miss Wilbur's dress can be disposed of in a single sentence: It was a
black alpaca skirt, not too long, and severely plain, covered to within
three inches with a plain brown linen polonaise; her black hat with a
band of velvet about it, fastened by a single heavy knot, and her
somewhat worn black gloves completed her toilet, and she looked every
inch a lady. The very people who would have curled their aristocratic
lips at Eurie's attempt at style, turned and gave Miss Wilbur a second
thoughtful respectful look.
There was a Mr. Wayne who deserves attention. He possessed himself of
Miss Erskine's fan, and played with it carelessly, while he said:
"You are a queer set. What are you all going off there for, to bury
yourselves in the woods? I don't believe one of you has an idea what you
are about. And it is the very height of the season, too."
"That is the trouble," Miss Erskine said, with a little toss of her
handsome head. "We are sick of the season, and want to get away from it.
I want something new. That is precisely what I am going for."
"I have no doubt you will find it," and the gentleman gave a disdainful
shrug to his shoulders. "Out in the backwoods attending a hallelujah
meeting! I am sure I envy you."
"You don't know what we will find," Eurie Mitchell said, with a defiant
air. "Nor what may happen to us before we return. We may meet our
destinies. I have no doubt they are lurking for us behind some of the
trees. Just you meet the evening train of Wednesday, two weeks hence,
and see if you can not discover the finger of fate having been busy with
us. Wonderful things can happen in two weeks."
Just then the train gave its last warning howl, and Mr. Wayne made rapid
good-bys, a trifle more lingering in the case of Miss Erskine than the
others, and with that prophetic sentence still ringing in his ears he
departed. And the four girls were actually _en route_ for Chautauqua.