MORE VIOLENCE.
Clayton rose the next morning, and found his friends much better than he
had expected after the agitation and abuse of the night before. They
seemed composed and cheerful.
"I am surprised," he said, "to see that your wife is able to be up this
morning."
"They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength," said father
Dickson. "How often I have found it so! We have seen times when I and my
wife have both been so ill that we scarcely thought we had strength to
help ourselves; and a child has been taken ill, or some other emergency
has occurred that called for immediate exertion, and we have been to the
Lord and found strength. Our way has been hedged up many a time--the sea
before us and the Egyptians behind us; but the sea has always opened
when we have stretched our hands to the Lord. I have never sought the
Lord in vain. He has allowed great troubles to come upon us; but he
always delivers us."
Clayton recalled the sneering, faithless, brilliant Frank Russel, and
compared him, in his own mind, with the simple, honest man before him.
"No," he said to himself, "human nature is not a humbug, after all.
There are some real men--some who will not acquiesce in what is
successful, if it be wrong."
Clayton was in need of such living examples; for, in regard to religion,
he was in that position which is occupied by too many young men of high
moral sentiment in this country. What he had seen of the worldly policy
and time-serving spirit of most of the organized bodies professing to
represent the Christian faith and life, had deepened the shadow of doubt
and distrust which persons of strong individuality and discriminating
minds are apt to feel in certain stages of their spiritual development.
Great afflictions--those which tear up the roots of the soul--are often
succeeded, in the course of the man's history, by a period of
scepticism. The fact is, such afflictions are disenchanting powers; they
give to the soul an earnestness and a power of discrimination which no
illusion can withstand. They teach us what we need, what we must have to
rest upon; and, in consequence, thousands of little formalities, and
empty shows, and dry religious conventionalities, are scattered by it
like chaff. The soul rejects them, in her indignant anguish; and,
finding so much that is insincere, and untrue, and unreliable, she has
sometimes hours of doubting all things.
Clayton saw again in the minister what he had seen in Nina--a soul
swayed by an attachment to an invisible person, whose power over it was
the power of a personal attachment, and who swayed it, not by dogmas or
commands, merely, but by the force of a sympathetic emotion. Beholding,
as in a glass, the divine image of his heavenly friend, insensibly to
himself the minister was changing into the same image. The good and the
beautiful to him was an embodied person,--even Jesus his Lord.
"What may be your future course?" said Clayton, with anxiety. "Will you
discontinue your labors is this state?"
"I may do so, if I find positively that there is no gaining a hearing,"
said father Dickson. "I think we owe it to our state not to give up the
point without a trial. There are those who are willing to hear
me--willing to make a beginning with me. It is true they are poor and
unfashionable; but still it is my duty not to desert them till I have
tried, at least, whether the laws can't protect me in the exercise of my
duty. The hearts of all men are in the hands of the Lord. He turneth
them as the rivers of water are turned. This evil is a great and a
trying one. It is gradually lowering the standard of morals in our
churches, till men know not what spirit they are of. I held it my duty
not to yield to the violence of the tyrant, and bind myself to a promise
to leave, till I had considered what the will of my Master would be."
"I should be sorry," said Clayton, "to think that North Carolina
couldn't protect you. I am sure, when the particulars of this are known,
there will be a general reprobation from all parts of the country. You
might remove to some other part of the state, not cursed by the
residence of a man like Tom Gordon. I will confer with my uncle, your
friend Dr. Cushing, and see if some more eligible situation cannot be
found, where you can prosecute your labors. He is at this very time
visiting his wife's father, in E., and I will ride over and talk with
him to-day. Meanwhile," said Clayton, as he rose to depart, "allow me to
leave with you a little contribution to help the cause of religious
freedom in which you are engaged."
And Clayton, as he shook hands with his friend and his wife, left an
amount of money with them such as had not crossed their palms for many a
day. Bidding them adieu, a ride of a few hours carried him to E., where
he communicated to Dr. Cushing the incidents of the night before.
"Why, it's perfectly shocking--abominable!" said Dr. Cushing. "Why, what
are we coming to? My dear young friend, this shows the necessity of
prayer. 'When the enemy cometh in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord
must lift up a standard against him.'"
"My dear uncle," said Clayton, rather impatiently, "it seems to me the
Lord has lifted up a standard in the person of this very man, and people
are too cowardly to rally around it."
"Well, my dear nephew, it strikes me you are rather excited," said Dr.
Cushing, good-naturedly.
"Excited?" said Clayton. "I ought to be excited! You ought to be
excited, too! Here's a good man beginning what you think a necessary
reform, and who does it in a way perfectly peaceable and lawful, who is
cloven down under the hoof of a mob, and all you can think of doing is
to pray to _the Lord_ to raise up a standard! What would you think, if a
man's house were on fire, and he should sit praying the Lord that in his
mysterious providence he would put it out?"
"Oh, the cases are not parallel," said Dr. Cushing.
"I think they are," said Clayton. "Our house is the state, and our house
is on fire by mob law; and, instead of praying the Lord to put it out,
you ought to go to work and put it out yourself. If all your ministers
would make a stand against this, uncle, and do all you can to influence
those to whom you are preaching, it wouldn't be done again."
