"Is there a good fire in the little spare room Jane?" said Mr. Wade,
a plain country farmer, coming into the kitchen where his good wife
was busy preparing for supper.
"Oh, yes, I've made the room as comfortable as can be," replied Mrs.
Wade; "but I wish you would take up a good armful of wood now, so
that we wont have to disturb Mr. N--, by going into the room after
he gets here."
"If he should come this evening," remarked the husband. "But it is
getting late, and I am afraid he won't be here Before the morning."
"Oh, I guess he will be along soon. I have felt all day as if he
were coming."
"They say he is a good man, and preaches most powerfully. Mr. Jones
heard him preach in New York at the last conference, and tells me he
never heard such a sermon as he gave them. It cut right and left,
and his words went home to every heart like arrows of conviction."
"I hope he will be here this evening," remarked the wife as she put
some cakes in the oven.
"And so do I." remarked Mr. Wade, as he turned away, and went out to
the wood pile for an armfull of wood for the expected minister's
room.
It was Saturday afternoon, and nearly sundown. Mr. N--, who was
expected to arrive, and for whose comfort every preparation in their
power to make, had been completed by the family at whose house he
was to stay, was the new Presiding Elder of B--District, in the
New Jersey Conference. Quarterly meeting was to be held on the next
day, which was Sunday, when Mr. N--was to preach, and administer
the ordinances of the church. Being his first visit to that part of
the District, the preacher was known to but few, if any, of the
members, and they all looked forward to his arrival with interest,
and were prepared to welcome him with respect and affection.
The house of Mr. Wade was known as the 'minister's home.' For years,
in their movements through the circuit, the preachers, as they came
round to this part in the field of their appointed labor, were
welcomed by Brother and Sister Wade, and the little spare chamber
made comfort. able for their reception. It was felt by these
honest-hearted people, more a privilege than a duty, thus to share
their temporal blessings with the men of God who ministered to them
in holy things. They had their weaknesses, as we all have. One of
their weaknesses consisted in a firm belief that they were deeply
imbued with the genuine religion, and regarded things spiritual
above all worldly considerations. They were kind, good people,
certainly, but not as deeply read in the lore of their own hearts,
not as familiar with the secret springs of their own actions, as all
of us should desire to be. But this was hardly to be wondered at,
seeing that their position in the church was rather elevated as
compared with those around them, and they were the subjects of
little distinguishing marks flattering to the natural man.
While Mr. Wade was splitting a log at the wood-pile, his thoughts on
the new Presiding Elder, and his feelings warm with the anticipated
pleasure of meeting and entertaining him, a man of common appearance
approached along the road, and when he came to where the farmer was,
stood still and looked at him until he had finished cutting the log,
and was preparing to lift the cleft pieces in his arms.
"Rather a cold day this," said the man.
"Yes, rather," returned Mr. Wade, a little indifferently, and in a
voice meant to repulse the stranger, whose appearance did not
impress him very favorably.
"How far is it to D--?" inquired the man.
"Three miles," replied Mr. Wade, who having filled his arms with
wood, was beginning to move off towards the house.
"So far!" said the man in a tone that was slightly marked with
hesitation. "I thought it was but a little way from this." Then with
an air of hesitation, and speaking in a respectful voice, he added,
"I would feel obliged if you would let me go in and warm myself. I
have walked for two miles in the cold, an--as D--is still three
miles off, I shall be chilled through before I get there."
So modest and natural a request as this, Mr. Wade could not refuse,
and yet, in the way he said--"Oh, certainly"--there was a manner
that clearly betrayed his wish that the man had passed on and
preferred his request somewhere else. Whether this was noticed or
not, is of no consequence; the wayfarer on this assent to his
request, followed Mr. Wade into the house.
"Jane," said the farmer as he entered the house with the stranger,
and his voice was not as cordial as it might have been; "let this
man warm himself by the kitchen fire. He has to go all the way to
D--this evening and says he is cold."
There is a kind of magnetic intelligence in the tones of the voice.
Mrs. Wade understood perfectly, by the way in which this was said,
that the husband did not feel much sympathy for the stranger, and
only yielded the favor asked because he could not well refuse to
grant it. Her own observation did not correct the impression her
husband's manner had produced. The man's dress, though neither dirty
nor ragged, was not calculated to impress any one very favorably.
