A NEW DISPENSATION.
In spite of the discontent which prevailed there, Fairview progressed
with the years of its history. The hard work of the people paid, and
they gradually became well-to-do, although they seemed surprised that
they were not in the poor-house, an event they were always promising
their families.
The old houses in which they had at first lived were replaced with new
ones, the new ones were furnished better than the old ones had been, and
there was a general prosperity which surprised them, for they had not
expected it so soon, if at all. New people came to settle in spite of
the fact that they were neither invited nor expected, and many of those
who came first had money ahead, and were regarded by those who came
later as of a very old and aristocratic stock. Strangest of all, it was
announced that a new minister had been engaged, and that he would arrive
with his family, consisting of a wife and one child, in a few days. My
father made the announcement at the close of his preaching one spring
morning. He had preached to them, he said, because they were too poor to
pay a better man; the Lord had prospered them, and he cheerfully made
way for a successor who had not only religious enthusiasm, but extensive
learning as well. He would continue to exhort his brethren whenever
occasion seemed to require, and aid in doing the work of the Master,
but he believed the good of the church demanded the arrangement he had
made.
There was unusual feeling in his words as he reviewed the hard struggle
of the settlement, and when he had finished, The. Meek, though
apparently in greater convulsions of laughter than ever, managed to say
a few kind words for their pastor, guide, and friend, and two or three
of the other men followed in a similar strain. The women began to cry
softly, as though the occasion were a funeral, and one by one the people
went forward to shake him by the hand, which I thought surprised him,
not being certain but that they were glad to get rid of him, while
Brother Winter wheeled vigorously about, calling upon everybody to
praise the Lord. It was a very unusual occasion, and those who had
lounged outside to read the inscriptions on the head-boards in the grave
lot came back again to see what it was all about, and heard the news
with surprise and astonishment. Finally, the miller’s sister prayed for
everybody, but in a voice so low that nobody knew it, after which the
meeting broke up, and the congregation gathered in little knots in the
church and in the yard to talk of the new minister.
Great curiosity was everywhere expressed, and the curious naturally came
to my father for information. He knew nothing except that the new
minister had been transferred from an Eastern State at his own request;
that his name was the Rev. Goode Shepherd, and that he would be there
for the next service a week from that day; that a house had been secured
for him in the eastern part of the settlement, and that as he was a
minister, he was, of course, a good man, and without question of use to
the church, else the Lord would not permit him to preach. This was all
he knew, or all he cared to tell, and the people went home to wonder and
to talk about it.
* * * * *
Rev. Goode Shepherd came West, I am of the opinion, because the East was
crowded with good men, and because he had heard there was a scarcity of
such in our direction. Although he had some vague ideas on the subject
of growing up with the country, he probably consented to come because
somebody recommended it, and not because he was exactly clear himself
how the move was to be of benefit.
Had some one in whose judgment he had equal confidence suggested after
his arrival that he had better go back again, I have no doubt that he
would have become convinced finally that the Lord had said it, instead
of a friend, and quietly returned to the place from which he had come;
for he was always uncertain whether his convictions were the result of
inspiration, or whether they were the result of the gossip he had heard.
I had remarked of my father’s religion that it was a yoke that did not
fit him, and which was uncomfortable to wear; but the Rev. Goode
Shepherd’s religion was his vocation and pleasure, and he believed in it
with all the strength of which he was capable. That he was poor was
evidence to him that he was accepted of the Master who had sent him,
rather than that his life had been a failure; and the work expected of
him he performed cheerfully and with enthusiasm. He had no desire to do
anything which was not religious; and the higher walks of his
profession, and heaven finally as his reward, were all he desired or
expected. There was abundant scope in theology for his ambition, and,
far from craving an active business life, he rather chose his profession
because it offered excuse for knowing so little about the affairs of
men.
