THE MISSIONARY'S RETROSPECT.
Though Philip St. Leger would have done, in almost all things, as Mary
Selby directed, upon one certain point he was inflexible. This was upon
the subject of immersion; he would not go down into the waters of Lake
Sunapee, following the custom of the Newbergians.
During his boyhood his mother had been a member of the Presbyterian
society; latterly, for some good reason or other, she had made a move
into the Episcopal; whether through whim for popularity, or for
conscience' sake was best known to herself. Her puritanical cousin, Mrs.
Col. Selby, and a very worthy woman she was, regarded Mrs. St. Leger as
a heretic, and looked upon the troubles with her children as a just
punishment for having left the Church of her fathers. She had herself,
however, meantime made very considerable concessions to her own
religious convictions. For, while stoutly believing in sprinkling, in
infant baptism, in open communion, and in each and every tenet of
Presbyterianism, she had actually been received into the Calvinistic
Baptist Church! What an unheard-of thing! It created no little talk
among the good people of Newberg, and more for this reason: Mrs. Job
Manning, a farmer's wife, who dutifully assisted her husband in earning
a frugal living on the rocky sides of King's Hill, having been a
Congregationalist, had been refused years previously, admittance to this
same Church. She was poor, had a family of young children, had no way of
traveling thirty miles to her own nearest meeting-house, and had humbly
begged, with her husband, who was already a good Baptist, to be received
into the Church. Failing this, since she could not consent to immersion,
and shrank from the doctrine of close communion, she, or rather her
husband, demanded that she might be allowed to partake occasionally of
the Lord's Supper.
Rev. Mr. Savage, and the dignified Deacon Gould, and his equally
dignified colleague, Deacon Drake, gazed very solemnly down upon the
communion table, pursing up their mouths most decidedly, as if a
sacrilege had already been committed by so astounding a proposition. Of
course the duty fell upon Mr. Savage, the minister, to declare before
all present that the demand of brother Manning, in behalf of his wife,
was unreasonable, incomprehensible, and un-Christian.
Was Mrs. Manning a Christian? Then let her be baptized in a Christian
manner, and thereby show herself worthy to eat the bread and drink the
wine. Until such time there could be no admittance.
The two solemn-looking deacons on either side of the dogmatic speaker
raised approvingly their eyes, and after balancing themselves a moment
upon their toes, settled back upon their heels as grave and decorous as
before.
Brother Job Manning arose hastily, and said:
"My wife, Nancy Manning, is as good a Christian woman as the town of
Newberg holds. I eat with her at home, thank God, and if she ain't good
enough to eat with me at the table of the Lord, then I ain't good enough
neither, and you can have it all to yourselves."
And Job Manning, somewhat angry, it must be confessed, strode out from
the assembled body of Christians, up to his pew in the side aisle, and
plucking his wife by the sleeve, who arose and followed him, marched out
of the Baptist church for good and all.
But in the case of Mrs. Colonel Selby it was altogether different. She
was a woman of wealth and influence. She could do so very much for the
Baptist church, it would never do to offend her. And the Colonel was so
devoted to her, he might go off in a huff as poor Job Manning had done,
and stand it out to the bitter end. It was a dilemma, no disputing about
that. A bad precedent, more particularly after the precedent in the
Manning case. But it _must_ be got along with, and it _was_, and Mrs.
Colonel Selby, a strict and ultra Presbyterian, always open and
outspoken, became an honored member of this closely-guarded Baptist
fold. What was to hinder? Who was to say, why do you so? No bishop with
his interdict, no Pope with his "thunders from the Vatican." Here was
one of the beauties of the Protestant system.
"System," says Webster, "is an assemblage of things adjusted into a
regular whole, or a whole plan or scheme consisting of many parts
connected in such a manner as to create a chain of mutual dependencies."
It is not at all strange that Protestantism should protest against this
definition, and should establish its own instead: An assemblage of
things so adjusted and built up as that they may easily be rearranged or
completely demolished as occasion may require, or a whole plan or scheme
consisting of many parts so connected as to create a gossamer-thread of
mutual independencies.
