AN OLD STORY.
Meantime Flossy, deserted by her companion, made her way somewhat
timidly down to the stand, amazed by the great congregation of people
who had formed themselves into a Sunday-school. With all their haste the
girls had gotten a very late start. The opening exercises were all over,
and the numerous teachers were turning to their work. Strangely enough,
the first person whom Flossy's eye took in distinctly enough for
recognition was Mr. Roberts. He had recognized her, also, and was coming
toward her.
"How do you do this morning?" he said, holding out his hand. "Do you
know I have a mission for you? There are two boys who seem to belong to
nobody, and to have nothing in common with this gathering, except
curiosity. The superintendent has twice tried to charm them in, but
without success--they will come no further than that tree. I think they
have slipped in from the village, probably in a most unorthodox fashion,
and what I am coming at is, will you go out under the tree to them and
beguile them into attending a Sabbath-school for once in their lives?
They look to me as though it was probably a rare occurrence."
Now you are not to suppose that this invitation came to Flossy with the
same sound that it would have had to you, if Mr. Roberts had come to you
that Sabbath morning and asked you to tell those two boys a Bible story.
It is something that you have probably been doing a good deal of, all
your grown-up life, and two boys at Chautauqua are no more to you than
two boys anywhere else, except that there is a delightful sensation
connected with having a class-room out in the open air. But imagine
yourself suddenly confronted by Dr. Vincent, and asked if you would be
so kind as to step on the platform and preach to five thousand people,
from a text that he would select for you! Now you have something of an
idea as to how this request felt to Flossy. A rare glow spread all over
her face, and she looked up at her questioner with eyes that were
quivering in tears.
"You do not know what you are saying," she said, in low and trembling
voice. "I have not been to a Sabbath-school in seven years, and I never
taught anybody anything in my life."
It was true that he did not know. It seemed to him such a very little
thing that he had asked. However, he spoke gently enough as one who was
courteous, even when he could not quite comprehend.
"Then is not to-day a good time to commence? You will surely never have
a better opportunity."
But she shook her head, and turned quite away from him, walking down
among the trees where no people were. Her joy was all gone, and her
pleasant time. She had meant to go to Sabbath-school; to sit down
quietly in some body's class and learn, oh! a very great deal during the
next hour. Now she was all stirred up, and could not go anywhere.
As for Mr. Roberts, he went back to the large class who were waiting
for him. And those two boys hovered around the edge of that feast like
hungry creatures who yet had never learned to come to the table and take
their places. Flossy looked at them; at first indignantly, as at
miserable beings who had spoiled her pleasure; then she became
fascinated by their bright, dirty faces and roguish ways. She edged a
little nearer to them. Boys she was afraid of; she knew nothing about
them. Had they been a little older, and been dressed well, and been of
the stamp of boys who knew how to bring her handkerchief to her when she
dropped it, she would have known what to say to them. But boys who were
not more than twelve or fourteen, and who were both ragged and dirty,
were new phases of life to her.
"Why don't you go to Sunday-school?" she questioned at last, with a
timid air. She could at least ask that. They were not the least timid as
to answering; the older and the dirtier of the two turned his roguish
eyes on her and surveyed her from head to foot before he said:
"Why don't you?"
Flossy was unprepared for this question, but she answered quickly and
truthfully:
"Because I am afraid to go."
Both boys stared, and then laughed, and the other younger one said:
"So be we."
"I suppose we are both very silly," Flossy said. "But I have not been to
Sunday-school for so long that I have forgotten all about it. Let's have
one of our own that we are not afraid to go to."
And she sat bravely down on the stump at her feet; her mood had changed
very suddenly; only yesterday she had read a verse in that Bible, and it
thrilled her then, and came to her now:
"The man departed and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him
whole."
Suppose she were the man, and these were the Jews, could she not say to
them, "He has made me whole"? She could tell them about that pool, and
about the sick man. It wouldn't be teaching in Sunday-school, but it
would be doing the best thing that she could.
It suddenly occurred to her to wonder where the lesson was that was
being taught this morning, and she consulted the lesson leaf that Mr.
Roberts had left in her hand. The glow on her face deepened and spread
as she recognized the very story which had so filled her heart the day
before! What if the great Physician had actually selected her to tell of
that miracle of healing to these two neglected ones! Surely they were
not so formidable as the Jews! But how in the world to begin was a
bewilderment. Clearly she must decide at once if she was to have any
class, for her two boys began to look about them, and show signs of
flight.
"Did you ever hear about a wonderful spring that used to cure people?"
"Lots of 'em. I used to live right by one that cured the rheumatiz."
"But this one would cure other things, only it wouldn't cure people all
the time. There was just one time in the year when it would do it; and
then the one that got in first was the only one cured."
Her listeners looked skeptical.
"What was that for?" queried the bolder of the two. "Why didn't it cure
but one?"
"I don't know," Flossy said. "There are ever so many things that I know
that I can't tell why they are so. For instance, I don't know why that
spring you have been telling me about cures the rheumatism, but I know
it does, for you told me so."
"No more do I," the boy said, promptly, having in his heart a rising
respect for the young teacher and her story.
Then this new beginner, with the air of a diplomatist, told all the
details of this wonderful cure, without once mentioning the name of
either person or place. An innate sense of the human heart told her that
"Jerusalem" and "Jesus" were both probably connected in the minds of
these two with the Bible, and their appearance told her that they were
likely to be skeptical as to the interest of Bible stories. But, like
all ignorant persons, there was a credulous side to their nature. It is
surprising what marvelous stories people are prepared to receive and
credit, provided only that they do not come from the Bible, with a "Thus
saith the Lord" to vouch for them. Then, indeed, they are apt to become
"unreasonable" and "improbable." Presently her boys volunteered some
remarks and asked some questions.