I have thought that because he took pleasure in his religion, and loved
it, was one reason why it was not so hard and unforgiving as my
father’s, for on this question there was nothing in common between them
except that both believed that there is a heaven, and that it is
desirable to be saved. The Rev. Goode Shepherd believed that learning
and luxury could go hand in hand with religion; my father, that luxury
was an invention of the Devil to make men forget, and that learning
could be trusted to only a very few, because, unless coupled with the
most pronounced piety, it was very dangerous. The Rev. Goode Shepherd
believed that a religious life was most easily lived, and that a
merciful Providence had ordered it that way because the children of men
are weak; my father, that the easy road to travel was the broad one
which led to torment, and that the other was narrow and difficult, but
ending very pleasantly as a recompense for travelling it, and that it
was ordered that way so that only the brave and deserving should win the
prize, ridding the righteous of the weak and the undeserving by burning
them up. The Rev. Goode Shepherd believed that while walking the golden
streets of the heavenly city he would meet many of the friends he had
worried about, saved by love infinitely greater than he expected; my
father, that he would miss many faces in Paradise he had half expected
to see, but who had fallen exhausted by the wayside and given up the
struggle.
The new dispensation did much for Fairview, and its advancement after
the coming of Mr. Shepherd was certainly more rapid than it had ever
been before.
I never knew, but it seems probable to me now, that Mr. Shepherd was
educated for the ministry because he was quiet and religious as a boy,
and had always led a blameless and exemplary life. I think his expenses
at school were paid by relatives none too well off themselves, and that
he went directly from college to the pulpit. I don’t know what made me
think it, but I always believed a widowed mother--aided, perhaps, by an
older sister or two engaged in teaching--had provided for his education
by the closest economy; that he had always intended to become famous to
repay them for their kindness, but finding it a harder task than he had
imagined, that he had, in later life, settled down to the conviction
that to be good is better than to be great.
When his tall form and pale face appeared above the pulpit at Fairview
for the first time, the impression was general among the people that he
was older than they expected. The one child he had written he was
possessed of turned out to be a pretty girl of nineteen or twenty, who
attracted a great deal of attention as she came in with her mother and
sat down near the pulpit. Both sat throughout the service without
looking around, perhaps because they thought it was not likely they
would see much if they should commit that impropriety. His first
preaching impressed everyone favorably, though his side whiskers were
against him, as was also the tall hat standing on the pulpit beside him.
His presence, however, chilled the usual experience meeting following,
for only the men talked, and it was short and dull. The. Meek’s laugh
was not heard at all, and Brother Winter sat quietly in his corner, as
though undecided whether, under the circumstances, he would be warranted
in pushing to the front. The miller’s sister had nothing to say either,
spending her time in watching the minister’s wife and daughter, who did
not recognize the impertinence, and altogether the occasion was not what
was expected.
When the meeting was dismissed, my father stepped forward to welcome Mr.
Shepherd to Fairview. After him came The. Meek, and so, one by one, the
people advanced to be introduced, and, after awkwardly shaking him by
the hand, retired again. Mr. Shepherd led my father back to where his
respectable wife and pretty daughter were, and performed the ceremony of
introduction, and I imagined as my father looked at them that he thought
they were birds of too fine plumage for that clime, and would soon fly
away again. The. Meek stood immediately behind him, and was next
presented, and then came all the congregation in the order of their
importance, except the younger ones, who stood near the door looking on,
and who crowded out hurriedly when Mr. Shepherd came toward them,
followed by his wife and daughter. Although they desired acquaintance
with the new minister and his family above all other things, they were
so awkward and uncertain in their politeness that they hoped the new
minister would somehow gradually become acquainted with them without an
introduction, and never discover that they did not know how to be
comfortable in the presence of strangers. Jo Erring was among the number
of the intimidated, and I thought he was anxious that the new people
should not see him until he had gone home and smartened himself up, as
if they were of more importance than he had expected, for he kept
himself behind the others. Jo had a habit of appearing on Sunday in his
every-day attire--because everybody else wore their best on that day, it
was said--and this was one of the days he violated the custom of the
country, probably for the reason that the occasion was an extraordinary
one.
