ILF 
 
THE FARMER AND THE LORD 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE H. HEPWORTH 
 
 AUTHOR OF " HIRAM GOLF S RELIGION," "HERALD SERMONS," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 
 
 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 
 1896 
 
Copyright, 
 
 E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY, 
 1896. 
 
f 
 
 / 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 i. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE i 
 
 II. 
 LIFE ON THE FARM 27 
 
 III. 
 THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER 46 
 
 IV. 
 A HOT DISCUSSION 63 
 
 V. 
 THE FARMER is ANGRY 87 
 
 VI. 
 LIJE FINDS HIS SON 106 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE NEXT MORNING 126 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY 144 
 
 iii 
 
 M12044 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 IX. PAGE 
 
 SAM AND JESSIG AGREE 164 
 
 X. 
 
 A SLIGHT ACCIDENT 186 
 
 XL 
 THE NEED OF FAITH 209 
 
 XII. 
 AND so, THE END 230 
 
THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 i. 
 
 CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 
 
 " Now look here, Rastus Brown, don t talk 
 any meracles to me, for I don t believe in em." 
 
 " There isn t any harm in talkin , Lije, is 
 there?" 
 
 " Not if you talk sense, there isn t. But 
 when you get to ramblin round after meracles 
 you won t find anythin more than my son Sam 
 did when he went gunnin for ducks in August." 
 
 "He didn t get none, eh?" 
 
 " No, and cos there wasn t any. Tain t the 
 i 
 
AND THE LORD - 
 
 season when they fly in these parts. And there 
 ain t any more meracles at any time of the year 
 than there is ducks in summer, I reckon." 
 
 " Mebbe, Lijah ; but your Sam knew pretty 
 well that there was such things as ducks some 
 where, or he wouldn t have wasted time tryin 
 to find em. He made a mistake in lookin for 
 em in the wrong place, that s all." 
 
 " Yes, and I jedge that your meracles is about 
 as scarce as Sam s ducks. What I can see I 
 believe, but what I can t see I don t know 
 nothin about. That s a pretty short creed, but 
 it has sarved my purpose so far. I don t play 
 hide-and-seek with my eyes shut." 
 
 " You always was a peculiar fellow, Lije, and 
 I can t quite see through you." 
 
 "Wall, I don t set up to be winder- glass, 
 Rastus." 
 
 " Now you wouldn t cheat a man in a horse 
 trade, even if you had a chance." 
 
 " Some of you church folks would," sneered 
 Lije. 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 3 
 
 " And I can t see how you get along without 
 believin as other folks do." 
 
 " Wall, I ve reared a tidy family, Rastus, and 
 the old farm pays about as well as most of em." 
 
 " Yes, but you ain t got no futur , Lije." 
 
 "What do I want of a futur , Rastus? 
 specially if there isn t any." 
 
 " Yes, you ve got money in the bank, I al 
 low, and your children are strong and healthy. 
 But what are you goin to do, Lije, bimeby ? " 
 
 " Guess I ll have to chance it, same as you 
 will." 
 
 " Supposin 1 that Sam was to be took, what 
 then?" 
 
 " Don t worry about Sam, Rastus, and don t 
 draw picters of that kind. My father give me 
 a good body, and I give the same to Sam. 
 He s a robustious boy, and his muscle is just 
 like steel." 
 
 " All right, but supposin " 
 
 " Oh, I ain t in the business of supposin . 
 I ve got somethin better to do." 
 
4 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " I was only thinkin , Lije, that it is a good 
 thing to have somethin to tie to when there s 
 trouble, cos if you don t you re just like thistle 
 down in a gale of wind. 
 
 " I d rather believe nothin than believe what 
 isn t so, Rastus, as you do." 
 
 " If it isn t so, why, then, you ought not to 
 believe it; but p r aps tis so, and you may be 
 mistook. You remember Silas Timber, don t 
 you?" 
 
 "Wall, what of him?" 
 
 " He went out to Montany, or somewhere, 
 prospectin . He was goin to get his pockets 
 full of gold. Up in the mountains, one day, he 
 and his partner was peerin about, when the 
 other fellow said : Silas, there s gold under our 
 feet as true as you live; I can see the signs. 
 But Silas he knew more n any one else, and he 
 vowed there wasn t any gold there. He didn t 
 see any signs, cos he didn t know a sign from a 
 jack-knife." 
 
 " I ve heerd about that," and Lije chuckled. 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 5 
 
 " So Silas bid his partner good-mornin , and 
 trudged along. And what was the conse 
 quence? " 
 
 "Tell it yourself, Rastus; tisn t my story." 
 
 " If I recollect, the partner staked his claim, 
 and got out of it all the gold he wanted. As 
 for Silas " 
 
 " Well," broke in Lije, " Silas is hammerin 
 hot iron in the blacksmith s shop at the Corners 
 at a dollar a day, and serves him right." 
 
 " That s just it, Lije. And you are ham 
 merin cold iron, and not makin much out of it, 
 either." 
 
 " You re gettin rather personal, Rastus," 
 and Lije grew red in the face. " I haven t 
 done anythin of the kind." 
 
 " The gold was there, right under Silas s 
 feet," continued Rastus, "but he didn t see it; 
 and here s a good many things, close by you, 
 that you ought to believe in, but you don t 
 re-cog-nize em." 
 
 And now let me interrupt this conversation a 
 
6 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 few minutes while I describe the persons en 
 gaged in it. 
 
 That the two were of the country folk is 
 plain. That they belonged to the New Eng 
 land type is shown by their dialect, for in no 
 other section of the country is this peculiar 
 mode of speech found. They both knew how 
 to think, though they couldn t express their 
 thoughts in grammatical phrases. 
 
 Erastus Brown was what in these days would 
 be called a broad Christian. Some of the 
 church officials thought he was just a bit astray, 
 theologically, but I knew him for years, and it 
 always seemed to me that if the dear Lord were 
 to visit Woodbine, He would sup with Rastus 
 as He did with the little family at Bethany. 
 He was as straight in his life as he was in his 
 physique a man six feet three in his stockings, 
 clear-headed, clear-eyed, and pure-hearted. 
 Rather brusk in expressing an opinion, he was 
 apt to say things which were remembered ; and 
 even now, after a lapse of many years, and 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 7 
 
 though he has been in heaven for a full decade, 
 his quaint sayings are frequently repeated. 
 
 " You can cheat yourself, and you can cheat 
 other people," he said on one occasion, " but 
 you can t get up early enough to cheat the 
 Lord. " And if you were to talk with a Woodbine 
 farmer for half an hour, you would probably 
 hear that sentence, and Rastus would be cred 
 ited as its author. 
 
 " There are a good many snags in a man s 
 life," he said to me one day, just before I went 
 to college, " and you ve got to get round em 
 the best way you can. I notice that the boats 
 on the Mississippi don t butt ag in em if they 
 can help it. When you see one ahead of you, 
 do as the priest and the Levite did : cross over, 
 and go along on the other side." 
 
 Again, " You can get sweetenin out of a 
 pizen blossom, if you know as much as the bees 
 do; and a man that isn t better n a bumblebee 
 isn t fit for the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 There is one other of his sayings which you 
 
8 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 will hear, and it is worth quoting here. The 
 man who kept the corner grocery was supposed 
 to be very pious, but it was dangerous to make 
 a swap with him of any article you had for sale. 
 Rastus remarked in his hearing, and there was 
 a queer twinkle in his eye : " It isn t talkin that 
 gets you into heaven; it s doin ." Then he 
 added : " The Lord doesn t weigh a man s 
 possessions. You can t put nothin on the hea 
 venly scales that isn t clean and honest and 
 aboveboard." 
 
 There is a slate-stone slab at the head of a 
 grave in the churchyard behind John Jessig s 
 church, and under the name of Erastus Brown 
 John had these words inscribed : 
 
 "He lived as he believed. 1 1 
 
 Elijah Tomkins was in some respects a differ 
 ent sort of man. His head was as square as 
 a cube, indicating great obstinacy of purpose. 
 He had the high cheek-bones of his race, but a 
 couple of blue eyes, eyes that were deeply, 
 darkly, beautifully blue, like a New England 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. g 
 
 sky in December, and they looked you straight 
 in the face. One glance at his firm lower jaw, 
 hardly concealed by the sparse whiskers, which 
 looked like a hedge of scrub-oak, would con 
 vince you that he had opinions of his own, and 
 was not afraid of them. 
 
 He inherited his infidelity not from his father 
 alone, but from his grandfather, and the inher 
 itance was a pretty large one. Mr. Huxley had 
 to invent a word to cover his own case; for 
 when his friends asked him if he believed in 
 God or in immortality, he flew to the Greek 
 dictionary and dragged from it a couple of roots 
 which he put together, making the word " ag 
 nostic." Thereafter he spoke of himself as an 
 agnostic, or a man who is willing to admit that 
 you may be right or you may be wrong in your 
 belief, but, for himself, he doesn t know any 
 thing about it. In the days of Lije s father and 
 grandfather this convenient word had not come 
 into use. They didn t say, " I don t know 
 whether it is so or not, and I can t find out, so 
 
10 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 I never give myself any trouble about the mat 
 ter " not they. They were altogether too 
 blunt, too undiplomatic for that. They insisted 
 that they did know something about God and 
 immortality, all that it was possible to know, in 
 fact, and that the statements of Christians were 
 wholly false. There was no hiding behind the 
 fence of agnosticism, or I-don t-know-ism, in 
 those times, but a man flatly denied everything, 
 and defended his denial against all comers. 
 
 There is a legend that Lije s ancestor had a 
 theological tussle with the preacher one day. 
 After listening to an argument on predestina 
 tion, he is recorded as saying, " Parson, ar n t 
 you makin God rather small and narrer? 
 Seems to me, if I believed in Him, I wouldn t 
 kind of hedge Him in, as you re doin , but. I d 
 pfive Him all the room there is for the exercise 
 
 o 
 
 of charity to poor human bein s." The criticism 
 flew round the country neighborhood, and his 
 fellow-farmers avoided him more sedulously 
 than ever. He took no note of it, but simply 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. II 
 
 remarked, " My opinion for me, and your opin 
 ion for you. That s fair, isn t it?" and went 
 about his work as usual. 
 
 That is the stock from which Lije came. He 
 was apparently so made that he couldn t believe 
 as others did. The whole trend of his mind 
 was the other way. But his life was better 
 than his creed. He exercised the Christian 
 virtues, but didn t know they were Christian. 
 Indeed, in his rough way he was punctiliously 
 honorable, for if he told you he would pay a 
 certain debt on a given day three months ahead, 
 he would do it as surely as the sun rose. 
 
 Yes, he was sharp at a bargain, but I never 
 knew a straightforward man who was not. He 
 traded for the purpose of getting a profit from 
 the trade, but he was what the villagers called 
 a square man. And, moreover, he was a broad- 
 minded and just man, with a dash of charity in 
 his judgment. One day a very hot rivalry 
 burst forth between two churches, and some 
 rough things were said on both sides. To one 
 
12 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 of the deacons he quietly remarked : " Well, 
 there isn t much of an inducement to jine either 
 of them churches, if I happened to be thinkin 
 of doin so, is there? Tears to me that if 
 you re follerin your Master, you re so far be 
 hind Him that you re clean out of sight;" and 
 he said it so good-naturedly that no offense 
 could be taken. 
 
 I speak of him thus in detail because I pro 
 pose to follow his fortunes, and to tell you of 
 the remarkable effect which certain incidents 
 produced in his character. 
 
 Rastus and Lije were intimate friends. In 
 their boyhood they went together to the same 
 school-house at the corner, trudging through a 
 mile of snow during the winter months. The 
 same birch rod had fallen on both their backs, 
 and the same ferule had made the palms of their 
 hands as red as a bit of sunset. They were 
 manly youngsters, who shared their lunch with 
 each other at recess, and when school was out 
 fought side by side in boyish battles. 
 
CHA T BY THE WA YSIDE. \ 3 
 
 " He can t see the stars," said Rastus, when 
 speaking of his friend to me, " and Fm sorry 
 for it; but he s a good neighbor, and I guess 
 the Lord won t be too hard on him. If a man 
 lights his taller candle in the dark, he can t see 
 as much as though the sun was shinin , but he 
 can see somethin . He ll die sometime, and 
 the day after the funeral he ll know a good deal 
 more n he does now." 
 
 When my story opens Rastus was plowing, 
 and Lije was leaning against the stone wall, 
 doggedly whittling a stick. Now the peculiar 
 ity of a New England whittler is that when he 
 is in a conciliatory mood he whittles toward 
 himself, with his thumb on the whittled end of 
 the stick; but when he is defiant he whittles 
 away from himself, making the splinters fly. 
 You may judge from the conversation which I 
 have already reported that Lije s jack-knife was 
 doing rather vigorous work. He was in no 
 amiable state of mind. One of the ministers on 
 the Sunday previous had made some remarks 
 
14 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 which seemed to be unnecessarily personal, and 
 Lije had become militant. 
 
