We propose.
WE are in the valley of humiliation. Since the church has been
rejected, it has an opportunity to understand how a candidate feels
when he is rejected. I am inclined on consideration to recall the
last paragraph of the last chapter. I am inclined to think Mr.
Uncannon may prove a "means of grace" to us yet. He has certainly
been a thorn in the side.
On further consideration, I do retract it. I here emphatically
record that first thoughts are not always best thoughts, and that it
is my sober second judgment that Mr. Uncannon has done us more good
than he has the parish at North Bizzy. We gave him to them
grudgingly. But it has been a case in which the proverb applies: It
is more blessed to give than to receive. For Mr. Uncannon's
flirtation has probably given us Maurice Mapleson for a pastor.
Two weeks ago I was coming up from New York on the train. Deacon
Goodsole was in the seat in front of me. My satchel was my only
traveling companion. And I, according to custom, was enjoying a
train nap, when I was aroused by a hand on my shoulder coupled with
a hearty "Hallo! you could not be sounder asleep if you were in
church and Dr. Argure was in the pulpit."
It was Mr. Wheaton.
"Good afternoon," said I. "Sit down." And my satchel exchanged its
seat for a place in my lap in order to make room for Mr. Wheaton on
the seat beside me.
"Look here, gentlemen," said Mr. Wheaton, taking the proffered seat,
"we've been fooling about this minister business long enough."
"Been fooled you mean," said Deacon Goodsole.
"I tell you," said Mr. Wheaton, slapping his knee by way of
emphasis, "that young Maurice Mapleson is the man for us. The more I
think of it the more I am sure of it."
"He is a right earnest man," said the Deacon. "I think he was the
first spark we have seen in the ashes of our prayer meeting for many
a day."
"Can't you get him to come down, Mr. Laicus?" asked Mr. Wheaton.
I shook my head resolutely.
"Not as a candidate you know, but on some dodge or other. Invite him
to spend a week with you, and book on to him for the pulpit when
Sunday comes."
"He isn't the man for dodges," said the Deacon, doubtfully.
I shook my head as decidedly to the second proposition as to the
first.
"Well then," said Mr. Wheaton, "if he won't come here we will have
to go there. It isn't far."
The Deacon doubted whether the church would agree to deviate from
the old paths.
"They wouldn't have done it," said Mr. Wheaton. "But they'll agree
to anything now I think."
"Mr. Gear recommended that plan when we first met," said I. "He will
approve of it. But how as to Mr. Hardcap?"
"Oh! no matter about Hardcap," said Mr. Wheaton, "he's no account."
"Excuse me," said I, "he is one of our committee and is of account."
So after some consultation it was finally agreed that we should get
off at the Mill Village Station to see Mr. Gear, and then walk up to
Wheathedge. Deacon Goodsole also proposed to put Mr. Hardcap on the
special committee to go to Koniwasset Corners, and Mr. Wheaton said
he would furnish a free pass over the road to all who would go. No
man is impervious to compliments if they are delicately
administered. At all events Mr. Gear was sensibly pleased by having
us call on him in a body. And Mr. Hardcap, when he found that the
new plan involved a free ride on the railroad and a Sunday excursion
for himself, withdrew all objections.
My wife says, "For shame, John," and wants me to strike that last
sentence out. But it is true, and I do not know why it should not
stand. It is in confidence you know.
The next Saturday Mr. Wheaton, Mr. Hardcap and Deacon Goodsole
started for Koniwasset Corners. They reached it, or rather they
reached Koniwasset, the nearest point, Saturday evening, and Sunday
morning rode over, a drive of five miles. It was a beautiful day;
the congregation turned out well; the little church was full, and
Maurice, unconscious of the presence of a committee, and preaching,
not to fish for a place, but to fish for men, was free,
unconstrained and, as Providence willed it, or as good fortune would
have it (the reader may have his choice of expressions, according as
he is Christian or heathen), was in a good mood. Deacon Goodsole was
delighted. Jim Wheaton was scarcely less so, and even Mr. Hardcap
was pleased to say that it was "a real plain Gospel sermon." Deacon
Goodsole found an old friend in one of the congregation and went
home with him to dinner, while Mr. Wheaton and Mr. Hardcap went back
to the hotel. Deacon Goodsole joined them in the evening and brought
a good report of the Sunday-school, where he had watched the
unconscious parson (who superintends his own school), and had even,
to avoid suspicion, taken the place of an absent teacher for the
afternoon.
Mr. Wheaton had to return the next day, but the Deacon found no
great difficulty in persuading Mr. Hardcap to stay over, and Tuesday
evening they went to the weekly prayer-meeting. Meanwhile they
inquired quietly in the neighborhood about the preacher at the
Corners, giving however no one a hint of their object, except the
parson at Koniwasset who commended Maurice very highly for his piety
and his efficiency. As to his preaching, he said he should not call
him eloquent, "but" he added, "there is one thing; Maurice Mapleson
never speaks without having something to say; and he is very much in
earnest."
Both the Deacon and Mr. Hardcap were very much pleased with the
spirit of the prayer-meeting--the Deacon said Mr. Mapleson could
make more of a fire with less fuel than any man he knew--and when the
committee made their report, which they did at the close of our
Wednesday evening meeting, it was unanimous in favor of giving
Maurice a call.
To call a man without hearing him was not the orthodox way, and the
objections which Mr. Hardcap had originally proposed in the
committee meeting were renewed by others. In reply it was said, very
truly, that the church really knew more about Mr. Mapleson than they
could possibly learn from a trial sermon, or even from half a dozen
of them, that a careful investigation by a committee into his actual
working power was a far better test than any pulpit exhibition,
however brillant. I added that Mapleson's letter was positive, and
his convictions settled, and that I felt reasonably certain he would
not preach as a candidate. On the whole this increased the desire to
get him; and finally a second committee was appointed to go and hear
him. A couple of ladies were put, informally, on this committee, and
the church paid the expenses of the four. I say informally. Deacon
Goodsole nominated Miss Moore and Mrs. Biskit, and quoted the case
of Phoebe from the sixteenth chapter of Romans to prove that it was
apostolic. But the ladies shook their heads, as did some of the
elders of the church and Mr. Hardcap entered a vigorous protest. The
Deacon was a born and bred Congregationalist, and is radical, I am
afraid, in church matters. A compromise was finally effected by
appointing two of the elders, who agreed to take their wives.
They came back as well pleased as the first committee had been, and
the result was, to make a long story short, that last week a
unanimous call was sent to Maurice, and as I write this letter I
have before me a private note from him, saying that he has received
it, and that, if agreeable to us, he will come down and spend a week
with me. He says he wants to see our prayer-meeting, our
Sabbath-school teachers' meeting, and our Sabbath-school. He adds
that he will preach for us on Sunday if we desire, but that he does
not want it known that he will be here at the prayer-meeting, as he
wants to take a back seat and see how it goes.
In short he gives me to understand that it is the church which is on
trial, not the minister, and that whether he comes or not depends on
what kind of a church he finds it to be. This reversal of the
ordinary course of things is a little queer; but I guess it is all
right. At all events it will not do the church at Wheathedge any
harm. Meanwhile until we get a final answer from Maurice Mapleson
our pulpit is no longer in the market. For after our experience of
ministerial coquetry I do not think there will be any inclination on
our part for a flirtation.