It was my father’s custom to invite the ministers who came to Fairview
to spend the day at our house, that they might be convenient for the
evening service; and although he hesitated a long while in this case, as
if afraid the accommodations he could offer were not good enough, he
hurriedly consulted with my mother at the last moment, and walked out to
the gate, when they were preparing to start for home. I could not hear
from where I stood what was said, but I believed the invitation had been
given and accepted, and when he began to look around the yard, I was so
certain that I was wanted to drive them home that I put myself in his
way, as the wagon road led through lanes and gates, and could not be
easily described. My mother had already hurried home by the path through
the field, that she might be there to meet them. When I went up to the
wagon in response to my father’s beckon, he lifted me into the seat
beside Mr. Shepherd, his wife and daughter occupying the back one, and
said I would show the way and open the gates.
As we drove off I felt that the bright eyes of the girl were devouring
my plain coat, for she sat directly behind me, and I regretted I had not
thought to ask Jo to trim my hair that morning. The grease on my rough
boots contrasted sharply with the polish of Mr. Shepherd’s patent
leathers, and my great red hands were larger than his, which were very
white, and shaped like a woman’s. I soon saw he was a poor driver, and
asked him to give me the reins, which he willingly did, with a
good-natured apology for his incapacity, pleading lack of experience in
that direction.
I knew they wanted to talk of Fairview and its people, but were shy of
me, so I pretended to be busy in looking after the horses, but they said
nothing except that there was a great number present, which was true, as
the house was full. I pointed out the houses as we went along, and tried
to be entertaining.
“Old Lee lives there,” I said, as we passed the house of the renter on
our farm. “He wasn’t at church to-day; he has probably gone over to the
turkey roost in Bill’s Creek bottom.”
I had said it to shock them, but they laughed very gayly over it, and
the girl--I had heard them call her Mateel--said she presumed that wild
turkeys were plentiful. I had secretly been longing to look at her, so I
turned partly around, and replied that the woods were full of them. She
was a very pretty girl, dressed more expensively than I had ever seen
Agnes dressed, but not with so much taste. She was rather pale, too, and
I could not help thinking that her health was not very good.
“There’re deer here, too,” I said to them, finding that the subject
promised to be amusing.
Mr. Shepherd and the girl looked very much interested, but the
minister’s wife was so stately and dignified that I felt sure I could
never be comfortable in her presence.
“One came running through our field once when Jo and I were ploughing,”
I continued. “The folks were away at camp-meeting, and Jo took the gun
and went after it. I heard him shoot after a long while, and then he
came back, and said it was too heavy for him to carry home, but that if
I would finish the land on which we were ploughing, while he rested, we
would hitch to the wagon and go after it. I felt so pleased about it
that I finished the work, and when I was through, he looked at the sun,
and said we might as well eat supper before starting, and that I had
better take the harness off the horses while they were feeding, as they
would be more comfortable. At supper he asked me if under the
circumstances I didn’t feel it a duty to give him my pie, which I did,
and after he had eaten it, he took me to one side, and said that though
he was ashamed of it himself, he was compelled to confess that he had
missed.”
This amused them more than ever, and the girl asked who Jo was. This
reminded me that I had neglected my friend, and I immediately gave a
short and glowing history of him, not failing to mention that he knew
of more turkey roosts than old Lee, and that we would visit one of them
soon, and return by their house with a fat turkey. They thanked me, and
Mr. Shepherd even said he would like to go with us, whereupon I
explained the process of killing them on moonlight nights, which was by
getting them between your gun and the moon, where they could be easily
seen.
I should no doubt have told them other things equally ridiculous, but by
this time we had reached the gates, and soon thereafter we stopped at
the house, where my father came out and took them in. When Jo appeared
to help me with the horses, I found that he was smartly dressed, and
rightly concluded that he had hurried home to change after seeing the
family at the church.
While we were at the stables he asked me a great many questions about
the girl, and I pleased him by saying that I had talked so much about
him on the way over that she had asked me who he was, and that I had
replied he was my uncle, and the principal young man in Fairview.
“What did she say then?” he asked eagerly.
“That she desired to make your acquaintance, and that she was certain
she had picked you out in church.”
It was a dreadful lie, but I did not regret it, seeing how well he was
pleased.
“Then what did you say?” he asked.