 " Sometimes I think," he said, as he drew his 
 hard thumb across the blade of his knife 
 " sometimes I think I don t believe in nothin . 
 Tany rate, you can t be sure of nothin ." 
 
 "Yes, you do, Lije," and Rastus leaned 
 against his plow-handles, and looked his friend 
 in the face. 
 
 " You know more bout it than I do, do 
 you? " 
 
 "Yes, I reckon I do." 
 
 "And I reckon you don t, Rastus." 
 
 " Say, Lije, don t you believe in the good old 
 mother that borned you, and whose last days 
 you blessed with every comfort you could give 
 her?" 
 
 " That s like askin me if I m human, isn t 
 it?" 
 
 " And don t you believe in Samanthy, that 
 you married nigh thirty years ago, and who s 
 been a good wife to you ever since? " 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 15 
 
 " Rastus, are you wild ? What s that got to 
 do with it?" 
 
 " And don t you believe that the world is 
 progressing and every man ought to shove it 
 along, and that it ll come out all right in the 
 end, and that you and I ought to be marciful 
 to man and beast, and that if we can lend 
 a helpin hand anywhere, we re bound to do 
 it?" 
 
 " I can t see what you re drivin at, Rastus." 
 But he did see, and he stooped to pick up an 
 other stick to whittle. 
 
 " And don t you believe that it wouldn t be 
 no harm to follow the Lord, and do pretty 
 much as He did, forgivin and forbearin , and 
 all that sort of thing?" 
 
 " What s the meanin* of all this, Rastus ? 
 Do you take me for a heathen? " 
 
 " No, cos I know you re not one, Lije. But 
 I want to show you that when you say you 
 don t believe nothin you are overstatin the 
 case. You believe pretty nigh onto everythin 
 
1 6 THE FARMER AXD THE LORD. 
 
 that other people believe, only you draw the 
 line just this side of the church." 
 
 " And you think," sneered Lije, " that cos I 
 don t swaller your creed I m goin to perdition, 
 eh ? That s the kind of charity you hev, and 
 the kind of marcy you folks show." 
 
 " Hold up there, Lije ; I don t go as far as 
 that, and you know it. Do you remember that 
 one day a scribe come to Jesus to have a talk 
 about what is essential in religion, and the Lord 
 said that love to God and love to your neighbor 
 was aboat all any one could properly attend 
 to?" 
 
 " Wal\ yes; I ve heerd somethin of the 
 kind." 
 
 " And when the man remarked that in his 
 opinion them two commandments was the great 
 est things in the world, the Lord turned on him 
 and said, You are not far from the kingdom of 
 God ? Now, Lije, you are like that scribe : 
 you re not far off." 
 
 " Mebbe," answered Lije, " and then ag in 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 17 
 
 mebbe not. I ain t sartin about nothin except 
 that I don t know nothin . There s lots of 
 things I don t believe, and I m not goin to say 
 I do. You say you believe in God ; well, I 
 don t, and that s the end so far as I am con 
 cerned. And you believe in a futur ; but you ve 
 never been there, and no one s ever come from 
 there. And you do a good deal of prayin , and 
 what is it anyhow? The parson turns his face 
 up to the ceilin and begins to tell some one he 
 can t see what he ought to do, and how a good 
 many things is wrong and he d like to have 
 him set em right. I don t see no sense in 
 it" 
 
 Rastus was greatly troubled in his mind. 
 He had heard Lije say the same things many 
 times, but now there was a kind of fierceness in 
 his voice which seemed to be defiant, and he 
 hardly knew what to make of it. 
 
 " I reckon," Lije continued " I reckon, and 
 I ll bet a cooky on it, that if you was hauled 
 up before a church council, you d come off 
 
1 8 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 pretty slim, for you re not afeard of your opin 
 ions any more n I am." 
 
 " We won t talk about that, Lije. It s neither 
 here nor there, whether I come up to the regu 
 lation standard in all partic lars or not ; but I 
 believe more n you do, and I wouldn t give it up 
 for the best farm in the county." 
 
 " Wall, Rastus, tell me honest what you do 
 believe." 
 
 " Just wait till I plow another furrer round 
 this field, and think about it. Keep on whittlin 
 till I come back, will you ? Get up there, 
 Molly! High, Patsy, boy!" 
 
 Rastus struck the helve of his plow into the 
 sod, and the rich loam groaned as it was turned 
 over. He was gone not more than five minutes. 
 "Whoa!" and he left the plow and faced Lije. 
 
 " Are you ready to hear me? " he asked. 
 
 "Fire ahead; I m listenin ," was the answer. 
 
 " I ain t much at an argyment, Lije, and you 
 can throw me every time." 
 
 Lije was somewhat mollified by the compli- 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 19 
 
 ment, and with a sly twinkle he answered, " Just 
 as I did when we was boys and had a wrastlin - 
 match." 
 
 " Yes, you throwed me, but throwin me 
 didn t prove that you were in the right. Guess 
 you see that, don t you ? " 
 "P r aps." 
 
 " But if you re in arnest, and want a state 
 ment of my belief, you can have it." 
 " All right, Rastus." 
 
 " In the first place, I believe in a superin- 
 tendin Providence that s over all creation. I 
 don t expect that this ere dandelion could grow 
 unless it was told to, and it s Him that told it 
 to who looks after affairs generally, includin 
 you and me. I don t pretend that I know much 
 about Him. I only know that He kinder per 
 vades me. That s where I begin, and it s a 
 pretty big beginnin ." 
 
 " Yes, you begin with what you don t know 
 for sure, just as I expected." 
 
 " That isn t so certain, Lije. T other night I 
 
20 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 was in the parlor, and it was dark as your 
 pocket. I sat down on the sofy for a minute, 
 and then I felt confident that there was some 
 body in the room." 
 
 " Heard his feet shuffle, of course." 
 
 " No, I didn t. I didn t hear a sound. But 
 somehow or other I sensed another person, and 
 if you was to ask me why, I couldn t tell you. 
 Bimeby I said, quiet like, Is anybody here? 
 and Sam burst out laughin . I see you come 
 in, father/ he said, but I thought I d keep still 
 and pry on you. 
 
 " That argyment isn t worth shucks. If that s 
 all you ve got to say, your belief has a pretty 
 slim foundation, and it had better get somethin 
 stronger to stand on. Howsomever, proceed to 
 the next p int." 
 
 " Wall, my idea is that heaven and earth 
 can t be very far apart, and them that s gone 
 know what we re doin and help us do it." 
 
 " Where is this heaven you re talkin about, 
 Rastus? Seems to me you re wadin through a 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 21 
 
 bog and will come out nowhere. That s about 
 where I am, and you only think you re some 
 where else, but you ain t." 
 
 " I can t put my finger on the map and say its 
 here or there, but it s bound to be somewhere." 
 
 "Isn t that sorter dim?" and Lije looked at 
 Rastus through the corners of his eyes. 
 
 " Don t seem to me so, Lije. I lost that lit 
 tle fellow of mine, you remember, two year ago, 
 and it most broke our hearts to home. I didn t 
 see how I could stand it, and as for Tildy, you 
 know how she went round the house with tears 
 runnin down her cheeks like a spring freshet ; 
 for you was there every day, and a mighty 
 good friend you was, though you couldn t say 
 much that was comfortin . Still Tildy remarked 
 to me one day, Lije s hand-shake, though he 
 don t open his lips, is worth more n some peo 
 ple s talk. " 
 
 " Don t speak of that, Rastus. We was boys 
 together, you know, and I couldn t help bein 
 neighborly, that s all." 
 
22 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " After a while," continued Rastus, " I 
 thought I d go to the village and see if Parson 
 Jessig could do anythin for Tildy, and he come 
 right up here and stayed to supper." 
 
 " Why didn t you go to your own minister, 
 at the Corners? " 
 
 " Don t know why, Lije. Guess twas a 
 special providence. At any rate, I struck the 
 right man. He come to the house several times, 
 and he told us a lot of things we d never 
 thought of." 
 
 " Sich as what? " asked Lije. 
 
 " Well, for one thing, he said that whenever 
 Christ got into trouble the angels came and 
 helped Him out of it. That was a part of 
 Scripter I had skipped over, but the parson 
 seemed to think it was rather important." 
 
 " H m!" sneered Lije. 
 
 " Then ag in, he referred to the cloud of wit 
 nesses that Paul talks about. And after a while 
 he said quietly, Who do you suppose was in 
 that cloud of witnesses? 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 23 
 
 " I can t even guess, says I, for I didn t see 
 his drift. 
 
 " Did you ever think, says he, that you 
 can t read much of the Bible without findin that 
 somebody up there is always comin down here 
 to do good ? 
 
 " I never thought of it in that light, says I ; 
 it s a new idea. 
 
 " Well, says he, you needn t give up lovin 
 Billy, for he hasn t give up lovin you, that s 
 sartin. He s in heaven, but how nigh that is to 
 the farm, and the dear mother there, no one 
 can tell; but in my judgment B lly is close 
 enough to see what s goin on; and if so, he s 
 sorry to see you mourn as those who have no 
 hope. That is what Parson Jessig said, and 
 I ve never forgot it." 
 
 Rastus was visibly affected. The memories 
 of other days rushed into his mind, and, unless 
 I am mistaken, there was moisture in his eyes. 
 As for Lije, he had a warm, tender heart, and 
 though it would have been impossible for him 
 
24 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 to shed a tear, he kept profoundly silent, neither 
 shrugging his shoulders nor otherwise express 
 ing his dissent. 
 
 Rastus couldn t trust himself to speak further 
 at the moment; so he said, in a broken sort of 
 way, " Lije, I want to ask you a question, and 
 I want a square answer; but just wait till I plow 
 another furrer round the field, and then I ll be 
 all right." 
 
 The sun was slanting to the westward, and 
 the breeze made soft music in the near-by trees. 
 There were clouds in the sky, but they floated 
 lightly, and seemed to give good cheer to the 
 scene. It was a pretty picture Rastus walk 
 ing slowly behind his plow, his thoughts far 
 away, and Lije leaning against the stone wall, 
 with a stern look on his face and his strong jaws 
 hard set. 
 
 " Whoa!" and once more the two men faced 
 each other. 
 
 "Well?" said Lije. 
 
 " What I want to ask you is this. You know 
 
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE. 2$ 
 
 what my religion has been to me and my fam 
 ily. We ve had our share of sorrer, and reely 
 I don t know what we would have done if it 
 hadn t been for Parson Jessig and his encour- 
 agin talk. Now I d like to ask you, honest, 
 Lije, if you don t think our faith was a good 
 thing for us? " 
 
 " Sartin I do, and I have never denied it." 
 " Then don t you wish you had some of it for 
 yourself, Lije? What s good for one is good 
 for t other." 
 
 " No, Rastus, that s where you re mistook. 
 I m glad you ve got religion, if you think it 
 helps you any. But I don t want any for my 
 self." 
 
 " You never wish you had it, eh? " 
 " No, never, Rastus, and that s flat. I don t 
 see the use of it. Believin what ain t so may 
 be very soothin , but I d rather believe what is 
 so, and stick it out without bein soothed. I 
 guess the truth ll stand, and I think I ve got it. 
 If you re satisfied, I m satisfied too. And if 
 
26 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 we re both satisfied, there isn t any more to be 
 said." 
 
 " Well, Lije, as long as health lasts, and 
 things work all right in the family, you won t 
 feel the need, perhaps, but sometime " 
 
 " Then I reckon I ll wait till the sometime 
 comes before I swaller what I can t understand." 
 
 So ended the conference. Lije went home 
 to his well-stocked barn, his rich farm, his 
 healthy boy and girl, and remarked to himself, 
 " I guess I -ve got about all that any reasonable 
 critter ought to ask for, and as for meracles and 
 providences and new births and them things, 
 well, it s all right if you want em, but I don t." 
 
 And Rastus went home that night, and as he 
 sat at the window in the cool of the evening, he 
 said to his wife : " Tildy, I don t think Lije is 
 very fur from the kingdom, but sometime he s 
 goin the rest of the way, and then I hope I ll 
 be here to walk by his side and cheer him on. 
 It s got to come, Tildy, just as sure as taxes." 
 
 Then he fell into a reverie. 
 
II. 
 
 LIFE ON THE FARM. 
 
 ELIJAH TOMKINS was in some respects a 
 model man in his family. He was a good pro 
 vider, as the New England phrase runs, a 
 tender-hearted husband, and an exceedingly 
 affectionate father. 
 