His hat was much worn, and the old gray coat in which he was
buttoned up to the chin, had seen so much service that it was
literally threadbare from collar to skirt, and showed numerous
patches, darns, and other evidences of needlework, applied long
since to its original manufacture. His cow-hide boots, though whole,
had a coarse look; and his long dark beard gave his face, not a very
prepossessing one at best, a no very attractive aspect.
"You can sit down there," said Mrs. Wade, a little ungraciously, for
she felt the presence of the man, just at that particular juncture,
as an intrusion; and she pointed to an old chair that stood. near
the fire-place, in front of which was a large Dutch oven containing
some of her best cream short cakes, prepared especially for Mr.
N--, the new Presiding Elder now momently expected.
"Thank you, Ma'am," returned the stranger, as he took the chair, and
drew close up to the blazing hearth, and removing his thick woolen
gloves, spread his hands to receive the genial warmth.
Nothing more was said by either the stranger or Mr. Wade, for the
space of three or four minutes. During this time, the good
house-wife passed in and out, once or twice, busy as could be in
looking after supper affairs. The lid of the ample Dutch oven had
been raised once or twice, and both the eyes and nose of the
traveller greeted with a pleasant token of the good fare soon to be
served up in the family. He was no longer cold; but the sight and
smell of the cakes and other good things in preparation by the lady,
awakened a sense of hunger, and made it keenly felt. But, as the
comfort of a little warmth had been bestowed so reluctantly, he
could not think of trespassing on the farmer and his wife for a bite
of supper, and so commenced drawing on his heavy woolen gloves, and
buttoning up his old gray coat. While occupied in doing this, Mr.
Wade came into the kitchen, and said--
"I'm afraid Jane, that the minister won't be along this evening.
It's after sun-down, and begins to grow duskish."
"He ought to have been here an hour ago," returned Mrs. W., in a
tone of disappointment.
"It's getting late, my friend, and D--'s a good distance ahead,"
remarked the farmer, after standing with his back to the fire, and
regarding for some moments the stranger, who had taken off his
gloves, and was slowly unbuttoning his coat again.
"It's three miles you say?"
"Yes, good three miles, if not more; and it will be dark in half an
hour."
"What direction must I take?" required the stranger.
"You keep along the road until you come to the meeting house on the
top of the hill, half a mile beyond this, and then you strike off to
the right, and keep straight on."
"What meeting house is it?"
"The D--Methodist Meeting House."
"You are expecting the minister, I think you just now said?"
"Yes. Mr. N--, our new Presiding Elder, is to preach to-morrow,
and he was to have been here this afternoon."
"He is to stay with you?"
"Certainly he is. The ministers all stay at my house."
The man got up, and went to the door and looked out.
"Couldn't you give me a little something to eat before I go," he
said, returning. "I havn't tasted food since this morning, and feel
a little faint."
"Jane, can't you give him some cold meat and bread?" Mr. Wade turned
to his wife, and she answered, just a little fretfully, "Oh, yes, I
suppose so;" and going to the cupboard, brought out a dish
containing a piece of cold fat bacon that had been boiled with
cabbage for dinner, and half a loaf of bread, which she placed on
the kitchen table and told the man to help himself. The stranger did
not wait for another invitation; but set to work in good earnest
upon the bread and bacon, while the farmer stood with his hands
behind him, and his back to the fire, whistling the air of "Auld
Lang Syne," while he mentally repeated the words of the hymn of
"When I can read my title clear," and wished that his visitor would
make haste and get through with his supper. The latter, after eating
for a short time with the air of a man whose appetite was keen,
began to discuss the meat and bread with more deliberation, and
occasionally to ask a question, or make a remark, the replies to
which were not very gracious, although Mr. Wade forced himself to be
as polite as he could be.
The homely meal at length concluded, the man buttoned up his old
coat and drew on his coarse woolen gloves again, and thanking Mr.
and Mrs. Wade for their hospitality, opened the door and looked out.
It was quite dark, for there was no moon, and the sky was veiled in
clouds. The wind rushed into his face, cold and piercing. For a
moment or two, he stood with his hand upon the door, and then
closing it he turned back into the house, and said to the farmer
"You say it is still three miles to D--?"
"I do," said Mr. Wade coldly.
"I said so to you when you first stopped, and you ought to have
pushed on like a prudent man. You could have reached there before it
was quite dark."
"But I was cold and hungry, and might have fainted by the way."
