men whip a full-grown steamboat captain?"
"The same way that it whipped a full-grown woolen-mill manager once, I
suppose, old boy," said Macdonald.
"Is that so?" exclaimed the captain, astonishment getting so sudden an
advantage over shame that he turned over and looked his companion in the
face. "Why--how are you, Fred? I feel as if I was just being introduced.
Didn't anybody else help?"
"Yes," said Fred, "a woman; but--you've got a wife, too."
Crayme fell back on his pillow and sighed. "If I could only _think_
about her, Fred! But I can't; whisky's the only thing that comes into my
mind."
"Can't think about her!" exclaimed Fred; "why, are you acquainted with
her yet, I wonder? _I'll_ never forget the evening you were married."
"That _was_ jolly, wasn't it?" said Crayme. "I'll bet such sherry was
never opened west of the Alleghanies before or--"
"_Hang_ your sherry!" roared Fred; "it's your wife that I remember.
_You_ couldn't see her, of course, for you were standing alongside of
her; but the rest of us--well, I wished myself in your place, that's
all."
"Did you, though?" said Crayme, with a smile which seemed rather proud;
"well, I guess old Major Pike did too, for he drank to her about twenty
times that evening. Let's see; she wore a white moire antique, I think
they called it, and it cost twenty-one dollars a dozen, and there was at
least one broken bottle in every--"
"And I made up my mind she was throwing herself away, in marrying a
fellow that would be sure to care more for whisky than he did for her,"
interrupted Fred.
"Ease off, Fred, ease off now; there wasn't any whisky there; I tried to
get some of the old Twin Tulip brand for punch, but--"
"But the devil happened to be asleep, and you got a chance to behave
yourself," said Fred.
Crayme looked appealingly. "Fred," said he, "tell me about her yourself;
I'll take it as a favor."
"Why, she looked like a lot of lilies and roses," said Fred, "except
that you couldn't tell where one left off and the other began. As she
came into the room _I_ felt like getting down on my knees. Old Bayle was
telling me a vile story just then, but the minute _she_ came in he
stopped as if he was shot."
"He wouldn't drink a drop that evening," said Crayme, "and I've puzzled
my wits over that for five years--"
"She looked so proud of _you_" interrupted Fred, with some impatience.
"Did she?" asked Crayme. "Well, I guess I _was_ a good-looking fellow in
those days; I know Pike came up to me once, with a glass in his hand,
and said that he ought to drink to _me_, for I was the finest-looking
groom he'd ever seen. He was so tight, though, that he couldn't hold his
glass steady; and though you know I never had a drop of stingy blood in
me, it _did_ go to my heart to see him spill that gorgeous sherry."
"She looked very proud of _you_," Fred repeated; "but I can't see why,
for I've never seen her do it since."
"You _will_, though, hang you!" exclaimed the captain. "Get out of here!
I can think about her _now_, and I don't want anybody else around. No
rudeness meant, you know, Fred."
Fred Macdonald retired quietly, taking with him the keys of both doors,
and feeling more exhausted than he had been on any Saturday night since
the building of the mill.
FREE SPEECH.
[_The following is quoted, by permission, from Mr. Habberton's volume_,
"THE SCRIPTURE CLUB OF VALLEY REST," _published by_ G.P. Putnam's Sons,
_New York_.]
The members of the Scripture Club did not put off their holy interest
with their Sunday garments, as people of the world do with most things
religious. When the little steamboat _Oakleaf_ started on her Monday
morning trip for the city, the members of the Scripture Club might be
identified by their neglect of the morning papers and their tendency to
gather in small knots and engage in earnest conversation. In a corner
behind the paddle-box, securely screened from wind and sun, sat Mr.