I was not certain what would please him most, so I replied that the
conversation then became general, and that Mr. Shepherd had said he
would go with us some night to the turkey roost in Bill’s Creek bottom.
When we returned to the house, the three were sitting alone in the best
room, looking idly at the books scattered about, and the few ornaments
my mother had found time to prepare. As I sat down on the sill of the
open door with a view of being handy in case I was wanted, I regretted
that Agnes was not there to entertain them, for she had gone home a few
weeks before, and I was certain they would have been surprised to find
such a bright girl in that dull country.
“Ha!” Mr. Shepherd said, when he saw me. “The young man that drove us
over. I suppose you know a great deal about horses?”
I thought he made the last remark as an apology that he had not attended
to his team himself, so I replied that I knew something about them, but
I was sorry he had chosen that subject, as it was not likely to interest
his daughter, whom I was anxious to talk with.
“I am sorry to say I know very little about horses,” he said, “but I
intend to learn. I bought mine at the station where we left the
railroad. What do you think of them?”
With a view of bringing Jo into the conversation again, I said I would
go and ask his opinion, as he was a very good judge. I returned
presently, and said Jo thought they would do very well. As if
remembering Jo as a very amusing person I had been telling them about,
he said:--
“Bring the young man in. I should like to talk with him.”
I went out after Jo, but did not go far, as he had slipped up near the
door, which stood open, to listen to what was being said. He was very
red in the face, but followed me in.
“This is your uncle Jo, is it?” Mr. Shepherd inquired, after I had sat
down again, leaving Jo standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, having a vague notion I ought to introduce
them, but not knowing how to go about it. “My uncle Jo Erring. He lives
here.”
Mr. Shepherd advanced toward him pleasantly, and I thought he reached
him just in time to keep him from falling down with fright.
“I am very glad to know you, Mr. Erring,” he said, in his easy way,
taking him by the hand. “This is my wife, and this my daughter,”
pointing to one, and then to the other, while shaking his hand. “I have
no doubt we shall become famous friends.”
Jo raised his eyes to recognize the introduction, and he said to me
afterwards that he was just getting ready to bolt out of the room, and
run away, when somehow they made it pleasant for him to stay.
My uncle was a very intelligent fellow, and he soon became quite
entertaining, giving them accounts of the country and the people which
were no doubt very droll, for when I went out presently I heard them
laughing merrily at what he said. At dinner Mr. Shepherd observed that
since becoming acquainted with Mr. Erring he felt like an old citizen,
whereupon my father looked up hurriedly and was about to ask who that
was, when he suddenly remembered, and muttered, “Oh! you mean Jo.”
It was sometimes the case that when there was company Jo and I were
compelled to wait at dinner, but I was glad that on this day Jo was
seated next Mateel, and did not suffer the humiliation. A sort of rude
politeness was natural to him, and on this occasion he displayed it to
such advantage that I glowed with pride. While the others were talking
of graver matters he gave an account of the Fairview revivals, which
amused Mateel so much that she asked to be excused for laughing. I had
never seen two persons get along better together, and I felt certain
that she would regard him as a very intelligent young man, which pleased
me, for nobody else seemed to do him justice, and they all tried to
humiliate and disgrace him whenever it was possible.
It was a very good dinner to which we sat down, and the Shepherds
complimented it so gracefully that my mother was greatly pleased;
indeed, they found it convenient to make themselves agreeable to all of
us, so that the afternoon was passed very pleasantly, more so than any
other Sunday afternoon ever passed in that house; for my father seemed
to think that if Mr. Shepherd, with all his learning, could afford to
throw aside his Sunday gloom, he would risk it. I had never seen him in
so good a humor before, but I knew he would make up for it the next day;
for whenever he was good-natured he was always particularly gloomy for a
long time after it, as though he had committed an indiscretion of which
he was ashamed.
Before night it had been arranged that Jo should drive the Shepherds
home after the service, as it would be very dark, tying a horse behind
the wagon on which to ride back; and it followed that he drove them to
the church. When we arrived there the building was crowded to its utmost
capacity; the new minister was a success.