Mrs. Selby was too shrewd and sensible not to see the inconsistency
involved. But then she was quite used to inconsistencies. Moreover, she
deemed herself quite in the right, and the Baptist Church had mounted
upon the plane it behooved itself to stand; at all events, it must
answer for its own right and wrong doing, as Mrs. Selby expected to
answer for her own.
Mary Selby sought not to influence Philip in the matter of his baptism.
She saw where his inclination tended and was silent. He accompanied his
mother's cousin to her native city, and was there received into the
First Presbyterian by Mrs. Selby's venerable and beloved friend, Rev.
Mr. Storrs.
Colonel Selby used his influence in infringing upon the college rules of
Dartmouth, and the young man, expelled from one college, was received
into another. So bad use had he made of his former advantages that he
was obliged to go back to the sophomore year; even here he had to study
early and late to maintain his position.
After three years of assiduous diligence, he graduated with honor, when,
for the first time since the day of his disgrace, he visited his
paternal home.
His fashionable mother viewed her handsome, scholarly son, not only
with amazement, but with pride and satisfaction. His three sisters, all
grown into womanhood, the youngest being sixteen, were at first rather
shy of him. They had not forgotten how he used to annoy and vex them.
They early perceived the change, and became distressingly fond of him.
It would be so nice to have an elder brother to go with them everywhere.
And such a brother! so fine-looking, who had an air so distinguished, a
face so poetical and classical! O, wouldn't all the other girls envy
them this splendid brother? They would make a grand party, and exhibit
him at once.
What was their dismay on finding that he absolutely refused to show
himself to the guests! The wealthiest, most learned, most _elite_ of the
city were all in the drawing-rooms, beauty and fashion were in full glow
and flow, music all atremble to stir into life, bright eyes were
flashing expectation, and dainty lips had sweet words waiting to say,
and he would not appear! In vain the mother coaxed, flattered, and got
angry; in vain the sisters pleaded, begged, cried, and insisted. He was
inexorable. But they had made the party on purpose for him!
Why had they not informed him sooner? He could have saved them all the
trouble and disappointment. He could have told them he was no lion, and
would not be paraded. He had not been in society for three years; he was
never again going into society.
This, then, came of going off into the country! Buried alive. Come out
so peerless and beautiful, and all to no purpose! He might just as well
have been a grub!
By great efforts the mother and daughters choked down their wrath and
mortification, bathed their swollen eyes, put on fresh lily white and
carmine, and joined their guests. What should they have for an excuse?
O, a sick headache--sudden and distressful--he was subject to them; poor
Philip!
Later in the evening, Estelle St. Leger led Della Lisle up to her own
room. They were passing through the hall. Opposite her door, Estelle
stooped to lace her slipper, for which purpose she had left the
drawing-room.
"So he has no headache," said Della, "and absents himself only from
aversion to society?"
"That is all," replied Estelle, pettishly. "Isn't he stupid?"
"No, I just begin to think right well of him. I have no respect for some
of those effeminate butterflies down stairs, who say only silly
nothings, because, forsooth, they think we can appreciate nothing
better, or because they have nothing better to offer."
"But I thought you were quite captivated with Edward Damon? You two, for
the last half hour, have seemed to be unconscious that there was aught
else in the world save that one corner that held you."
"Edward Damon is an exception. He is intelligent, unaffected, and
agreeable. He is not all simper and softness. He can talk with one
without being lost in his own self-conceit, fancying you deep in
admiration of his own charming self. Yes, I really like Edward Damon."
The shoe was laced, and the girls passed on, but the voice of Della
Lisle seemed still to linger upon the ears of Philip. His own door
opened upon the hall very near to the waiting girls; he had heard every
word. First, the voice of Della was pleasant and gentle; it powerfully
attracted him; second, her words were not those of an ordinary city
lady.
"A sensible girl, that--Della, Estelle called her; a pretty name. And
Edward Damon is there, it seems, the best fellow I ever knew. Who knows?
Maybe a shoe-string influences my fate. At all events, I am influenced
in a way I may not resist."
And Philip St. Leger, with extraordinary inconsistency, soon appeared
among his mother's guests. There was but one drawback to the joy and
gratification of that mother and the three sisters--his necktie was not
of the very latest style.