Jodderel and Mr. Primm, the latter adoring with much solemn verbosity
the sacred word, and the former piling text upon text to demonstrate the
final removal of all the righteous to a new state of material existence
in a better-ordered planet. In the one rocking-chair of the cabin sat
Insurance President Lottson, praising to Mr. Hooper, who leaned
obsequiously upon the back of the chair and occasionally hopped
vivaciously around it, the self-disregard of the disciples, and the
evident inability of any one within sight to follow their example. The
prudent Wagget was interviewing Dr. Fahrenglotz, who was going to attend
the meeting of a sort of Theosophic Society, composed almost entirely of
Germans, and was endeavoring to learn what points there might be in the
Doctor's belief which would make a man wiser unto salvation, while
Captain Maile stood by, a critical listener, and distributed pitying
glances between the two. Well forward, but to the rear of the general
crowd, stood Deacon Bates, in an attitude which might have seemed
conservative were it not manifestly helpless; Mr. Buffle, with the
smile peculiar to the successful business man; Lawyer Scott, with the
air of a man who had so much to say that time could not possibly suffice
in which to tell it all; Squire Woodhouse, who was in search of a good
market for hay; Principal Alleman, who was in chase of an overdue
shipment of text-books; and Mr. Radley, who, with indifferent success,
was filling the self-assigned roll of moderator of the little
assemblage.
"Nothing settled by the meeting?" said Mr. Buffle, echoing a despondent
suggestion by Deacon Bates. "Of course not. You don't suppose that what
theologians have been squabbling over for two thousand years can be
settled in a day, do you? We made a beginning and that's a good half of
anything. Why, I and every other man that builds boats have been hard at
work for years, looking for the best model, and we haven't settled the
question yet. We're in earnest about it--we can't help but be, for
there's money in it, and while we're waiting we do the next best
thing--we use the best ones we know about."
"Don't you think you'd get at the model sooner, if some of you weren't
pig-headed about your own, and too fond of abusing each other's?" asked
Mr. Radley.
"Certainly," admitted Mr. Buffle, "and that's why I wanted us to get up
a Bible-class like the one we have. If everybody will try to see what's
good in his neighbor's theories and what's bad in his own, his
fortune--his religion, I mean--is a sure thing. Fiddling on one string
always makes a thin sort of a tune."
"There were a good many small tunes begun yesterday, then," observed
Squire Woodhouse.
"Well," said Mr. Buffle, "I thought something of the kind, myself, but a
man can't break an old habit to pieces all at once. Things will be
different before long, though."
"There is no reason why they shouldn't," said Principal Alleman,
"excepting one reason that's stronger than any other. You can't get to
the bottom of any of the sayings of Christ, the Prophets or the
Apostles, without finding that they mean, Do Right. And when you reach
that point, what is in the man and not what is in the book comes into
play; or, rather, it always should but seldom does."
"I suppose that's so," said Mr. Buffle, soberly.
"In and of ourselves we can do nothing," remarked Deacon Bates.
"It's very odd, then, that we should have been told to do so much,"
replied Principal Alleman.
"It was to teach us our dependence upon a higher power," said Deacon
Bates, with more than his usual energy.
"Are we only to be taught, and never to learn, then?" asked Principal
Alleman. "Some of my pupils seem to think so, but those who depend least
upon the teacher and act most fully up to what they have been taught are
the ones I call my best scholars."
Deacon Bates's lower lip pushed up its neighbor; in the school-room, the
Principal's theory might apply, but in religion it was different, or he
(Deacon Bates) had always been mistaken, and this possibility was not to
be thought of for an instant. Fortunately for his peace of mind, the
boat touched her city dock just then, and from that hour until five in
the afternoon, when he left his store for the boat, religious theories
absented themselves entirely from Deacon Bates's mind.
The last meeting of the class was still the most popular subject of
conversation among the members, however, and interest of such a degree
could not help be contagious. Other residents of Valley Rest,
overhearing some of the chats between the members, expressed a desire to
listen to the discussions of the class, and to all was extended a hearty
welcome, without regard to race, color, or previous condition of
religious servitude, and all were invited to be doers as well as
hearers. So at the next session appeared ex-Judge Cottaway, who had
written a book and was a vestryman of St. Amos Parish; Broker Whilcher,
who worshiped with the Unitarians, but found them rather narrow, and
Broker Whilcher's bookkeeper, who read Herbert Spencer, and could not
tell what he himself believed, even if to escape the penalty of death.
Various motives brought men from other churches, including even one from
Father McGarry's flock, and all of them were assured that they might say
whatever they chose, provided only that they believed it.