 His wife, Samantha, was the gentlest creature 
 imaginable ; there was nothing aggressive in her 
 nature. She would have lost her sleep, I think, 
 if she had ventured to contradict her liege lord. 
 He dominated, and she obeyed, with many a 
 sigh for sometimes her burden was heavy to 
 bear but without an audible murmur. For 
 years after their marriage her relations with 
 religious folk were well, she had none what 
 ever. The poor creature on one occasion, when 
 27 
 
28 THE FARMER ANQ THE LORD. 
 
 the children were in their teens, timidly ex 
 pressed a desire to hear preaching, for she had 
 been brought up by a Christian mother, and felt 
 the loss of the Sunday services; but Elijah 
 sharply reproved her. " Ain t you got no more 
 sense, Samanthy?" he said, in a very cold 
 blooded way, " than to hanker after them fairy 
 tales? If there is any God, can t you find Him 
 for yourself without j inin a picnic of pious 
 people, and listenin to some man who don t 
 know what he s talkin about? You ll get just 
 as much good settin under the old elm, and 
 hearin the wind in the branches, as by goin to 
 meetin . I kin get a mighty sight more." 
 
 She was rash enough to remonstrate for she 
 had grown desperate, and longed for that mys 
 terious something which comes into the soul 
 even when an unlettered preacher offers prayer, 
 and an untrained choir sings the praises of the 
 Most High and replied, half under her breath, 
 " Lije, if you do as you please in that matter, 
 why can t Mary and me do as we please? 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 2 9 
 
 Tisn t much to ask, I m sure." Then she re 
 lapsed into silence, and Lije slammed the door, 
 and went out to the barn to look at a new 
 horse he had bought. 
 
 After a little, however, his sense of fair play 
 for he prided himself on that overcame his pre 
 judices. "All right, Samanthy," he said, on 
 his return to the house, " you and Mary kin go 
 to meetin as much as you please. If it don t 
 do any good, p r aps it won t do no harm." 
 When explaining the concession to Rastus, 
 which he did in an apologetic way, as though 
 he had exhibited a radical weakness, he re 
 marked, " You see, Rastus, women is different 
 from us. We ve got the reasonin faculties, and 
 they ve got the imagination. Now it s neces 
 sary for every woman to worship somethin it 
 don t make any difference what, but it s got to 
 be somethin . I rather guess there s a strain of 
 the old pagan blood in em. We men have got 
 pretty nigh rid of it, but they haven t, and they 
 don t feel easy in their minds unless they ve got 
 
30 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 a idol. Now Samanthy can t make a idol out 
 of me, though she come close to it twenty year 
 ago, and so she makes a idol out of religion. 
 It s a kind of home pathy remedy, I reckon, 
 but she won t get none of it down my throat." 
 
 So there was a tacit agreement in the family 
 that Samanthy and the daughter Mary should 
 go to church, but Sam and his father were to 
 remain at home. 
 
 This Sam was a magnificent fellow to look 
 upon. Just six feet high, broad-shouldered, 
 big-hearted, and generous to a fault the sort 
 of boy to go wrong, by the way he was liked 
 by everybody. You should have seen him on 
 the big pond in the winter, when all the young 
 folks of the village went skating, for then he 
 was at his best. He was lithe as a willow 
 wand, and his muscles were like tempered steel, 
 and in a wrestling-match he had no equal. 
 Physically, he was a superb creature, just such 
 a one as a sculptor would have been glad to 
 get as a model. 
 
i LIFE ON THE FARM. 31 
 
 " Samanthy and Mary are pretty hefty on 
 theology, but Sam and me don t believe nothin , 
 so the family averages pretty well," Lije was 
 wont to say with a chuckle. " It s them against 
 us, and us against them. Bimeby, if the 
 women folks don t get tired of their nonsense, 
 we ll see how the thing turns out." 
 
 Late that afternoon, after the talk with 
 Rastus, Lije went into the kitchen, where the 
 goodwife was preparing supper. 
 
 " Samanthy," he began, " I ve been discussin 
 with Rastus, and I m hungry." 
 
 "What ll you have, Lije?" 
 
 " Guess I could get away with a bjowl of 
 bread and milk, if you have some." 
 
 " There s plenty, I guess. Just wait till I 
 put this pie into the oven, and I ll fetch it." 
 
 " Got any of that brindle cow s milk, have 
 you ? Seems as though that was a little richer 
 than the rest of it." 
 
 "Yes, there s a pitcher of it in the cellar." 
 
 As he crumbled the bread into the milk, he 
 
32 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 said : " Rastus was plowin up in the northeast 
 field, and he up and at me on the subject of 
 meracles, but I guess I give him as good as he 
 sent/ 
 
 Lije was in a rather amiable mood, and de 
 tailed the conversation at length. When he 
 had reached the end of his story, he turned to 
 his wife with a self-satisfied look, and said, 
 " Samanthy, do you know what I think would 
 be a real meracle? " 
 
 " No, I don t, Lije." 
 
 " Well, if you was to bake a loaf of bread as 
 heavy as what I ate at Rastus s last week, I 
 should think that was a meracle ; but you can t 
 do it." 
 
 Then he went to the window. " Hullo!" he 
 said, " the wind has shifted. It s come round 
 to the east ard. Them clouds look kinder 
 threatenin . Shouldn t wonder if we might 
 have rain to-morrow. Wall, it always comes 
 my way if I wait long enough." 
 
 Then a merry train of thought seemed to run 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 33 
 
 through his mind, and he broke into a fit of 
 quiet laughter with a touch of sarcasm in it. 
 
 "What s the matter with you, Lije?" asked 
 the wife, as she pulled the pie out of the oven 
 to see that the top crust didn t burn. "You 
 are havin a good time all to yourself." 
 
 "Do you remember, Samanthy, that durin the 
 drouth, mebbe two weeks ago, all you pious peo 
 ple prayed for rain? Say, have you forgot it? " 
 
 "Yes, Lije," she answered, in a quiet voice, 
 "we prayed for what we thought we needed." 
 
 " And you didn t get it, did you ? " 
 
 " No, we didn t get it, because, p r aps, after 
 all, we didn t need it." 
 
 " Didn t need it, eh? Why, the fields was as 
 dry as cork dust, and half the crops was actu 
 ally burned up. Don t tell me we didn t need 
 it, for we did, and the Lord knowed that just 
 as well as Parson Jessig did." 
 
 "We don t know everything Lije, though 
 some of us think we do." 
 
 " No, I reckon we don t know everything 
 
34 
 
 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 but we have sense enough to know when we 
 want rain, specially if we see whole fields of 
 potatoes wiltin in the sun. You can t get 
 round that. What s the use of bein a farmer 
 if you can t tell when your crops need water? " 
 
 Then again Lije began to laugh to himself. 
 
 "What are you doin now, Lije?" 
 
 " Oh, I was merely thinkin ." 
 
 " And what was you thinkin ? " 
 
 " It occurred to me that you folks down to 
 the church wasted your time prayin for rain, 
 when every weather-vane in the county was 
 nailed to the west ard. If you had waited till 
 now, and done you re prayin this afternoon, 
 you d a found the wind to the east when you 
 come out of meetin , and you d all said it was a 
 direct answer to prayer." 
 
 Sam came in from the woodshed whistling, 
 his cheeks ruddy with health, as though a stray 
 beam from some sunset had struck them. 
 
 " Hullo, folks ! " he exclaimed ; " going to rain, 
 isn t it?" 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 35 
 
 " How about them cows? " asked Lije. 
 
 " Cows are all right. Old Shorthorn gave 
 me a good chase for once." 
 
 " Did she, though? " 
 
 " Well, you d have thought so if you d been 
 there." 
 
 " It ll spile the milk if she run far. How did 
 it happen, Sam? " 
 
 " Why, you see Jerry Peters went with me to 
 the field with his dog, and helped to round up 
 the cattle ; and that dog took it into his head to 
 have some fun. So he began to worry Short 
 horn. He got a grip on her nose, and that 
 riled her. She just lowered her head, and 
 for about five minutes there was a regular 
 circus." 
 
 "But what were you doin , boy? Why 
 didn t you drag him off? " 
 
 "Wait till I tell you the story, father. I 
 looked into that cow s eyes, and they were like 
 a couple of lighthouses. I concluded that she 
 was able to take care of herself, but I felt kind o 
 
36 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 sorry for the dog. He didn t know what was 
 coming, but he won t worry any more cows." 
 
 " Why, did Shorthorn go for him?" 
 
 " The dog is under the impression that she 
 did; at least, he was under that impression at 
 the time." 
 
 " Was the dog hurt? " asked the mother. 
 
 " Considerably, I reckon. At any rate, Peters 
 went home minus the cur, and he did some 
 pretty tall talking, too." 
 
 "Did the cow strike him, Sam?" 
 
 "That s what I thought," replied Sam. 
 " She took him sidewise, hit him broadside, 
 and the horn went into him like a knife into 
 cheese. She threw him ten feet into the air, 
 and when he came down he didn t even yelp. 
 He just lay where he was, and he s there yet, 
 and will stay there until some one hides him 
 under the bushes." 
 
 " Poor dog!" cried Samanthy. 
 
 " Ought to have stayed to home," grunted 
 Lije. 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 37 
 
 " After that," continued Sam, " the cow was 
 nervous seemed as though she had St. Vitus s 
 dance ; and as I didn t care to have her try her 
 other horn on me, I kept at a respectful dis 
 tance. That cow ought to have been a bull, 
 and born in Spain ; she would have made a 
 reputation for herself. That s why I m late. 
 Where s the milk-pail, mother? I ve got lots 
 of chores to do, and I can smell that pie in the 
 oven. Well, Sis, where did you come from? " 
 
 Mary had burst into the room, crying, 
 "Mother, when ll supper be ready? I m as 
 nearly famished as a summer boarder. There ! 
 Don t worry about setting the table. Wait half 
 a jiffy till I get my hat and wrap off, and I ll be 
 with you." 
 
 It was the work of thirty seconds, and as she 
 reappeared Sam asked, " Where ve you been, 
 Sis? Come, confession is good for the soul, 
 provided you ve got the article ; so make a short 
 story of it." 
 
 "Been?" 
 
38 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Yes, been. Huckleberrying? " 
 
 " Not exactly," she replied, as she spread the 
 white table-cloth. " I don t tell all I know, 
 Sam," and she laughed merrily. 
 
 " Oh, I see. Having a stroll across the 
 meadow with George Brown, eh?" 
 
 " She needn t be ashamed of it if she has," 
 broke in the father, who was apt to take Mary s 
 part when she was being teased. 
 
 " All the same, I ve been doing nothing of 
 the kind," she replied tartly, as the blood 
 mounted to her cheeks. " A Christian En 
 deavor branch has been organized in the village, 
 and, and " she nearly dropped a cup and 
 saucer in her embarrassment " they chose me 
 chairman." 
 
 "Ha, ha! Sis," laughed Sam, " you re right 
 in it up to the chin, ar n t you ? I don t think 
 I ll take any, if it s the same to you. Here, 
 mother, hand me that pail. I want to get out 
 of this religious atmosphere. It is sort of suffo 
 cating." 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 39 
 
 " I don t think a small dose of religion would 
 do you any harm, Sam," Mary retorted; " just 
 a drop or two to warm you up, you know," and 
 she too began to laugh. 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! The best kind of 
 Christian Endeavor is right here in the kitchen, 
 keeping things shipshape. Praying is well 
 enough, I suppose, when you can t find any 
 thing better to do; but I reckon there s more 
 religion in milking Brindle without letting her 
 kick the pail over than you can pick up in the 
 wrangling churches of Woodbine. Tra la la, 
 Sis, and you d better spend an hour or two 
 thinking over what I ve said." 
 
 Off he went, a cheery, gay-hearted boy, with 
 the making of a man in him. 
 
 The father watched him as he swung with 
 long strides toward the barn, and said to him 
 self, " A chip of the old block ; Sam knows 
 what he s about, and I guess he can t be fooled." 
 
 Then he turned to Mary, who had set the 
 table and was ready for anything. 
 
40 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Darter, what is this Christian Endeavor 
 scheme, anyhow?" 
 
 He wanted to say, " What is all this humbug 
 about?" But that daughter was the apple of 
 his eye, and if she wanted to be a churchwoman 
 he would fight for her rights, though he hated 
 churches with a deadly hatred. 
 
 She sat in a chair at his side, and took the 
 old man s hand in a caressing sort of way. 
 
 "What do you want to know for, father?" 
 she asked, with a saucy look. " Shall I propose 
 you at the next meeting? Say, mother, 
 wouldn t it surprise folks if father should walk 
 in as a full-fledged member?" and she broke 
 into a merry laugh at the idea. 
 
 There was something sharp on his tongue, 
 but she put her hand on his lips and exclaimed, 
 " No, no, father ; I know what you want to say, 
 but you sha n t say it. What mother and I be 
 lieve is just as good as what you don t believe ; 
 so you will please keep still, or you won t have 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 41 
 
 any supper. I m a grown-up girl now, and 
 you ve got to behave yourself." 
 