The manner of saying this touched the farmer's feelings a little,
and caused him to look more narrowly into the stranger's face than
he had yet done. But he saw nothing more than he had already seen.
"You have warmed and fed me, for which I am thankful. Will you not
bestow another act of kindness upon one who is in a strange place,
and if he goes out in the darkness may lose himself and perish in
the cold?"
The peculiar form in which this request was made, and the tone in
which it was uttered, put it almost out of the power of the farmer
to say no.
"Go in there and sit down," he (sic) answed, pointing to the
kitchen, "and I will see my wife, and hear what she has to say."
And Mr. Wade went into the parlor where the supper table stood,
covered with a snow-white cloth, and displaying his wife's set of
bluesprigged china, that was only brought out on special occasions.
Two tall mould candles were burning thereon, and on the hearth
blazed a cheerful hickory fire.
"Hasn't that old fellow gone yet?" asked Mrs. Wade. She had heard
his voice as he returned from the door.
"No. And what do you suppose? He wants us to let him stay all
night."
"Indeed, and we'll do no such thing! We can't have the likes of him
in the house, no how. Where could he sleep?"
"Not in the best room, even if Mr. N--shouldn't come."
"No, indeed!"
"But I really don't see, Jane how we can turn him out of doors. He
doesn't look like a very strong man, and it's dark and cold, and
full three miles to D--."
"It's too much! He ought to have gone on while he had daylight, and
not lingered here as he did until it got dark."
"We can't turn him out of doors, Jane; and it's no use to think of
it. He'll have to stay now."
"But what can we do with him?"
"He seems like a decent man, at least; and don't look as if he had
anything bad about him. We might make him a bed on the floor
somewhere."
"I wish he had been to Guinea before he came here," said Mrs. Wade,
fretfully. The disappointment, the conviction that Mr. N--would
not arrive, and the intrusion of so unwelcome a visitor as the
stranger, completely unhinged her mind.
"Oh, well, Jane," replied her husband in a soothing voice, "never
mind. We must make the best of it. Poor man! He came to us tired and
hungry, and we have warmed him and fed him. He now asks shelter for
the night, and we must not refuse him, nor grant his request in a
complaining reluctant spirit. You know what the Bible says about
entertaining angels unawares."
"Angels! Did you ever see an angel look like him?"
"Having never seen an angel," said the husband smiling, "I am unable
to speak as to their appearance."
This had the effect to call an answering smile to the face of Mrs.
Wade, and a better feeling to her heart. And it was finally agreed
between them, that the man, as he seemed like a decent kind of a
person, should be permitted to occupy the minister's room, if that
individual did not arrive, an event to which they both now looked
with but small expectancy. If he did come, why the man would have
put up with poorer accommodations.
When Mr. Wade returned to the kitchen where the stranger had seated
himself before the fire, he informed him, that they had decided to
let him stay all night. The man expressed in a few words his
grateful sense of their kindness, and then became silent and
thoughtful. Soon after, the farmer's wife, giving up all hopes of
Mr. N--'s arrival, had supper taken up, which consisted of coffee,
warm cream short cakes, and sweet cakes, broiled ham, and broiled
chicken. After all was on the table, a short conference was held, as
to whether it would do not to invite the stranger to take supper. It
was true, they had given him as much bread and bacon as he could
eat; but then, as long as he was going to stay all night, it looked
too inhospitable to sit down to the table and not ask him to join
them. So, making a virtue of necessity, he was kindly asked to come
in to supper, an invitation which he did not decline. Grace was said
over the meal by Mr. Wade, and then the coffee was poured out, the
bread helped, and the meat served.
There was a fine little boy of some five or six years old at the
table, who had been brightened up, and dressed in his best, in order
to grace the minister's reception. Charley was full of talk, and the
parents felt a natural pride in showing him off, even before their
humble guest, who noticed him particularly, although he had not much
to say.
"Come, Charley," said Mr. Wade, after the meal was over, and he sat
leaning back in his chair, "can't you repeat the pretty hymn mamma
learned you last Sunday?"
Charley started off, without further invitation, and repeated, very
accurately, two or three verses of a new camp-meeting hymn, that was
just then very popular.
"Now let us hear you say the Commandments, Charley," spoke up the
mother, well pleased at her child's performance. And Charley
repeated them with only the aid of a little prompting.
"How many commandments are there?" asked the father.
The child hesitated, and then looking up at the stranger, near whom
he sat, said, innocently,--
"How many are there?"