"I am sure I should be glad to do something. Poor father Dickson! such
a good man as he is! But, then, I think, Clayton, he was rather
imprudent. It don't do, this unadvised way of proceeding. We ought to
watch against rashness, I think. We are too apt to be precipitate, and
not await the leadings of Providence. Poor Dickson! I tried to caution
him, the last time I wrote to him. To be sure, it's no excuse for them;
but, then, I'll write to brother Barker on the subject, and we'll see if
we can't get an article in the _Christian Witness_. I don't think it
would be best to allude to these particular circumstances, or to mention
any names; but there might be a general article on the importance of
maintaining the right of free speech, and of course people can apply it
for themselves."
"You remind me," said Clayton, "of a man who proposed commencing an
attack on a shark by throwing a sponge at him. But, now, really, uncle,
I am concerned for the safety of this good man. Isn't there any church
near you to which he can be called? I heard him at the camp-meeting, and
I think he is an excellent preacher."
"There are a good many churches," said Dr. Cushing, "which would be glad
of him, if it were not for the course he pursues on that subject; and I
really can't feel that he does right to throw away his influence so. He
might be the means of converting souls, if he would only be quiet about
this."
"Be quiet about fashionable sins," said Clayton, "in order to get a
chance to convert souls! What sort of converts are those who are not
willing to hear the truth on every subject? I should doubt conversions
that can only be accomplished by silence on great practical
immoralities."
"But," said Dr. Cushing, "Christ and the apostles didn't preach on the
abuses of slavery, and they alluded to it as an existing institution."
"Nor did they preach on the gladiatorial shows," said Clayton; "and Paul
draws many illustrations from them. Will you take the principle that
everything is to be let alone now about which the apostles didn't preach
directly?"
"I don't want to enter into that discussion now," said Dr. Cushing. "I
believe I'll ride over and see brother Dickson. After all, he is a dear,
good man, and I love him. I'd like to do something for him, if I were
not afraid it might be misunderstood."
Toward evening, however, Clayton, becoming uneasy at the lonely
situation of his clerical friend, resolved to ride over and pass the
night with him, for the sake of protecting him; and, arming himself with
a brace of pistols, he proceeded on his ride. As the day had been warm,
he put off his purpose rather late, and darkness overtook him before he
had quite accomplished his journey.
Riding deliberately through the woodland path in the vicinity of the
swamp, he was startled by hearing the tramp of horses' hoofs behind him.
Three men, mounted on horseback, were coming up, the headmost of whom,
riding up quickly behind, struck him so heavy a blow with a gutta percha
cane, as to fell him to the earth. In an instant, however, he was on his
feet again, and had seized the bridle of his horse.
"Who are you?" said he; for, by the dim light that remained of the
twilight, he could perceive that they all wore masks.
"We are men," said one of them, whose voice Clayton did not recognize,
"that know how to deal with fellows who insult gentlemen, and then
refuse to give them honorable satisfaction."
"And," said the second speaker, "we know how to deal with renegade
abolitionists, who are covertly undermining our institutions."
"And," said Clayton, coolly, "you understand how to be cowards; for none
but cowards would come three to one, and strike a man from behind! Shame
on you! Well, gentlemen, act your pleasure. Your first blow has disabled
my right arm. If you wish my watch and my purse, you may help
yourselves, as cut-throats generally do!"
The stinging contempt which was expressed in these last words seemed to
enrage the third man, who had not spoken. With a brutal oath, he raised
his cane again, and struck at him.
"Strike a wounded man, who cannot help himself--do!" said Clayton. "Show
yourself the coward you are! You are brave in attacking defenceless
women and children, and ministers of the Gospel!"
This time the blow felled Clayton to the earth, and Tom Gordon,
precipitating himself from the saddle, proved his eligibility for
Congress by beating his defenceless acquaintance on the head, after the
fashion of the chivalry of South Carolina. But, at this moment, a
violent blow from an unseen hand struck his right arm, and it fell,
broken, at his side. Mad with pain, he poured forth volumes of oaths,
such as our readers have never heard, and the paper refuses to receive.
And a deep voice said from the woods,--
"Woe to the bloody and deceitful man!"
"Look for the fellow! where is he?" said Tom Gordon.
The crack of a rifle, and a bullet which passed right over his head,
answered from the swamp, and the voice, which he knew was Harry's,
called from within the thicket,--
"Tom Gordon, beware! Remember Hark!" At the same time another rifle-shot
came over their heads.
"Come, come," said the other two, "there's a gang of them. We had better
be off. You can't do anything with that broken arm, there." And, helping
Tom into the saddle, the three rode away precipitately.
As soon as they were gone, Harry and Dred emerged from the thicket. The
latter was reported among his people to have some medical or surgical
skill. He raised Clayton up, and examined him carefully.
"He is not dead," he said.
"What shall we do for him?" Said Harry. "Shall we take him along to the
minister's cabin?"
"No, no," said Dred; "that would only bring the Philistines upon him!"
"It's full three miles to E.," said Harry. "It wouldn't do to risk going
there."
"No, indeed," said Dred. "We must take him to our stronghold of Engedi,
even as Samson bore the gates of Gaza. Our women shall attend him, and
when he is recovered we will set him on his journey."