 " Oh, I haven t nothin to say," he muttered, 
 while a pleased smile lighted up his rugged 
 face. " You pray, and I plow. You couldn t 
 plow, and I couldn t pray. That s all there is 
 to it. But what kind of a newfangled notion 
 is this ? What are you endeavorin about, any 
 way?" 
 
 " Well, listen, and if you scold me I won t 
 say another word to you as long as I live." 
 
 She liked to play the tyrant, and she did it 
 admirably ; so when she raised her finger as a 
 menace, he looked at her quizzically, but kept 
 as still as possible. 
 
 " You know," she began, " that there are a 
 good many poor people in Woodbine." 
 
 " Shiftless, you mean," he interjected. 
 
 "Will you keep quiet?" and she put her 
 hand on his arm as a warning. 
 
 " These poor people are having a terrible 
 
42 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 struggle to get along. Phil & Kuhn posted a 
 notice last month that business was dull, and 
 the mill would only run on half-time." 
 
 "Well, why shouldn t they?" growled Lije. 
 " They re not in the philanthropy business, are 
 they?" 
 
 " So there are hard times in the village, and 
 when winter comes they ll be harder. A month 
 ago Hiram Golf suggested " 
 
 "What, that cantin shoemaker?" 
 
 " The shoemaker without the cant," she re 
 plied sharply. " He suggested at a weekly 
 meeting that we organize a branch of the Chris 
 tian Endeavor, and do what we could to " 
 
 "What can a parcel of girls do, I d like to 
 know? 
 
 " Should do what we could to make life com 
 fortable for these folks. There isn t any harm 
 in that, is there? Now answer me, father." 
 
 But he had nothing to say. 
 
 " We make visits on those who are worst off, 
 and Mr. Jessig preached a sermon and took up 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 43 
 
 a collection two weeks ago. We got a snug 
 little sum. I didn t have any money with me, 
 but I told them that I had just as good a father 
 as any girl in the world ever had, and I pledged 
 you for " 
 
 "You what?" and Lije was fairly startled, 
 and began to frown. 
 
 "Why, I pledged you for five dollars." 
 
 " Well, I declare ! When you get that money 
 out of me, you let me know, will you ? Five 
 dollars for such trumpery stuff! Phew!" 
 
 " Look here, father, you don t want me to 
 go back on my word, and I don t intend to. 
 You ve got to pay that money, and it won t do 
 to make a wry face over it. Why, if you had 
 been there you would have subscribed ten." 
 
 "You don t know me, darter; I wouldn t 
 have done any such thing. Five dollars! 
 Phew! Do you think I m made of money?" 
 and he shook his head decisively. 
 
 There! You needn t be obstinate. You 
 will honor my promises, or you re not the father 
 
44 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 I take you to be. Have you got the money in 
 your wallet? Pull it out arid let me see. I 
 must hold up my end, or I wouldn t be your 
 daughter." 
 
 The old man squirmed, and moved restlessly 
 in his chair. "Five dollars! You ve been 
 terrible extravagant ! " 
 
 Mary looked him steadily in the face, and he 
 saw that she was determined. He put his hand 
 into his pocket and pulled out an old leather 
 purse. He wasn t accustomed to throw money 
 away after that fashion, and it came hard. 
 
 " Oh, what a roll of bills!" she exclaimed. 
 " I wish I had said ten." Then she picked out 
 a fresh five-dollar note and handed the rest 
 back, with, " You are a good father, and I m 
 proud of you. Ar n t you, mother? You 
 won t miss it, dear, and it will do lots of good. 
 Now we won t think any more about it." 
 
 Then came the call to supper, and Sam 
 sauntered in with his pail of milk. 
 
 " What do you think, Sam? " exclaimed Lije. 
 
LIFE ON THE FARM. 45 
 
 " Don t do much thinking nowadays ; it s 
 dangerous." 
 
 " Well, darter s just got five dollars out of 
 me." 
 
 " What did she do it with a corkscrew? " 
 
 " And she made me give the money to them 
 Endeavor fellows." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Yes, me, for sartin." 
 
 "Then the world s coming to an end." 
 
 The old man seemed to enjoy the situation 
 hugely. As they sat at supper, he broke out 
 with, "Jest think of me givin to a church! I 
 guess I must be in my dotage. Seems like I 
 was goin back on myself." 
 
III. 
 
 THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 
 
 ON a certain morning, some three weeks 
 later, Mary and the mother were very busy in 
 the parlor with dust-brush and broom. Ap 
 parently they were turning the room upside 
 down, rearranging the furniture, and trying to 
 make things look as cheerful as possible. They 
 both worked with willing hands, because, for 
 some reason, they wanted the room to look its 
 best. Evidently an unusual event was about 
 to happen. 
 
 Mary stood in the doorway to get a better 
 view, and critically inspected the tout ensemble, 
 
 " I don t know but it will do, mother," she 
 said at length, as she threw the dust-brush over 
 her shoulder like a soldier at the order to 
 4 6 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 47 
 
 " carry arms." " Let me see! Suppose we 
 run the sofa over to that corner, and put it 
 crisscross. Don t you think it would be an 
 improvement? " 
 
 " I dunno," replied the old lady, with some 
 hesitation. " It s always been right there, and 
 it might seem strange like to have it anywhere 
 else, don t you think or what do you think?" 
 
 " H m! let us try it. There s no reason why 
 it should be in one place forever. It will do 
 us all good to make a change, perhaps. Just 
 catch hold of that end, and we ll soon see 
 whether it will do or not." 
 
 "Well!" she exclaimed, after it had been 
 done, " I really think the parlor looks better. 
 I wonder we hav n t thought of that before. 
 Why, you d hardly know the room, would you? 
 Now I ll run out to the west pasture and get a 
 bunch of goldenrod for the mantel, and then I 
 guess there ll be nothing to complain of. By 
 the way, mother, have you anything special for 
 supper? " 
 
48 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " I ve got some cold lamb ; won t that do? " 
 "Do? Why, it s splendid. And then you ve 
 got plenty of jam that you made with your own 
 hands, you dear thing, and after dinner we ll 
 make some crullers. We ll have a supper fit 
 for a king." 
 
 " But your father, Mary? " asked Samanthy, 
 under her breath. 
 
 " Oh, you leave him to me. I ll take care of 
 him." 
 
 " He s very set, you know, Mary." 
 " Yes, and it s all right for a man to be set. 
 I like to have him so. But then I m set, too, 
 just a bit, deary, and I came by it honestly. 
 When father and I clash, it reminds me of the 
 problem I had in school : W r hen the irresistible 
 comes in contact with the immovable, what 
 happens?" Mary was in a cheery mood. 
 " Don t you worry about father. I m not half 
 as afraid of him as you are, and he isn t half as 
 terrible as you think he is. He s only a man, 
 and a man doesn t amount to much when he 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 49 
 
 has as tender a heart as father has. He looks 
 as stern as the Old Man of the Mountain up in 
 New Hampshire, but he isn t very awful, after 
 all." 
 
 "Oh dear, what s that?" Samanthy lis 
 tened intently, and there was just a shade of 
 pallor in her cheeks. " I do believe it s your 
 father, Mary." 
 
 "Well, what of it, dear? He isn t Blue 
 beard, and we are not in the forbidden chamber. 
 Let him come on. This rock shall fly from its 
 firm base as soon as I ! And she assumed a 
 threatening attitude, brandished the dust-brush, 
 and again broke into laughter. 
 
 The farmer was in the kitchen looking for 
 something. Of course he couldn t find it with 
 out help. A man can never find anything 
 without the assistance of a woman, and he is 
 forever under the impression that when some 
 thing is needed, whether it is a hoe or a rake or 
 a slice of bread and butter, it is the business of 
 the " women folks " to know just where it is. 
 
50 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 So Lije, who was on the still hunt for a monkey- 
 wrench, looked everywhere except where he 
 had laid it the day before, and then impatiently 
 called, "Mother, where are you? I say, Sa- 
 manthy, have you quit the house ? I want that 
 monkey-wrench, and I d like to know what 
 you ve done with it." 
 
 What she had done with it, forsooth! She 
 had never had any use for it, and didn t 
 know how to manage the thing! But the 
 man always says, " What have you done with 
 it?" 
 
 " Here we are, father," cried Mary, in her 
 most musical voice, and then she began to hum 
 a snatch of an old song, perhaps to keep her 
 courage up. A boy whistles just before an 
 emergency, and a woman hums. It is for the 
 same purpose in both cases. The object is to 
 reduce that swelling in the throat which pre 
 cedes a transaction about which there is more 
 or less uncertainty. 
 
 The old farmer stood in the doorway, and 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 51 
 
 gazed at the couple with astonishment. Then 
 he looked about the room, and his astonishment 
 increased. 
 
 "Hullo!" he exclaimed, "what does this 
 mean? Have you been lettin off a dynamite 
 boom here? Every thin has been blowed up. 
 What s that sofy doin over there, I d like to 
 know?" 
 
 "How do you like the change, father?" in 
 quired Mary quietly. " Don t you think it 
 looks better as it is now? Come, you d best 
 say Yes at once, for you won t get another 
 chance. We live in an age of progress, don t 
 you know, and I m a progressive woman;" and 
 she marched up and down the parlor like a 
 grenadier on dress-parade. 
 
 "Wall, I s pose I ll git used to it," said Lije, 
 resignedly, and he looked at Mary as though 
 she were worth her weight in gold. " It don t 
 make no difference whether a sofy is here or 
 there, I guess, so long s it s a sofy. But I 
 want that monkey-wrench. The carryall hasn t 
 
52 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 been oiled for a month, and I thought I d do 
 the job before dinner." 
 
 " It s in the east cupboard," answered Saman- 
 thy, " about where you put it day before yes 
 terday. I don t believe it s run away since that 
 time." 
 
 Lije turned to go. " Come back a minute, 
 father; I want you," said Mary. " Tell me, 
 don t you think the parlor is as pretty a room 
 as you ever saw? " 
 
 " It ll do, it ll do, but I want that monkey- 
 wrench." 
 
 " It s a nice room to have company in, isn t 
 it?" boldly broke forth Samanthy. 
 
 "Company?" and Lije was almost startled. 
 "What s up, eh?" 
 
 " Oh, nothin partic lar; only Mr. Jessig said 
 after service Sunday mornin that he was comin 
 in this direction to-day if it was pleasant, and 
 might just call in for a few minutes." 
 
 The women folks both felt happier when the 
 secret was out. Mary looked steadily at her 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 53 
 
 father, for she knew his moods, and had long 
 ago discovered that the easiest way to make 
 him bend was to state a fact bluntly. If he saw 
 that you were not afraid he was apt to succumb 
 to anything reasonable, but if you were timid it 
 seemed to rouse all the tyranny in the man s 
 nature. 
 
 " Parson Jessig comin here ! Well, that 
 beats all. What on earth do we want a parson 
 in this house for? Ain t you folks runnin 
 things pretty strong? Seems to me it s ridicu 
 lous. We ve lived here for twenty-six year, 
 and none of these cantin clergy has ever dark 
 ened my doors, and I tell you plainly that " 
 
 " Yes, father, and you are quite right. I 
 agree that a canting clergyman is about as 
 small a specimen as you can find anywhere." 
 
 " Yes, I always feel like settin Tige on em 
 when I see em," continued Lije. 
 
 " But Mr. Jessig isn t one of that kind, father. 
 He s just a whole-souled man, if ever there was 
 one, and I m sure you d like him." 
 
54 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Like him!" sneered Lije. " I hate him; I 
 hate the whole swarm." 
 
 Then Mary, who saw that the crisis had 
 arrived, used a fine bit of finesse. She broke 
 into a fit of laughter, danced about the room 
 flourishing the dust-broom, and then cried, 
 I ve got it, I ve got it!" 
 
 "Are you crazy, darter?" 
 
 " Not exactly, father, but I m about to try 
 an experiment, and on you, you precious old 
 skeptic. I guess I ll see whether you are going 
 to abuse all my friends. You mustn t do it, for 
 I won t stand it," and she quietly put both 
 hands on the old man s shoulders. It was 
 always half the victory when she could do that, 
 and it was always a serious emergency when 
 she had to do it. 
 
 " I m going " and she hesitated, but there 
 was a merry twinkle in her eyes. 
 
 " Goin to what? " asked Lije, who knew that 
 he was already hopelessly defeated, but tried to 
 make a show of opposition. 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 55 
 
 " Why, I m going to ask Mr. Jessig to stay 
 to supper, and you shall have a good talk with 
 him." 
 
 Lije was dumfounded : for a full minute he 
 couldn t catch his breath. 
 
 " Look here, darter, you re goin too far, and 
 I won t endure it." 
 
 " No, it s all fixed, and I expect you to be a 
 gracious host to a gracious guest, do you hear? 
 Now get all your chores done early, and come 
 in and put on your very best, I was going to 
 say go-to-meeting, clothes, and we ll have a 
 real jolly evening." 
 
