Sore that they behaved with such scant respect, Paul herded them into
the Council Room. "Is it seemly," he rebuked them, "that the Prophets of
God act like madmen?"
"Our lot is awful," said they.
"The lot of the backslider is justifiably awful," was Paul's rejoinder.
"You have prophesied too diligently of your own glory."
"You are learned in the Law, Paul," said Moses. "Make us waywise."
"Send abroad a messenger to preach damnation to sinners," answered Paul.
"For Heaven," added he, "is the knowledge of Hell."
So it came to pass. From the hem of Heaven's Highway an angel flew into
Wales; and the angel, having judged by his sight and his hearing,
returned to the Council Room and testified to the godliness of the Welsh
Nonconformists. "As difficult for me," he vowed, "to write the feathers
of my wings as the sum of their daily prayers."
"None has reached the Record Office," said Paul.
"They are always engaged in this bright business," the angel declared,
"and praising the Lord. And the number of the people is many and Heaven
will need be enlarged for their coming."
"Of a surety they pray?" asked Paul.
"Of a surety. And as they pray they quake terribly."
"The Romans prayed hardly," said Paul. "But they prayed to other gods."
"Wherever you stand on their land," asserted the angel, "you see a
temple."
"I exceedingly fear," Paul remarked, "that another Lord has dominion
over them."
The Prophets were alarmed, and they sent a company of angels over the
earth and a company under the earth; and the angels came back; one
company said: "We searched the swampy marges and saw neither a god nor a
heaven nor any prayer," and the other company said: "We probed the lofty
emptiness and we did not touch a god or a heaven or any prayer."
Paul was distressed and he reported his misgivings to God, and God
upbraided the Prophets for their sloth. "Is there no one who can do this
for me?" He cried. "Are all the cunning men in Hell? Shall I make all
Heaven drink the dregs of my fury? Burnish your rusted armor. Depart
into Hell and cry out: 'Is there one here who knows the Welsh
Nonconformists?' Choose the most crafty and release him and lead him
here."
Lots were cast and it fell to Moses to descend into Hell; and he stood
at the well, the water of which is harder than crystal, and he cried
out; and of the many that professed he chose Saint David, whom he
brought up to God.
"Visit your people," said God to the Saint, "and bring me their
prayers."
"Why should I be called?"
"It is my will. My Prophets have failed me, and if it is not done they
shall be destroyed."
David laughed. "From Hell comes a savior of the Prophets. In the middle
of my discourse at the Judgment Seat the Prophets stooped upon me. 'To
Hell with him,' they screamed."
"Perform faithfully," said the Lord, "and you shall remain in
Paradise."
"My Lord is gracious! I was a Prophet and the living believe that I am
with the saints. I will retire."
"Perform faithfully and you shall be of my Prophets."
Then God took away David's body and nailed it upon a wall, and He put
wings on the shoulders of his soul; and David darted through a cloud and
landed on earth, and having looked at the filthiness of the
Nonconformists in Wales he withdrew to London. But however actively he
tried he could not find a man of God nor the destination of the fearful
prayers of Welsh preachers, grocers, drapers, milkmen, lawyers, and
politicians.
Loth to go to Hell and put to a nonplus, David built a nest in a tree in
Richmond Park, and he paused therein to consider which way to proceed.
One day he was disturbed by the singing and preaching of a Welsh soldier
who had taken shelter from rain under the tree. David came down from
his nest, and when the mouth of the man was most open, he plunged into
the fellow's body. Henceforward in whatsoever place the soldier was
there also was David; and the soldier carried him to a clothier's shop
in Putney, the sign of the shop being written in this fashion:
J. PARKER LEWIS.
The Little (Gents. Mercer) Wonder.