It will be no contravention of the truth of this epitaph, to say that
the Major had been always a most miserable manager of his private
business affairs; it is even doubtful if the kindest fathers and best
husbands are not apt to be. Certain it is, that, when Benjamin came to
examine, in connection with a village attorney, (for the son had
inherited the father's inaccessibility to "profit and loss" statements,)
such loose accounts as the Major had left, it was found that the poor
gentleman had lived up so closely to his income--whether as lawyer or
military chieftain--as to leave his little home property subject to the
payment of a good many outstanding debts. There appeared, indeed, a
great parade of ledgers and day-books and statements of accounts; but it
is by no means unusual for those who are careless or ignorant of
business system to make a pretty show of the requisite implements, and
to confuse themselves, in a pleasant way, with the intricacy of their
own figures.
The Major sinned pretty largely in this way; so that it was plain, that,
after the sale of all his available effects, including the library with
its inhibited Voltaire, there would remain only enough to secure a
respectable maintenance for Miss Eliza. To this end, Benjamin determined
at once that the residue of the estate should be settled upon
her,--reserving only so much as would comfortably maintain him during a
three years' course of battling with Theology.
The younger sister, Mabel,--as has already been intimated,--was provided
for by an interest in certain distinct and dividend-bearing securities,
which--to the honor of the Major--had never been submitted to the
alembic of his figures and "accounts current." She was placed at a
school where she accomplished herself for three or four years; and put
the seal to her accomplishments by marrying very suddenly, and without
family consultation,--under which she usually proved restive,--a young
fellow, who by aid of her snug fortune succeeded in establishing himself
in a thriving business; and as early as the year 1820, Mabel, under her
new name of Mrs. Brindlock, was the mistress of one of those fine
merchant-palaces at the lower end of Greenwich Street in New York City,
which commanded a view of the elegant Battery, and were the admiration
of all country visitors.
Benjamin had needed only his father's hint, (for which he was ever
grateful,) and the solemn scenes of his death and burial, to lead him to
an entire renunciation of his law-craft and to an engagement in fervid
study for the ministry. This he prosecuted at first with a devout old
gentleman who had been a pupil of President Edwards; and this private
reading was finished off by a course at Andover. His studies completed,
he was licensed to preach; and not long after, without any consideration
of what the future of this world might have in store for him, he
committed the error which so many grave and serious men are prone to
commit,--that is to say, he married hastily, after only two or three
months of solemn courtship, a charming girl of nineteen, whose only idea
of meeting the difficulties of this life was to love her dear Benjamin
with her whole heart, and to keep the parlor dusted.
But unfortunately there was no parlor to dust The consequence was that
the newly married couple were compelled to establish a temporary home
upon the second floor of the comfortable house of Mr. Handby, a
well-to-do farmer, and the father of the bride. Here the new clergyman
devoted himself resolutely to Tillotson, to Edwards, to John Newton, and
in the intervals prepared some score or more of sermons,--to all which
Mrs. Johns devoutly listening in their fresh state, without ever a wink,
entered upon the conscientious duties of a wife. From time to time some
old clergyman of the neighborhood would ask the Major's son to assist
him in the Sabbath services; and at rarer intervals the Reverend Mr.
Johns was invited to some far-away township where the illness or absence
of the settled minister might keep the new licentiate for four or five
weeks; on which occasions the late Miss Handby was most zealous in
preparing a world of comforts for the journey, and invariably followed
him up with one or two double letters, "hoping her dear Benjamin was
careful to wear the muffler which his Rachel had knit for him, and not
to expose his precious throat,"--or "longing for that quiet home of
_their own_, which would not make necessary these _cruel separations_,
and where she should have the uninterrupted society of her dear
Benjamin."
To all such the conscientious husband dutifully replied, "thankful for
his Rachel's expression of interest in such a sinner as himself, and
trusting that she would not forget that health or the comforts of this
world were but of comparatively small importance, since this was 'not
our abiding city.' He trusted, too, that she would not allow the
transitory affections of this life, _however dear they might be_, to
engross her to the neglect of those which were _far more_ important. He
permitted himself to hope that Rachel" (he was chary of endearing
epithets) "would not murmur against the dispensations of Providence, and
would be content with whatever He might provide; and hoping that Mr.
Handby and family were in their usual health, remained her Christian
friend and devoted husband, Benjamin Johns."
It so happened, that, after this discursive life had lasted for some ten
months, a serious difficulty arose between the clergyman and the parish
of the neighboring town of Ashfield. The person who served as the
spiritual director of the people was suspected of leaning strongly
toward some current heresy of the day; and the suspicion being once set
on foot, there was not a sermon the poor man could preach but some
quidnunc of the parish snuffed somewhere in it the taint of the false
doctrine. The due convocations and committees of inquiry followed
sharply after, and the incumbent received his dismissal in due form at
the hands of some "brother in the bonds of the Gospel."
A few weeks later, Giles Elderkin of Ashfield, "Society's Committee,"
invited, by letter, the Reverend Benjamin Johns to come and "fill their
pulpit the following Lord's day"; and added,--"If you conclude to preach
for us, I shall be pleased to have you put up at my house over the
Sabbath."
"There you are," said Mr. Handby, when the matter was announced in
family conclave,--"just the man for them. They like sober, solid
preaching in Ashfield."
"I call it real providential," said Mrs. Handby; "fust-rate folks, and
't a'n't a long drive over for Rachel."
Little Mrs. Johns looked upon the grave, earnest face of her husband
with delight and pride, but said nothing.
"I know Squire Elderkin," says Mr. Handby, meditatively,--"a clever man,
and a forehanded man, very. It's a rich parish, son-in-law; they ought
to do well by you."
"I don't like," says Mr. Johns, "to look at what may become my spiritual
duty in that light."
"I wouldn't," returned Mr. Handby; "but when you are as old as I am,
son-in-law, you'll know that we have to keep a kind of side-look upon
the good things of this world,--else we shouldn't be placed in it."
"_He_ heareth the young ravens when they cry," said the minister,
gravely.
"Just it," says Mr. Handby; "but I don't want your young ravens to be
crying."
At which Rachel, with the slightest possible suffusion of color, and a
pretty affectation of horror, said,--
"Now, papa!"
There was an interuption here, and the conclave broke up; but Rachel,
stepping briskly to the place she loved so well, beside the minister,
said, softly,--
"I hope you'll go, Benjamin; and do, please, preach that beautiful
sermon on Revelations."