"Shall we continue our consideration of last Sunday's lesson?" asked
Deacon Bates, after the opening prayer had been offered. "We have some
new members, and should therefore have some additional views to
consider."
"Let's hear everybody," said Captain Maile. "If we talk as long about
this verse as we'll _have_ to talk before we reach any agreement, we'll
all die before we can reach the square up-and-down verses that are
further along in this same sermon."
"If the class has no objection to offer, we will continue our study of
the third verse of the fifth chapter of Matthew, and those who spoke on
last Sunday will allow the newer members and others an opportunity to
make their views known." As Deacon Bates spoke, his eye rested warningly
on Mr. Jodderel.
"I think," said Mr. Jodderel, "that the new members ought to know what
ideas have already been presented, so as to throw any new light upon
them, if they can. The nature of the kingdom of heaven, now, is the most
important question suggested by the lesson, and--"
"It won't be of the slightest, consequence to any one," interrupted
Principal Alleman, "unless they first comply with the condition which
the verse imposes upon those who want to reach the kingdom."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," remarked President Lottson; "Jesus
said that the poor in spirit should have the kingdom of heaven; He
didn't say that no one else should share it with them. What is written
doesn't always, express all that is meant."
"It doesn't in insurance policies, anyhow," said Squire Woodhouse;
"when my barn burned--"
"Time is precious, my brethren," said Deacon Bates hastily, scenting a
personality. "I will therefore ask Judge Cottaway for his opinion of the
passage."
"I think," said the judge, with that impressive cough which is the
rightful indulgence of a man who has written a volume on the rules of
evidence, "that 'poor in spirit' undoubtedly means unassuming, rightly
satisfied with what is their due, mindful of the fact that human nature
is so imperfect that whatever a man obtains is probably more than he
deserves. They cannot be the meek, for special allusion is made to the
meek in this same group of specially designated persons. Neither can it
refer to people who are usually called poor-spirited persons, to wit,
those who are too devoid of what is commonly designated as spirit, for
these are properly classified as peace-makers, and have a similar though
not identical blessing promised to them."
"The class owes its thanks to the judge for his clear definition of the
term 'poor in spirit,'" said Mr. Jodderel, "and if he can be equally
distinct upon the expression 'kingdom of heaven' he will put an end to a
great deal of senseless blundering."
"I know of but one definition," said the judge, "heaven is the abode of
God and the angels, and of those who are finally saved."
"Ah, but _where_ is it? _that's_ the question this class wants
answered," said Mr. Jodderel, twisting his body and craning his head
forward as he awaited the answer.
"Really," said the judge, "you must excuse me. I don't know where it is,
and I can't see that study as to its locality can throw any light upon
the lesson."
This opinion, delivered by an ex-judge, who had written a book on the
rules of evidence, would have quieted almost any one else, and the
members' faces expressed a sense of relief as they thought that Mr.
Jodderel was not one of the faint-hearted, and in his opinion
faint-heartedness and quietness were one and the same thing.
"No light upon the lesson?" echoed Mr. Jodderel. "Why, what is the Bible
for, if not to inform us of our destiny? What is this world but a place
of preparation for another? And how can we prepare ourselves unless we
know what our future place and duty is to be?"
"Next!" exclaimed Deacon Bates with more than his usual energy, and Mr.
Jodderel sank back into his chair and talked angrily with every feature
but his mouth, and with his whole body besides. "Mr. Whilcher has some
new ideas to present, no doubt," continued the leader, bracing himself
somewhat firmly in his chair, for the Deacon naturally expected an
assault from a man of Mr. Whilcher's peculiar views.
"Poverty of spirit seems to me to be old English for modesty," said Mr.
Whilcher, "We know very little, comparatively, of the great designs of
God, and about as little of the intentions of our fellow-men, so we
should be very careful how we question our Maker or criticise our
neighbors. No human being would appreciate divine perfection if he saw
it; no man can give his fellow men full credit for what they _would_ do,
if they were angels, and are sorry because they can't do. I think the
passage means that only by that modesty, that self-repression, by which
alone a man can accept the inevitable as decreed by God, and forbear
that fault-finding which comes fully as easy as breathing, can a man be
fitted for the companionship of the loving company which awaits us all
in the next world"
"Whereabouts?" asked Mr. Jodderel.
