"Well, ef he did he never teched him fur Ned never winced. Ye know them
church members never take nuthin' to tharselves; no, they jes believe
when the preacher ladles out spiritual feed hits fur sinners on the
outside uf the church. They think they're above suspishun. Ye know the
Pharisee thanked Gawd he wus not like other peepul, 'an he was _jes
awful_. Of course a great many say thet the sermon fit yer kase. Hit's
the best praise ye ever got, hit's better'n a piece in the newspapers.
Thur's a heap uf peepul in this town never knowed ye amounted to enuf to
be preached about. Es long es ye hain't stole nuthin' er caused anybody
misery er shame, yer on the safe side. Yer troubles hain't nuthin', ye
jes think they are. Uncle Tom's got more trouble on his min' now en ye
ever had."
"I'll bet if I ever get out of this trouble, I'll steer clear of it
hereafter," mused Alfred.
"Yes ye will. Let me tell ye, sonny, the minnet ye begin to feel yer
troubles at a end ye'll begin to look fer more en ye wouldn't be wuth
cracklins ef ye didn't. I wouldn't gin four cents fer a man thet didn't
git into truble; hit trys 'em out an' ye ken tell what they're made uf.
Look at all the men ye know who don't know enuf to make truble. What do
they amount to? Why they ain't got enuf grit in 'em to suck alum."
She continued:
"Onct thur wus a new preacher kum to a place to take charge of a church.
A member uf the church called tu pay his respeks an' afore he left he
said, confidential like: 'Parson, ye preach yer first sermon Sunday. Now
I want to tell ye this fer yer own good: We hev a good many members thet
plays ole sledge, ten cents a corner. Thar our best payin' members an' I
wouldn't, ef I wus ye, say anythin' 'bout card playin' in my fust
sermon, they mought think ye wus pussenal.' Another member called. After
talkin' 'bout the weather an' crops a bit, he sed: 'Several uf our best
payin' members sell whiskey wholesale, they're agin dram drinkin' but ef
ye preach agin whiskey right away it mought make 'em mad, so I wouldn't
say anythin' agin whiskey in yer fust sermun nex' Sunday.' The preacher
began to git a little shaky but he thanked the man. A little later
anuther member called. When 'bout tu leave he sed: 'Parson, ye preach
yer fust sermon Sunday; I want ye to start right. We hed a good many
dances through the winter, and our peepul is very fond uf dancin'.
Thur's two ur three big dances to kum off soon. These members thet dance
is all willun workers an' liberal givers; ef ye pitch into dancin' en
frolikin' in yer fust sermon hit's sure to raise a click in the church
thet'll be agin ye. Therefore I wouldn't mention anythin' 'bout dancin'
in my fust sermon ef I wus ye.' Soon another called. After he'd talked a
spell, he kum to the pint: 'Parson, we got some mighty fine hosses an'
most uf 'em belongs to the leadin' members uf yer church an' we has hoss
races an' we bets on 'em, an' ef ye preach 'bout anythin' uf thet kind
in yer fust sermon it'll hurt the hoss bizness an' put some uf the best
members uf the congregashun agin ye.' The preacher raised his hans in
holy horror, as he said: 'I can't preach agin the frivolities of
fashun, dancin' an' sich; I can't preach agin drunkenness; I can't
preach agin gamblin'. Fur heavin's sake, what kin I preach about?' 'I'll
tell ye,' volunteered the caller quickly, 'preach about the Jews, jes
gin 'em hell, thar's only one in town.'"
Lin concluded, "Maybe Uncle Tom figgered the same way on yer kase," and
she roared with laughter as she gave Alfred a playful push.
After the boasting Alfred had indulged in previous to going on tour with
Eli, he could not face his friends. He borrowed five dollars from Lin
and in a careless way, informed the family that the next day he would go
up to Uncle Jake's for a couple of weeks' visit. He packed up his
belongings, bade the family an affectionate good-bye and ran away, like
many another coward has done before and since. He was not in debt to any
extent, it was simply his vanity, a false pride that would not permit
him to face the little world in which he lived. Those who should have
advised him censured; those who had influence for good held aloof. He
went to a big city, to Pittsburg, to seek his fortune among strangers,
return rich, reward all who were kind to him and humble all who had lost
faith in him.
He went aboard the boat bound for Pittsburg. He slept soundly and was
only awakened by the clanging of bells and the blowing of whistles.
Peering out of the stateroom ventilator, his eyes met a sight such as he
had never witnessed before. Fire in long-tongued flashes blazed up a
hundred feet out of blackened chimneys, shadowy demons working over
fiery furnaces, boiling, white hot lava flowed in streams, the air was
filled with smoke and sparks.
Alfred imagined he had died in his sins and was now nearing the place of
eternal torment. He could liken the scene before him to nothing on
earth. It must be Hell, and he felt that the lid had been lifted for his
especial benefit.
There was a rap on his stateroom door and a voice called: "All out for
Pittsburg." Alfred hustled into his clothes and walked out in the cabin,
not desiring to leave the boat until after daylight. He inquired of the
clerk as to how long the boat would remain there. "We leave at eight
o'clock," replied the clerk.
"Eight o'clock what? Morning or night?" asked Alfred.
"Eight o'clock morning," replied the man.
"Why, when does it get daylight in Pittsburg?" inquired the bewildered
boy.