 " Well, well, I guess it s about time for the 
 world to come to an end. What will Rastus 
 Brown say when he hears of these doin s? 
 Tears to me I m gettin into rather deep water: 
 first you make me give five dollars to these 
 Endeavorers, and now the parson is comin to 
 supper." 
 
 "Won t it be just splendid, though?" and 
 Mary clapped her hands in glee. 
 
56 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 Lije looked at her in a dazed sort of way, 
 and then, suddenly pulling himself together, 
 turned to go, saying, "Just find that monkey- 
 wrench, will you ? I want to get out of doors, 
 for I m pretty near chokin . I don t think I m 
 Lije Tomkins any more." 
 
 Mary, little saint as she was, saw the struggle 
 which the father had had with himself, and 
 almost pitied him, for it was only his love for 
 her that made him yield. With the impetuos 
 ity of a chivalric nature, she ran to him, put 
 her arms about his neck, and kissed him on 
 either cheek. 
 
 " You are not sorry, father, are you ? I 
 don t want to do anything that would offend 
 you." 
 
 "No, darter," he answered, " no ; have your 
 own way. P r aps it s best, after all." 
 
 For some reason he seemed to be overcome 
 by Mary s tenderness; but he instantly recov 
 ered, and exclaimed, almost sternly, " Give me 
 that monkey-wrench, will you ? I can t stay 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 57 
 
 here all day doin nothin ;" and in another 
 moment he was gone. 
 
 At about four o clock that afternoon Lije was 
 sitting in his accustomed seat in the kitchen and 
 feeling rather uncomfortable. He had on his 
 best suit, and was consequently like a fish out 
 of water. He was exasperated at the visit of 
 Jessig, and had given his consent as a matter of 
 sheer necessity. " Fellers who trade on super 
 stition," he used to say, " I don t want nothin 
 to do with em." He found a modicum of con 
 solation, however, in the clay pipe which he 
 pulled at with unusual vigor, sending angry 
 clouds of smoke to the ceiling. Samanthy and 
 Mary were upstairs " tidyin themselves up " 
 and getting ready to receive their visitor with 
 all possible formality. 
 
 As Lije glanced through the window he saw 
 two men in a Concord wagon turn in at the 
 gate. He didn t recognize either of them, for 
 they were partly hidden by the trees. He went 
 to the front door, however, to see what was 
 
58 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 wanted, when he exclaimed, in great surprise, 
 " Why, Sam, is that you, boy ? What s up, eh ? 
 Where did you leave the team?" 
 
 "Yes, I m right here, father," said Sam 
 cheerily, " and you can thank this stranger for 
 bringing me here." 
 
 " Well, well, I must say I don t understand. 
 Has anythin broke ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I had on a heavy load, you know, and 
 that off horse, Billy " here he sprang from the 
 wagon to the porch steps " was terribly ner 
 vous. I think you ll have to sell him, father; 
 he can t be depended on. We got across the 
 bridge all right, but that confounded mud-hole 
 at the foot of the hill is what brought us up all 
 standing. I told Tim to be careful and steer 
 clear of it, but the first thing I knew the wheel 
 went slump into it. Tim and I tugged away 
 with all our might, but Billy was in the dumps 
 and wouldn t draw." 
 
 " I ll sell him, for sartin," interjected Lije. 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 59 
 
 " I don t think we d have got home to-night if 
 it hadn t been for this gentleman. He tied his 
 horse to a fence, and then he and I put our 
 shoulders to that wheel, while Tim coaxed the 
 horses; but the thing wouldn t budge." 
 
 All this time the stranger was looking on at 
 the scene in an amused sort of way, and when 
 Sam referred to him in such pleasant terms he 
 made a gesture of deprecation. " It was noth 
 ing, I assure you. I was only too glad to be of 
 service." 
 
 "Where s your team now, Sam?" 
 
 " Oh, it s all right ; and it ll be here in half an 
 hour. You see, father, this gentleman noticed 
 that Tim only riled Billy and made him more 
 balky than ever. So he said to Tim, You 
 come here and try at the wheel, and I ll handle 
 the horse. I was brought up with such critters 
 as that. So he just took Billy by the bit, and 
 in about two minutes had got him into a rea 
 sonable frame of mind. Now then, he said, 
 
60 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 when I give the word you two do your best, 
 and Billy and I will help. I don t know what 
 he said to the horse, but he talked to him as 
 though he had been a horse himself some 
 time " at which the stranger chuckled heart 
 ily " and then of a sudden cried, Come, Billy/ 
 and yelled to us to give the wheel a hoist. 
 I thought the harness would snap, for those 
 horses pulled as they never pulled before, and 
 out of the hole came the wagon." 
 
 " Thank you, stranger," said Lije heartily. 
 " Tisn t every man would have done it, an 
 I m obleeged. I d ask you to come in, but the 
 women folks expects company." 
 
 " Well, I ll tell the rest if you please, father. 
 I knew I d be late for supper unless I hurried 
 up, and said so, when the stranger remarked 
 that he was coming my way, and would put me 
 down at the house. I told him the parson was 
 going to inflict himself on us for the evening, 
 and I had a curiosity to see what kind of a 
 monstrosity he was. I wanted to get home be- 
 
THE PARSON COMES TO SUPPER. 6 1 
 
 fore he arrived, so s to rig up and receive him 
 with all the honors." 
 
 Then father and son had a very merry two 
 minutes. Lije enjoyed Sam s criticism amaz 
 ingly, but the stranger seemed somewhat em 
 barrassed at the turn of affairs, and had just got 
 as far as " Excuse me, neighbors, but perhaps I 
 ought to explain " when Samanthy and Mary 
 appeared on the porch. 
 
 Samanthy actually ran down the steps in her 
 eagerness of welcome, exclaiming, " Well, how 
 do you do, Mr. Jessig? I m right glad to see 
 you. Come into the house, and Sam will put 
 the horse in the barn." 
 
 The secret was out. Then this stranger was 
 Jessig himself, the parson! For about thirty 
 seconds Lije looked at Sam and Sam looked at 
 Lije, but neither of them uttered a word. Then 
 Jessig broke into a fit of uncontrolled laughter, 
 in which everybody joined. 
 
 " This is a very pleasant introduction to your 
 family circle, Mr. Tomkins," he said, " and I 
 
62 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 have no doubt we shall get on very well to 
 gether." 
 
 The four went indoors, while Sam, making a 
 few remarks to himself in an undertone, led the 
 parson s horse to the barn. 
 
IV. 
 
 A HOT DISCUSSION. 
 
 THE incident just related seemed to place 
 Jessig and the farmer s family en rapport with 
 each other. It was referred to again and again 
 during supper, and both Sam and his father for 
 got their antagonism to all parsons, and treated 
 Jessig as they would have treated any other 
 neighbor who had chanced to call at the even 
 ing-meal hour. 
 
 The minister remarked, as he took his seat at 
 table, that he had had a hard day s work and 
 could get only a bite for dinner, so he must be 
 excused if he indulged in their good things 
 pretty largely. " A man with a perfect diges 
 tion," he said, with a smile, " has something to 
 be proud of, and if you will allow me I propose 
 to do ample justice to this delicious supper." 
 63 
 
64 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 That was a subtle compliment to Samanthy s 
 housekeeping, and she floated away into the 
 seventh heaven at once. Jessig entered heart 
 ily into the family life, asked concerning the 
 crops, and discoursed in a happy vein about the 
 care of cattle. He talked politics, related some 
 humorous experiences he had recently had with 
 the hands at the mill, and fairly won Lije s 
 heart. 
 
 I can t help regarding Jessig as a remarkable 
 and therefore a very exceptional fellow. He 
 was always the minister, but he never forgot 
 that he was also a man. He was willing to do 
 Christ s work in Christ s way, and was conse 
 quently satisfied with his little sphere in the 
 village of Woodbine. Most ministers want to 
 do Christ s work in their own way, and hunger 
 for a settlement over some rich and fashionable 
 parish. Jessig expected to go to heaven after 
 a while, but he was anxious to have as many go 
 with him as possible. He very seldom talked 
 about religion in set terms, but any one could 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 65 
 
 see by his bearing that religious manliness was 
 his strong peculiarity. 
 
 Moreover, he was tolerant of adverse opin 
 ions. How could it be otherwise when he had 
 associated almost daily with Hiram Golf, the 
 shoemaker, for over two years ? He had looked 
 forward to this visit to the farm, for Lije, as the 
 village folks said, was a hard nut to crack. 
 Besides, Jessig had more than once remarked to 
 himself that he was so accustomed to take reli 
 gious truths for granted that it would be an in 
 tellectual refreshment to come into contact with 
 a thoughtful man who doubted pretty nearly 
 everything and could give some reason for 
 doing so. 
 
 Hiram once said to him, " Parson, don t talk 
 religion too much. Just simply BE religious, 
 and yoVll give em an argyment they can t get 
 over." Jessig had never forgotten that, and he 
 adopted the sentiment as a policy. As a conse 
 quence, he was respected by that large class 
 which may be found in every manufacturing 
 
66 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 district, who do not take the trouble to have 
 religious opinions, and who look at churches as 
 the fad of many women and some men. 
 
 When Lije was out in the barn that afternoon 
 looking at the feed in. the corn and oat bins he 
 couldn t tell whether he was glad or mad at the 
 parson for coming. " I never was acquainted 
 with one of them pious folks who knowed 
 much," he said, in soliloquy; and as he had al 
 ways avoided personal interviews with clergy 
 men I shall not take any pains to contradict his 
 statement. " Let me see " he lifted the lids 
 of the bins " I guess there s cracked corn 
 enough for the horses to chew on for a fortnight 
 longer;" and then, with a chuckle, " I reckon if 
 I get that minister alone for half an hour I ll 
 give him one or two problems to chew on, too. 
 I ll mighty soon find out what sort of stuff he s 
 made of." 
 
 When the supper was over the women busied 
 themselves for a while with the dishes, Sam 
 went to see that the cows were all right for the 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 67 
 
 night, and the farmer and Jessig sat on the 
 porch. Lije filled his pipe. It was a superb 
 evening, and the last rays of sunset empurpled 
 the clouds in the west. A hazy atmosphere 
 covered the landscape, and nothing could be 
 heard except the last chirp of the birds for the 
 day and the drowsy hum of insects. 
 
 Lije was in a controversial mood. He was 
 like a war-horse chafing at the bit and pawing 
 the ground before a battle. Jessig intuitively 
 took in the situation, and calmly awaited devel 
 opments. He didn t propose to strike the first 
 blow, and so began to talk about the beauties of 
 nature. Lije grew restless, but soon eased his 
 mind by saying bluntly : 
 
 " Parson, I don t believe in your religion, an 
 I don t care who knows it." 
 
 That was the blast of the trumpeter calling 
 the sir knights to the tournament. 
 
 Well," replied Jessig quietly, " what of it? 
 You have a perfect right not to believe, and I 
 should be the last person to interfere with you. 
 
68 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 Everybody is bound to follow his own judg 
 ment, wherever it may lead." 
 
 " No, I don t believe in religion," continued 
 Lije defiantly, " an I don t think much of the 
 brains of them that do." 
 
 " Oh, indeed!" 
 
 "Yes, that s it exactly." 
 
 "Well, you are hardly fair, are you, farmer? 
 Aren t you a bit uncharitable? " 
 
 "Why am I?" 
 
 " Because you have no patience with a man 
 who doesn t think just as you do. That is what 
 you imply, isn t it? " 
 
 " Not as I know of I don t," and the response 
 was a bit sullen. " I d like to know how you 
 make that out." 
 
 " You say you have some very decided opin 
 ions on the subject of religion? " 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 " And you add that if any one has equally 
 decided opinions on the other side of the ques 
 tion he can t have a well-regulated mind. Ex- 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 69 
 
 cuse me, neighbor, but I don t think it s quite 
 nice of you to say that. For example, take my 
 own case. I believe a great many things that 
 you do not, but does it follow that I haven t 
 any reasons for my belief and that my brain is 
 out of order? " 
 
 " I can t see how any one can believe what 
 you are supposed to believe, an I ve always 
 said there was a lot of hypocrisy in it. " Lije was 
 desperate. 
 
 " Well, farmer, there are some things which 
 no man has a right to do, and one of them is to 
 insist that he is the only one in the world who 
 has got the truth. It strikes me that you have 
 too high an opinion of yourself when you say 
 that unless every one sees just what you see 
 there must be something the matter with his 
 eyes. Now my theory is very different from 
 that." 
 
 " Wall, how does it look to you, parson? " 
 
 "Why, I believe certain things, and you 
 don t. I know whv I believe them, and you 
 
70 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 know why you don t believe them. You ve got 
 brains and so have I. You want the truth and 
 nothing but the truth, and so do I. Now are 
 you going to call me a fool, or am I going to 
 call you a fool? If we do, then we are really 
 fools. But if we are honest men we shall hon 
 estly differ, and still maintain our respect and 
 love for each other. Now it strikes me that I 
 am a little fairer than you are." 
 