Half-a-dozen members filibustered at once, and Mr. Jodderel was
temporarily suppressed, after which Squire Woodhouse remarked:
"Well, now, that sounds first-rate--I never knew before that Unitarians
had such good religion in them--no harm meant, you know, Whilcher."
"Now let us hear from Mr. Bungfloat," said Deacon Bates.
Mr. Bungfloat, bookkeeper to Mr. Whilcher, hopelessly explored his
memory for something from Herbert Spencer that would bear upon the
subject, but finding nothing at hand, he quoted some expressions from
John Stuart Mill's essay on "Nature," and was hopelessly demoralized
when he realized that they did not bear in the remotest manner upon the
topic under consideration. Then Deacon Bates announced that the subject
was open for general remark and comment. Mr. Jodderel was upon his feet
in an instant, though the class has no rule compelling the members to
rise while speaking.
"Mr. Leader," said he, "everybody has spoken, but nobody has settled the
main question, which is, where is the 'kingdom of heaven'? Everybody
knows who the poor in spirit are; any one that didn't know when we began
has now a lot of first-class opinions to choose from. But where and what
is heaven--_that_ is what we want to know."
A subdued but general groan indicated the possibility that Mr. Jodderel
was mistaken as to the desires of the class. Meanwhile, young Mr. Banty,
who had been to Europe, and listened to much theological debate in cafes
and beer-gardens, remarked:
"I'm not a member of this respected body, but I seem to be included in
the chairman's invitation. I profess to be a man of the world--I've been
around a good deal--and I never could see that the poor in spirit
amounted to a row of pins. If they're fit for heaven they ought to be
fit for something on this side of that undiscovered locality."
"Discovered millions upon millions of times, bless the Lord,"
interrupted Squire Woodhouse.
"Well, the discoverers sent no word back, at any rate," said young Mr.
Banty, "so there's one view I think ought to be considered; isn't it
possible that Jesus was mistaken?"
Mr. Primm turn pale and Deacon Bates shivered violently, while a low hum
and a general shaking of heads showed the unpopularity of young Mr.
Banty's idea.
"The class cannot entertain such a theory for an instant," answered
Deacon Bates, as soon as he could recover his breath, "though it
encourages the freest expression of opinion."
"Oh!" remarked Mr. Banty, with a derisive smile. The tone in which this
interjection was delivered put the class upon its spirit at once.
"Our leader means exactly what he says," said Mr. Jodderel; "any honest
expression of opinion is welcome here."
"If such were not the case," said Mr. Primm, "a rival class would not
have been formed."
"And none of us would have learned how many sides there are to a great
question," said. Mr. Buffle.
"Larger liberty wouldn't be possible," said Builder Stott. "Why, I've
just had to shudder once in a while, but the speakers meant what they
said, and I rejoiced that there was somewhere where they could say it."
"I've said everything _I've_ wanted to," remarked Squire Woodhouse.
"That's so," exclaimed Insurance President Lottson.
"I haven't seen any man put down," testified Captain Maile, "and I don't
yet understand what to make of it."
"Nobody could ask a fairer show," declared Mr. Radley.
"The utmost courtesy has been displayed toward me," said Dr.
Fahrenglotz, "although I am conscious my views are somewhat at variance
with those of others."
"The nature of proof has not been as clearly understood as it should
have been," said young Lawyer Scott; "but no one has lacked opportunity
to express his sentiments."
"So far from fault being found with the freedom of speech," said Mr.
Alleman, "the sentiment of the class is, I think, that the expression of
additional individual impressions would have been cordially welcomed, as
they will also hereafter be."
Young Mr. Banty felt himself to be utterly annihilated, and the pillars
of the class looked more stable and enduring than ever, and felt
greatly relieved when the session ended, and they could congratulate
each other on the glorious spirit of liberty which had marked their
collective deliberations. And when Squire Woodhouse dashed impetuously
from the room, and returned to report that Dr. Humbletop's class
consisted of one solitary pupil, several of the members unconsciously
indulged in some hearty hand-shaking.