"Jolly! that fellow must have felt good: I guess he wanted to run all
around the country and tell about it. Where was this spring, and what
was the man's name that cured him?"
The other chimed in: "Yes, and how did he do it? That's what I'm after.
And is he dead? 'cause I don't hear of no such cures now-days."
Then was Flossy tremulous of heart. She had become eagerly interested in
her story and her boys. Would the charm that she had woven be broken the
moment they knew the story's origin? But of course she must tell them,
for what good else would the story do?
"He is dead," she said, slowly, answering the last question first. "That
is, he is what _you_ call dead. But, of course, you know as well as I do
that that doesn't mean what it seems to; it means simply that he doesn't
live in the same place that he once did. He went to heaven to live ever
so many years ago."
She waited to feel the effect of this announcement. The boys were silent
and grave. They had evidently heard of heaven, and had some measure of
respect for the name. The new teacher did not know what to say next. The
boys helped her. The younger one drew a heavy sigh.
"Well, all I've got to say is, I wish he was alive now," he said, in a
regretful tone, "'cause my mother has been sick longer than thirty-eight
years; she has been sick about all her life, and she is real bad now, so
she can't walk at all. I s'pose he could cure her if he was here."
"I suppose he could cure her now." Flossy said this slowly, reverently,
looking earnestly at the boy, hoping to convey to him a sense of her
meaning. He looked utterly puzzled. Light began to dawn on the face of
the older boy.
"She's been tellin' us one of them Bible stories," he said, speaking not
to Flossy, but to his companion, and assuming an injured air, as if a
wrong had been done them.
Flossy spoke quickly:
"Of course I have. I thought you wanted to hear something that really
happened, and not a made up story." This seemed to be an appeal to their
dignity, and they eyed her reflectively.
"How do you know it happened?" ventured the younger one.
Flossy gave a rapid and animated answer.
"There are about a hundred reasons why I know it; it would take me all
day to tell you half of them. But one is, that I read it in a book which
good men who know a great deal, and who have been studying all their
lives to find out about it, say they know is true; and I believe what
they tell me about Washington and Lincoln and other men whom I never
saw, so I ought to believe them when they tell me about this man."
"But there's _one_ thing you don't know. You don't know that he can cure
folks now, and he don't do it." This was spoken with a quiet
positiveness, and with the air that said, "_That_ can't be disputed, and
you know it can't."
Flossy hesitated just a moment; the glow on her face deepened and
spread. Then she answered in much the same tone that the boy had used:
"I know he _can_, and I have good reason for knowing. I'll tell you a
secret; you are the very first persons I have told about it, but he has
cured me. I have been sick all my life, when I came here to Chautauqua I
was sick. I could not do anything that I was made to do, and I kept
doing things all the time that were not meant for me to do, but he has
cured me."
The boys looked at her in absolute incredulous wonder.
"Was you sick in bed when you came?" ventured one of them at last.
"No; it is not that kind of sickness that I mean. That is when the body
is sick, the body that when the soul goes away looks like nothing but
marble, can not move, nor feel, nor speak; that isn't of much
consequence, you know, because we are sure that the soul will go away
from it after awhile. It is this soul of mine that is going to live
forever that was cured."
"How do you know it was?" came again from these wondering boys. Flossy
smiled a rare, bright smile that charmed them.
"If _yours_ had been cured you would not ask me that question," she
said; "you would _know_ how I know it. But I can't tell you how it is:
don't you know there are some things that you are sure of that you can't
explain? You are sure you can think, aren't you? but how would you set
to work to explain to me that you are sure? The only way that you can
know how is by going to this doctor and getting cured; then you will
understand."
"I'd like him if he would cure folks' _bodies_," began the boy who had a
sick mother, speaking in a doubtful, somewhat dissatisfied tone.
"He does," Flossy said, quickly. "Don't people's bodies get well
sometimes? and who can cure bodies except the one who made them? If you
want your mother cured you ought to try him. If she is to be made well
you may be sure that he can do it; but why should he so long as you do
not care enough about it to ask him?"
There was a rush and a bustle among the crowds in the distance.
Sunday-school session was over, and the great company were moving for
seats for the morning service. The boys took the alarm and fled, each
glancing back to nod and smile at the bright apparition who had told
them a story. Flossy picked up her Bible; she had not needed to use it
during this talk. The story of Bethesda had burned itself so into her
heart with that morning reading that she had no need to look at it
again. She gave a thoughtful little sigh.
"I don't know about that being teaching," she said within her heart,
"but I certainly told them about Jesus, and I told them it was Jesus who
had 'made me whole.' I made my own experience 'witness' for me to that
degree. If that is what they mean by teaching I like to do it. I mean to
go to Sunday-school just as soon as I get home, and if I find out that
they just tell about things as they are in the Bible I can do it. I can
make the boys listen to me, I know."
Bright little fairy that she was! There was a new glow about her face.
She was waking to the thought that there was such a thing as power over
people's brains. No danger but she will use her knowledge. Let me tell
you another thing that Chautauqua did for her. It planted the seed that
shall blossom into splendid teaching. There was one teacher who gave
many glances that morning to the little group around that old tree
stump. Mr. Roberts, from his point of observation, not far away, watched
this scene from beginning to end. It fascinated him. He saw the timid
beginning and the ever-increasing interest, until, when Flossy closed
her Bible and arose, he turned his eyes from her with a quiet smile in
them, and to himself he said: "Unless I am very greatly mistaken she has
found something that she can do."