 Lije puffed at his pipe. He intended to give 
 the parson something to chew on, but the par 
 son had given it to him instead. However, he 
 wasn t through by any means. He shrewdly 
 turned the conversation, saying, " Now there s 
 my boy Sam. Isn t he about right, parson?" 
 
 " Yes, physically, he s a fine fellow. When 
 I saw him put his shoulder to the wheel of that 
 mired wagon, and the blood rush into his face 
 as he strained every muscle, I thought I had 
 never seen a finer example of manliness." 
 
 " He s got brains too," Lije hastened to add. 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt. I spoke of his body 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 71 
 
 because I have seen what he can do with it. I 
 haven t had an opportunity to see his mind yet, 
 but if mind and body are equal you may well 
 be proud of him." 
 
 " He flies off once in a while, as I wish he 
 didn t," and a shade passed over the farmer s 
 face ; " but that s only the wild oats which 
 everybody sows. I s pose I sowed a lot in my 
 time, but I don t happen to remember it. He s 
 got in with some fellows down in the village, 
 but he ll stiffen up in time and come out the 
 best foot forrard. Parson, you re right; I am 
 proud of him." 
 
 Jessig nodded approvingly. 
 
 " Now that boy was brought up on my 
 idees." 
 
 " Ah! " 
 
 " He had good schoolin , an is fond of his 
 books. But I said when he was born that he 
 shouldn t be hampered by any religious notions. 
 He should grow up just as natur intended, an 
 he has." 
 
72 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Yes ? And you are satisfied with the result ? " 
 
 " So far, I am. He hasn t an ounce of theol 
 ogy in his whole system, no pizen in his blood 
 of that kind. What he wants to do he does, 
 an what he don t want to do he don t do. 
 He s about as square as boys ever are, I guess, 
 an he ll learn after a while how to blaze his 
 way to a farm of his own." 
 
 Jessig was silent for a few moments; he was 
 pondering a very difficult problem, and hardly 
 knew how to manage it. At length, however, 
 he said, with apparent irrelevancy, " Farmer, 
 that s a fine field you have just over the hillside 
 yonder." 
 
 Lije was partly offended, because he thought 
 Jessig didn t regard his statements as worth an 
 swering ; but this yielded to the conviction that 
 he had given the parson a poser, and he couldn t 
 answer it. 
 
 " Yes," he said, but rather glumly, as he 
 looked in the direction of the field, " that s the 
 four best acres on the farm." 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 73 
 
 " Were they originally the best, farmer, or 
 have you made them so? " 
 
 " O parson, land isn t made rich except 
 in one way. Some plots are better n others, 
 but in this section of the world it s all poor 
 enough. If you want to get a crop you ve got 
 to put in the work. That field has cost me a 
 pile of trouble. It was pretty stony to start 
 with, but see how even the sod is now ; there 
 isn t a stone to be seen." 
 
 " But it has paid for the labor expended, has 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes, sartin. Still, there s one botheration. 
 The weeds grow like all possessed. I wish land 
 could be made that would raise wheat and po 
 tatoes but would kill weeds. No use, though. 
 If you want to get a first-class crop out of that 
 land, you ve got to stay up nights pullin 
 weeds." 
 
 " It s a curious law, neighbor, isn t it, that if 
 you don t watch the weeds you can t have your 
 potatoes or corn ? " 
 
74 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Yes, cur ous enough ; but it s the law, all 
 the same, an the sooner you re-cog-nize it, 
 an govern yourself accordin ly, the better off 
 you are. I don t believe in goin contrary to 
 law." 
 
 " Now tell me something, farmer, will you? " 
 
 "Sartin, if I can." 
 
 " Why do you interfere with the weeds ? 
 Why not sow your seed, and then just leave the 
 field to take care of itself? Haven t the weeds 
 as good a right to grow as the potatoes ? And 
 if you leave matters to take care of themselves, 
 will they or won t they do it? " 
 
 Lije looked at Jessig, but didn t see the faint 
 smile that was playing about his lips. He was 
 almost impatient as he said : 
 
 " Parson, you may be a very good preacher, 
 but you d make a mighty poor farmer. If you 
 had this land I guess you d be bankrupt in 
 about two year." 
 
 " Ah, yes, perhaps ; but you see I was just 
 thinking, neighbor Tomkins." 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 75 
 
 "Thinkin , was you? Well, your thinkin 
 don t amount to much if that s the best you can 
 do." 
 
 " I was very much interested in what you 
 were saying. You assert that if you don t train 
 your field, so to speak, by plowing and manur 
 ing, and if, after doing that, you don t keep an 
 eye on the weeds, you won t have any crop." 
 
 " Of course I do. Ask any farmer in the 
 county an he ll tell you the same thing. A 
 man might as well sell out before he begins, 
 unless he plows an manures an keeps at the 
 weed-pullin ." 
 
 " Wouldn t land grow a crop if you let it 
 have its own way, allowed it to do what its own 
 nature inclined it to do? " 
 
 Lije burst into a loud laugh. "Wall," he 
 said sneeringly, as though he would reprove the 
 parson for his folly, " don t you never buy a 
 farm, if you intend to act on them principles. 
 Better stick to the pulpit, for you wouldn t 
 earn your salt." 
 
76 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Oh, don t mistake me, neighbor; I entirely 
 agree with you in all you have said." 
 
 " You do, eh ? What for, then, have you 
 been puttin such foolish questions? Seems 
 rather queer, doesn t it?" 
 
 " No, I think not," and Jessig had a very 
 thoughtful air. His voice was low and calm, as 
 it always was when he was in deadly earnest. 
 " No, farmer, I think not ; but I was wonder 
 ing why you believe in educating your field 
 and don t believe in educating your son." 
 
 Lije saw the point of the discussion at last, 
 and looked at Jessig in a dumfounded sort of 
 way. 
 
 "There s a big difference," he muttered, 
 " between a potato-field and a boy." 
 
 " Oh yes, a very big difference, since it is a 
 thousand times more important for the boy to 
 go right than for the field to do so. I can t 
 quite see why weeds won t grow in the boy s 
 life just as they do in the field unless you keep 
 a good lookout for them. When I was a 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 77 
 
 youngster it took all the influences that could 
 be brought to bear to keep me straight. If I 
 had been brought up on the policy which you 
 seem to think best I don t know what would 
 have become of me." 
 
 The farmer was cornered, and he knew it. 
 He was just saying, " Don t worry about Sam ; 
 he ll square up by and by," when Samanthy and 
 Mary came upon the porch. 
 
 "We ain t disturbin you, are we?" asked 
 Samanthy timidly. 
 
 " No ; I was thinkin it was about time for 
 you to come," remarked Lije courteously, and 
 I rather think he felt greatly relieved. A few 
 minutes later Sam appeared, and the little circle 
 was complete. 
 
 The conversation ran on very pleasantly for 
 an hour after that, and everybody seemed to be 
 happy. All sorts of subjects, from the latest 
 fashions in bonnets to the comet which had just 
 been discovered, were touched upon, and Jessig 
 was on the point of saying that he must be 
 
78 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 going home, when Lije, who wasn t exactly satis 
 fied with the result of his controversies, returned 
 desperately to the fray. 
 
 " I had a set-to with Rastus Brown the other 
 day on meracles, parson. I guess he thinks 
 there are such things, but I hear from the 
 papers that the best students nowadays have 
 kind of given em up." 
 
 Jessig was*not at all eager for a dispute, for 
 he wanted the visit to end as pleasantly as it 
 had begun, but at the same time he didn t in 
 tend to shirk one. He failed to make answer 
 for a moment, long enough for Sam and his 
 father to exchange glances, and Mary and Sa- 
 manthy to move uneasily in their chairs. 
 
 " What do you say, parson? " and the farmer 
 seemed like a toreador trying to madden the 
 bull in the arena by pricking him with the point 
 of his spear. 
 
 " Oh, it s a large subject," said Jessig at 
 length, " and the stars are out, and I must go 
 home." 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 79 
 
 Lije thought he had found a weak spot in 
 Jessig s armor, and if that were so he didn t pro 
 pose to let him off. " I ve thought a good deal on 
 the matter," he said, " an I can t find no reason 
 for em at all. Can you ? " 
 
 The minister saw that he was in for it, and 
 that he must either fight or run. So he settled 
 himself quietly in his chair, saying : 
 
 " Neighbor, what do you mean by a mir 
 acle?" 
 
 " Somethin that s teetotally ag in natur , 
 that s what I mean." 
 
 " Then we needn t have any discussion, for I 
 entirely agree with you," he responded. 
 
 " You do ? Wall, I m glad of it. You don t 
 believe in them meracles in the New Testament 
 then, I reckon? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I do," was the quick answer. 
 
 "Ain t they ag in natur ?" asked Lije. 
 
 " I think there is a little confusion between 
 us," said Jessig. " Suppose we clear it up so 
 as to see what we are driving at. What do you 
 
80 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 mean when you say that a miracle is against 
 nature? " 
 
 " I mean that a meracle goes ag in all the 
 laws of natur . Isn t that plain enough, par 
 son?" 
 
 " Not quite," said Jessig. "Do you mean 
 that a miracle contradicts all laws of nature, or 
 merely those with which we are familiar? If 
 we were thoroughly acquainted with the whole 
 range of nature, and then something should be 
 said to occur which was contrary to our know 
 ledge, I think we should be justified in doubt 
 ing it ; but if an occurrence is based on as good 
 testimony as any other fact of history, I think 
 we should hesitate to reject it simply because 
 nothing of the kind has ever happened in our 
 own experience. Our experience is somewhat 
 limited, and it is dangerous to say that this, 
 that, or the other thing can t possibly have 
 occurred." 
 
 " But raisin a dead man to life is ag in what 
 you know anythin about, isn t it, parson? " 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 8 I 
 
 " Certainly it is. But if a dozen or a hundred 
 persons were present and saw it done, and we 
 have their testimony to that fact, we must do 
 one of two things : either deny the fact for no 
 other reason than that we were not there our 
 selves to see it, or else admit it on the evidence, 
 and account for it by a range of laws which we 
 as yet know nothing about. Or possibly we 
 might not try to account for it at all." 
 
 "That would be pretty slim reasonin ," re 
 torted Lije. " The best way is to brush all 
 them things aside an stick to your common 
 sense. I guess I ve got you there, parson," and 
 Lije was triumphant. 
 
 "Now I ll tell you somethin ," he continued. 
 " The other evenin , while we was in the kitchen, 
 darter here read a story about them Indian 
 jugglers. It seems that one of em stood out 
 in front of the crowd with a long rope in his 
 hand. All to once he twirled, the rope round 
 an flung it straight up in the air. One end 
 didn t come down, an after a minute or two 
 
82 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 the juggler climbed up that rope hand over 
 hand, an then pulled the rope up after him. 
 He threw it up ag in, an that time climbed up 
 clear out of sight." 
 
 " Rather odd, wasn t it? " remarked Jessig. 
 
 "Odd! Why, parson, that was a meracle," 
 and he laughed; "just such a meracle as you 
 say you believe in." 
 
 "But you don t believe it, farmer?" 
 
 " Wall, no, I guess not ; but it s just as rea 
 sonable as the stuff the people is told is real 
 history." 
 
 I think Lije was profoundly happy while tell 
 ing this story, for he was sure that the parson 
 could find no way to crawl out. 
 
 " Your illustration," said Jessig, after a little, 
 " is admirable. I doubt if a better one could 
 be found. Now suppose that this juggler were 
 here to-night, and should disappear in the air in 
 the same way, and you should see it with your 
 own eyes, what would you say? " 
 
 " I guess he would be so astonished that 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 83 
 
 he wouldn t say anything," interjected Sam. 
 " He d think he had brain-fever, and put for 
 his bed." 
 
 " It would be a meracle, parson, wouldn t it? " 
 
 " To whom would it be a miracle?" asked 
 Jessig. 
 
 "Wall, I reckon to everybody who saw it," 
 sneered Lije. 
 
 " No, not exactly," remarked Jessig. 
 
 The little company all turned toward Jessig, 
 for his statement was somewhat remarkable. 
 
 " No," he repeated, " not exactly. It would 
 be a miracle to as who were looking on, and 
 didn t understand how it was done ; but to the 
 man who did it and understood how he did it it 
 would not be a miracle at all." 
 
 " Everything" persisted Lije, "goes by law, 
 an what s ag in law is ag in common sense." 
 
 " Precisely, and nothing has ever happened 
 that contravened a law. Now that juggler hap 
 pens to be acquainted with a law that we know 
 nothing about, and in accordance with that law 
 
84 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 he throws the rope, and the end stays in the air, 
 and he can climb up to it. Admitting the fact 
 that the juggler performs this feat, as we all 
 should do if we were to see him do it, I still 
 insist that it is no miracle according to your 
 definition, for it isn t contrary to law, but in ac 
 cordance with a law which we don t know." 
 
 " Then I reckon you d say that the curin of 
 a deaf *man was not ag in law, would you?" 
 
 "Most assuredly," was the answer. "Jesus 
 Christ, as the Son of the God who made all law, 
 was not likely to do anything that would show 
 that His Father s laws didn t cover every possi 
 ble emergency. I can t conceive of Christ as 
 doing anything that was not strictly in accor 
 dance with law." 
 
 " Healin the palsied by a touch," snapped 
 Lije. 
 
 "Yes, even that," was the quiet response. 
 " And, farmer, I believe the time is coming, and 
 is not far distant, when a whole new realm of 
 psychological law will be discovered, just as 
 
A HOT DISCUSSION. 85 
 
 Columbus discovered America, and when the 
 miracles of Christ will be repeated on the earth. 
 That is going far, I admit, and many will not 
 agree with me, but I believe it. I call these in 
 cidents of New Testament history miracles sim 
 ply because I have no better word to express 
 my idea of what happened. But a miracle is 
 merely something which some one does who 
 knows more about law than I do. Suppose one 
 of our grandfathers should come down here for 
 a while, and see you stand at one end of a wire, 
 and be told that you were talking to a man in 
 Chicago, and should hear his voice in answer to 
 your question. He would call that a miracle, 
 and to him it would be one. But to us who 
 have studied the problems of electricity, and 
 know what it can do, it would be no miracle 
 at all, only a commonplace, every-day affair. 
 When we know more, my friends, we shall 
 be able to do more. The age of miracles is 
 never over, for everybody lives in it. What 
 were miracles yesterday are not miracles to-day, 
 
86 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 and what are miracles to-day will not be so the 
 day after to-morrow." 
 
 There was silence for a time in that little 
 household. The mother and daughter were 
 serenely happy, but I think that Sam and his 
 father were not equally pleased. 
 
 " I have had a charming time," said Jessig, as 
 he rose to go. " I don t know when I have had 
 so delightful an evening. And, farmer, you 
 will pardon me if I have seemed to be over- 
 earnest. I hope I have given you no offense. 
 What we are all after is the truth, and I want 
 to say that I have been instructed by our long 
 chat. Come and see us, all of you. The latch- 
 string is always out." 
 
 Ten minutes later Jessig drove out into the 
 summer night with very agreeable memories of 
 this little family circle. 
 
V. 
 
 THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 
 
 How sensitive love is to the loved one s 
 moods! A young Hungarian, who is a fine 
 musician, used to visit me during the long win 
 ter evenings, and he always brought his violin 
 with him. He couldn t have left the instrument 
 at home any more than he could have left his 
 heart there. When he went for a stroll in the 
 country, even, he carried the violin with him, 
 because it was part of himself. It was his in 
 timate companion and friend, and he was on 
 the most confidential terms with it. Instead of 
 talking to himself, as many people do, he played. 
 Indeed, he could express himself by music bet 
 ter than in any other way. Words were poor 
 vehicles for his thought, but when he had the 
 bow in his hand and the violin under his chin, 
 87 
 
88 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 he could converse in a way that I entirely 
 understood. His frame of mind showed itself 
 by musical tones, and the moment he touched 
 the strings I caught his mood. 
 
 Sometimes he was hilarious, and then the 
 notes would trip through the air like so many 
 fairies having a wild dance. There was laugh 
 ter in every vibration, and I could see that his 
 soul was bubbling over with merriment. At 
 other times he was in a fit of the blues, and not 
 even the bright skies and the flowers and the 
 twittering of the birds could make him feel that 
 life was worth anything. Then how different 
 the strains he called forth!- The notes seemed 
 to be full of anguish and doubt and timidity and 
 fear. They trembled, just as he was trembling 
 in his mind and heart, and if he had talked for 
 an hour he could not have made his mood more 
 plain to me. 
 
 There are a thousand ways in which we ex 
 press ourselves, and I often think that words are 
 the poorest of them all. Especially is this true 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 89 
 
 of people who have lived long together, and 
 whose love has remained pure and fresh. They 
 find a significance in a footfall, in a posture, in 
 a glance, or in a gesture. A woman may com 
 municate a great many things by the way she 
 walks across the room, for a joyous walk is very 
 different from a sad walk, and the step of a 
 person who is pondering is not the step of a 
 person who has nothing disturbing on her 
 mind. 
 
 Love can tell by the inflection of the voice 
 that the lover is not at ease with himself, and 
 the wife does not know what love means who 
 needs to have her husband say that things are 
 going right or wrong. She knows by his tread 
 on the gravel walk long before he reaches the 
 house, and by the quality of his voice, even 
 when he makes an effort to conceal his thoughts. 
 Nothing can be hidden from an intuitive nature, 
 especially if one has lived with a person many 
 years and knows exactly how he is accustomed 
 to do things. 
 
9O THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 So Lije knew that Samanthy was unhappy. 
 As he sat in the kitchen that chill November 
 morning he watched the good woman. He 
 couldn t have told you why he thought she was 
 troubled, but it was perfectly evident that she 
 was. There was a difference in the way in 
 which she lifted the lid of the stove to put a 
 fresh bit of wood on the fire, and in which she 
 opened the oven door to see if the bread was 
 baking all right. 
 
 He puffed away, but for a while said nothing. 
 For that matter, he didn t wish to say anything, 
 because when a man and wife have mutually 
 discovered something disagreeable they are apt 
 to conceal it from each other as long as possible. 
 Lije suspected that Samanthy knew just what 
 he knew, but he hesitated to talk about it, and 
 felt even timid, for he dreaded the effect. At 
 last, however, unconsciously Samanthy heaved 
 a sigh, and going to the window, stood there 
 buried in her thoughts. 
 
 Lije watched her for a minute or two, and 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 91 
 
 then determined to make a clean breast of the 
 whole thing. 
 
 "Samanthy!" he said. 
 
 " Yes, Lije, what is it? " but she didn t turn 
 her face toward him. She still looked out of the 
 window, but saw nothing except what was in her 
 own heart. 
 
 "What s the matter, mother?" He always 
 called her " mother " in their tenderest moments. 
 
 "Oh, nothing Lije; just nothin at all." 
 
 "Yes, mother, somethin s botherin you." 
 
 " I didn t sleep well last night, Lije, an I 
 never could stand a broken night. I don t see 
 how it is, but when I can t sleep I get restless 
 the next day. That s all ails me, I reckon." 
 
 "No, Samanthy, you don t use me fair," 
 persisted Lije. " There s somethin partic lar 
 weighin on your mind, an I know it." 
 
 " O Lije, you re always gettin up a scare 
 about me, an " rather petulantly " I wish 
 you wouldn t. There! just go out an split 
 some wood, an I ll tend to my oven, or that 
 
92 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 bread ll be burned to a crisp," and she made a 
 sudden dash for the stove. 
 
 " I say, mother, you can get along without 
 wood for the next half-hour, an I don t care a 
 button if that loaf of bread is burned to a cinder. 
 I ve got somethin to say to you an you ve got 
 somethin to say to me, an we may as well say 
 it an have it over." 
 
 Samanthy drew herself up and stood face to 
 face with her husband, a wild, imploring look in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Mother, tell me!" and Lije laid his pipe on 
 the table. The crisis had come, and could no 
 longer be postponed. 
 
 " What shall I tell you, Lije? " 
 
 " Is it about " then a short pause, and with 
 a slight tremble in his voice he repeated himself, 
 " is it about Sam? " 
 
 The dear woman couldn t say Yes. She 
 merely bowed her head and looked the picture 
 of despair for an instant ; then, burying her face 
 in her hands, burst into a flood of tears. 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 93 
 
 "So I thought! So I thought!" and Lije 
 suddenly became rigid and stern. 
 
 " I don t know what we can do, Lije. Mary 
 an I have prayed for him over an over again, 
 but it don t seem to do any good. He s goin 
 wrong, an it appears like as though nothin 
 would stop him." 
 
 "There isn t a doubt that he s goin wrong," 
 said Lije bitterly, " an I reckon you must do 
 somethin better than prayin for him. That s 
 all folderol." 
 
 " He s got in with those city boys," moaned 
 Samanthy, " an last night when he come home 
 he was " no, she couldn t utter that word, but 
 she sobbed as though her heart would break. 
 
 " Was you awake, mother, when Sam came 
 home?" 
 
 " Yes, Lije, an it was pretty near midnight." 
 
 " I heard him," said Lije quietly and sadly. 
 
 "Were you awake too, father?" 
 
 "Yes, it happened so;" and Lije shook his 
 head. 
 
94 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 It happened so! How unwilling a man is 
 to show any deep emotion! The truth is, Lije 
 hadn t slept half an hour all night. He was 
 made of steel in every other part, but he had a 
 heart of flesh. There had been rumors for a 
 month that Sam had got into bad company. 
 The farmer discredited them for a while, but it 
 very soon became evident that there was some 
 truth in them. Sam had neglected his work, 
 and found an excuse nearly every evening to 
 go to the village. His whole bearing had 
 changed. 
 
 It is curious that the world is so made that 
 coasting downhill is frightfully easy, and drag 
 ging the sled uphill is frightfully hard ; but we 
 must face facts. Sam was coasting downhill at 
 a terrible rate, but the father at first thought 
 it was only a youthful spasm and would soon 
 wear off. At last, however, affairs assumed a 
 very serious aspect. Sam began to throw out 
 hints that farm drudgery didn t suit his tastes, 
 and talked pretty freely of going to the city and 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 95 
 
 starting some business wherein he could make 
 more money. The old man grew anxious, but 
 until now had kept his anxiety to himself. 
 
 " Wall," he said, in a defiant way, " we ve got 
 to meet things when they come, an now this 
 has come." 
 
 Just then Mary entered. At a glance she 
 saw that Sam was the subject of discussion, but 
 went over to the cupboard and pretended to be 
 very busy with the dishes. 
 
 " I can tell you one thing," said Lije, and the 
 lines about his mouth grew hard. 
 
 "What s that, Lije?" 
 
 " I don t propose to have my home broken 
 up by anythin of this kind, that s what." 
 
 "But what can we do, father?" And I 
 think if you had seen the mother s face at that 
 moment it would have broken your heart. 
 
 "Do? I ll tell you what I m goin to do. 
 Neither Sam nor any one else shall spile your 
 life, Samanthy. You come first, I guess, an 
 Sam comes next. If he wants to go to the city, 
 
96 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 then to the city he shall go. An if he wants 
 to go to the devil it isn t none of my busi 
 ness." 
 
 " Father!" And Mary, as white as a snow 
 bank, stood face to face with the old man. 
 " You don t mean anything of the kind, and you 
 know it." 
 
 " I ll soon show you what I mean," he an 
 swered, and his voice was like the ring of chilled 
 steel. " I ve brought that boy up the best I 
 know how. When you an me are gone, 
 Samanthy, the farm will go to him an Mary, 
 an there ll be land enough for both of em. 
 He can step right into my shoes an run the 
 concern as I have run it. If he don t want to 
 do that, an has got a lot of newfangled notions 
 about the city, he won t be no good here. 
 Farmin amounts to nothin when a man don t 
 like to farm it. I ll give him enough to start 
 him in business, if that s what he s after, an 
 then he must shift for himself. But as for havin 
 him round here, spilin the peace of my family, 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 97 
 
 I won t do it. He s got to go, whether he likes 
 it or not." 
 
 " You wouldn t throw poor Sam out in the 
 world as he is now, father?" And Samanthy 
 went over to where the old man was sitting. 
 She trembled in every limb, and there was hor 
 ror in every line of her face. " You couldn t do 
 it; no, no, you couldn t do it." 
 
 " You ll see whether I can or not," he replied. 
 " This household is goin to be kept just as it 
 is; an if Sam isn t satisfied, he must pack up 
 his belongin s an go somewhere else." 
 
 " But what would become of him in the city, 
 father? " cried Mary. " He doesn t know any 
 thing about city ways, and with his present 
 habits he would surely be lost." 
 
 " That s his affair," and Lije looked for the 
 moment like a tyrant. 
 
 "Look here, father." Mary took a seat in 
 front of Lije, and rested her arm on the table. 
 She dared to say anything to the old man, for 
 she had inherited his courage, and now she de- 
 
98 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 termined to meet the emergency, to brave the 
 tempest, and to stand up for the poor boy. He 
 should not leave that house, where there were 
 protecting influences, and be thrown upon the 
 tender mercies of strangers in a city full of 
 temptation, if she could help it. 
 
 " Look here, father," she repeated. " Sam is 
 not only your son, but my brother. It would 
 just kill mother to have him sent away, and it 
 shall not be done. You are not in your right 
 mind. A person can be drunk on anger as 
 well as on liquor, and you are so angry that you 
 don t know what you are saying." 
 
 The mother put her face in her apron, and 
 cried, " Lije, father, don t say such things. 
 He ll get over it after a while. If you use him 
 rough that will be the end of him, for he s just 
 like you, an won t stand it. Leave him to 
 Mary an me. We can bring him round, an 
 he ll be just as good as ever." 
 
 " Let me tell you, father," broke in Mary, 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 99 
 
 " just how this thing began, and then you will 
 understand it better." 
 
 " I don t want to know how it begun ; it s 
 enough to know how it is now, an I won t 
 stand it. Do you s pose I m goin to see that 
 woman cryin herself to death because this boy 
 must have whisky ? Isn t she as much to me as 
 he is, I d like to know? An isn t it my duty 
 to look after her first of all? " 
 
 " But you won t look after her, father, by 
 driving Sam away," and Mary was by this time 
 calm and cold as an icicle. She had herself 
 well in hand, and every word was made to tell 
 like the impact of a bullet. " On the contrary, 
 you will kill both mother and me if you pursue 
 this course. It is bad enough to have Sam 
 give way to bad habits at home, where we can 
 look after him, but how much worse it would 
 be to have him in the city, where he might get 
 sick, with no place to go to but the hospital ! 
 Sam is a good boy, and he has noble qualities. 
 
100 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 It is on account of those very qualities that he 
 has fallen." 
 
 " That is simply ridic lous," sneered Lije. 
 " How can a man drink because he s a good 
 fellow, an disgrace himself an his family be 
 cause he s a good fellow ? I guess you bor 
 rowed that nonsense from Parson Jessig." 
 
 " Sometime in September," continued Mary, 
 " two young men with plenty of money came to 
 the village, and put up at the hotel. They 
 were here, they said, for the shooting season, 
 and you know the woods back of us are famous 
 for partridges. Well, they were out with their 
 team one day over there by the sawmill. I 
 don t know how it happened, but the horses 
 took fright and ran. They were dashing along 
 the road at breakneck speed, and right ahead, 
 where there wasn t room for two teams to pass, 
 was John Perkins with a load of lumber. There 
 would certainly have been a terrible accident if 
 Sam hadn t been there. He is as strong as a 
 lion, you know, and he can run like a deer. 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. IOI 
 
 He saw how matters stood, and saw John Per 
 kins s team this he told me himself and knew 
 that it would be sure death to some one unless 
 those horses were headed off. Without think 
 ing of any danger to himself, he made a dash, 
 stumbled, but managed to catch himself, and 
 got hold of the team when it was not more than 
 ten rods from the lumber-wagon. That was 
 what occurred, and at that moment, father, we 
 all had reason to be proud of Sam, for there 
 isn t another fellow in the village who could 
 have done what he did. 
 
 " Well, of course the men who were saved 
 were grateful ; and well they might have been. 
 But their gratitude was the beginning of every 
 thing that has befallen. If Sam had been a 
 coward, or even if he had lamed himself when 
 he stumbled, he might be working on the farm 
 now, with no thought of anything else. But 
 simply because he was strong and brave the 
 temptation came in his way. 
 
 " Then these men insisted that he should go 
 
n^tV H, 
 
 102 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 to the hotel with them, and he did so. They 
 overwhelmed him with praise, and then ordered 
 a bottle of champagne to celebrate his daring 
 and their rescue. Sam had no scruples about 
 drinking, and as the taste of the wine was plea 
 sant he drank too much. 
 
 " After that they invited him to go partridge- 
 shooting with them, and of course he neglected 
 his work here. He was fascinated by the 
 strangers. They wore such good clothes, 
 owned such fine guns, seemed to have more 
 money than they knew what to do with, and 
 talked far above the poor boy on all subjects. 
 No wonder his head was turned, and no won 
 der that milking cows and doing chores grew 
 irksome to him. If it had all ended there noth 
 ing serious might have happened. But it didn t. 
 They were fond of him, and wanted to make 
 him like themselves. So they very soon got 
 away from the light wines and took to whisky. 
 Champagne was simply their show drink, but 
 whisky was what they liked ; so Sam learned to 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 103 
 
 drink whisky. Then came games of chance, 
 and soon it was convenient to take a private 
 room over the saloon at the corner, and there 
 the revels were held, and the ruin of Sam ac 
 complished. 
 
 " That is the whole story, father. Sam is 
 under a glamour. He is a good boy, but he has 
 been hypnotized. These city fellows are very 
 much the same to him that the fabled genii are 
 to the child who reads fairy stories. He will 
 come to himself by and by, but it will never do 
 to treat him harshly, for he is as stubborn as an 
 oak knot, and you will only make him worse." 
 
 "To think," cried Lije, " that a son of mine 
 should fall into such disgrace ! It s too much to 
 bear!" 
 
 But all the same the old man was affected by 
 the recital of Mary. 
 
 " Your story is well enough, but where is this 
 thing goin to stop?" he asked. "Are we to 
 stand it right along? " 
 
 " We are going to do all we can to save 
 
104 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 him," Mary replied, "and then leave the rest in 
 the hands of the Lord." 
 
 " Humph! Things have got to a pretty bad 
 pass when you have to call on the Lord for 
 help. What do you want me to do about it 
 keep still? Perhaps you d like me to go to 
 work prayin too. A good deal better to cut a 
 tough birch rod for him, accordin to my way 
 of thinkin ." 
 
 " I want you to talk to him, father a man 
 will have more influence than any woman ; but 
 you must talk kindly." 
 
 " I guess I ll use the English language on 
 him in a way he won t forget," retorted Lije. 
 
 " Then you ll spoil everything, and had better 
 leave him to mother and me." 
 
 "Yes, an a lot you could do!" 
 
 " You must treat him as you would a sheep 
 that has gone astray and broken its leg." 
 
 "Well, I d just kill the sheep," cried Lije, 
 "an make mutton of him." 
 
 But the family talk did Lije a deal of good. 
 
THE FARMER IS ANGRY. 105 
 
 He didn t know much about handling such an 
 affair with gentleness, but it dimly dawned 
 upon him that Samanthy and Mary had the 
 right of it. 
 
 As he went out to the woodpile, he muttered 
 to himself, " There s no understandin women 
 folks anyway. They d try to reform the devil 
 if they had a chance. Why, when I come across 
 a stump in my wheat-field, do I sit down an l 
 say, Mr. Stump, you know you don t belong 
 here anyway, so please pick yourself up an 
 get over the fence ? Or do I call on the Lord 
 to pick that stump up an carry it away? 
 Well, I guess not. I just drill a hole in it, an 
 put a lot of gunpowder there, and blow the 
 tarnal thing to smithereens. But there, they 
 are goin to try the religious dodge on Sam, 
 an he ll be wuss off than ever when they get 
 through. I don t believe it ; but there isn t any 
 good in resistin em. So let em go ahead." 
 
VI. 
 
 LIJE FINDS HIS SON. 
 
 FOR a couple of weeks after this family con 
 ference Lije seemed to be extremely restless. 
 He was anxious about Sam, for, so far from any 
 improvement, the poor boy was evidently going 
 from bad to worse. The father had remonstrated 
 with him two or three times, but he listened sul 
 lenly and without answering a word, then started 
 for the village. The mother had pleaded with 
 him, but he rebuffed her bruskly ; and when 
 Mary one morning tried to tell him how mat 
 ters stood at home, he brushed her aside with 
 an insulting remark about girls who meddle 
 with other people s affairs, and left the house. 
 
 The family were driven fairly frantic by the 
 terrible calamity that had come upon them. 
 And why not? There is something a thousand 
 1 06 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. 1 07 
 
 times worse than death something in compari 
 son with which death seems to be a trivial inci 
 dent. What could happen to a mother, a ten 
 der-hearted, conscientious, prayerful mother like 
 Samanthy, worse than to see her only son, the 
 pride of her middle life and the hope of her old 
 age, rushing down the steep of dissipation, know 
 ing all the while that he is endowed with splen 
 did qualities, and be powerless to stay his 
 progress ? 
 
 As for Lije, I think those awful days made 
 him older by ten years. There was a sudden 
 stoop to his shoulders ; he went about his work 
 in a dazed sort of way ; and if you spoke to him 
 he would look you blankly in the face as though 
 he had not been listening to what you said. 
 There was also a certain drag in his walk, a list- 
 lessness of manner, and a far-away expression 
 in his eyes. 
 
 Many a time the meal hour passed without a 
 word, as though some magician had struck them 
 all dumb. They ate little and slept little, and 
 
108 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 were under constant apprehension. At any un 
 usual noise the old man would start, the good- 
 wife would turn pale, and Mary s eyes would 
 brim with tears. 
 
 No one knows the weight of a sorrow like that 
 until he is called upon to bear it, and then he 
 thinks of that passage of Scripture, " Like as a 
 father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth 
 them that fear Him." The women found some 
 slight consolation in their religion ; but as for 
 Lije, well, " If the light that is in thee be dark 
 ness, how great is that darkness!" It was un 
 mitigated and hopeless gloom which surrounded 
 him. Like the old Greeks, he believed in fate 
 and nothing else, and so set his teeth together 
 to bear misfortune with a stout or a defiant 
 heart ; but a stout heart under such circum 
 stances is a poor crutch to lean upon, and defi 
 ance is only another name for added misery. 
 
 One night they were all sitting about the 
 kitchen fire, Samanthy trying to knit, but losing 
 a stitch every now and then, Mary pretending to 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. IOQ 
 
 read, but constantly losing her place, while Lije let 
 his pipe go out. The clock with a sharp twang 
 struck ten. Lije went to the door " to look out 
 into the night," he said, but in reality to look 
 down the road to see if Sam were coming. 
 
 " Father," said Samanthy timidly, " do you 
 know what time it is ? " 
 
 There was no answer. Perhaps the old man 
 didn t hear her. 
 
 " It s long after ten," she continued. 
 
 "Yes, I know it, mother." 
 
 " Hadn t we better go to bed, Lije?" 
 
 He stood there for a minute as though mak 
 ing up his mind. Then he said, with unusual 
 tenderness, " Mother, you an Mary had better 
 say good-night. There ain t any use in wear- 
 in yourselves out." 
 
 Then he came back into the room, and began 
 to put on his coat. 
 
 " What s the matter, father? " and Mary went 
 up to him, and, putting her arms round his neck, 
 kissed him. 
 
HO THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " I guess there ain t nothin the matter," he 
 answered, but his voice was broken. The dear 
 old fellow was for a moment like an oak-tree in 
 a tempest. He could stand opposition and not 
 move a muscle; he had had it all his days, and 
 it did not affect him in the least. But when the 
 girl put her arms round his neck, father and 
 daughter understood each other, and he came 
 near breaking down. It was a pathetic picture, 
 but there are many such in our strange human 
 lives. 
 
 "What are you puttin on your coat for?" 
 asked Samanthy, in alarm. 
 
 " Sam hasn t come home, has he? " said Lije 
 desperately. 
 
 There was silence. 
 
 "An you don t know where he is, do you? 
 or what he is doin ? " 
 
 Again silence. 
 
 "Well then, I m goin to tackle up the horse 
 an drive down to the village an find out." 
 
 " But, father!" they both cried at once. 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. \ \ \ 
 
 " Don t say nothin " and there was a harsh 
 determination in his tones " cos it won t do no 
 good. I ve stood this sort of thing till I can t 
 stand it any longer. You two folks are wearin 
 your lives out, an I m goin to put an end to it 
 one way or another. You just keep quiet, an 
 in an hour or so I ll bring Sam home if I can 
 find him." 
 
 He was gone. They could hear his heavy 
 footfalls on the gravel as he strode to the barn, 
 and in less than ten minutes he drove out of the 
 gate. They watched him, for he had a lantern 
 in the wagon, and his last words were, " Don t 
 worry till I come back, folks ; I ll bring Sam for 
 sure." 
 
 They listened with strained ears until they 
 heard the rumble of the wheels as Lije drove 
 over the bridge at the foot of the hill, and then 
 went back into the lonely and desolate house. 
 
 Lonely and desolate indeed ! And if mother 
 and daughter fell into each other s arms, tear 
 fully praying that the dear Lord would be with 
 
112 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 the boy as He was with the prodigal of other 
 days, and turn his mind from the husks which 
 he was eating to the old home once more, need 
 we think it strange? And as we contemplate 
 that spectacle, the father driving with a heavy 
 heart toward the village, the women weeping 
 and watching in the farm-house, the destiny of 
 a boy hanging in the balance, do we not send 
 our prayers also on a mission to heaven in com 
 pany with theirs? 
 
 For myself, I feel assured that a band of soli 
 citous and helpful angels were about the old 
 man, though he was unconscious of their pres 
 ence and would have laughed the statement to 
 scorn. The angels, however, do not desert one 
 because he cannot believe in their existence, 
 and in that calm night Lije s mission was looked 
 upon with curious interest in the other world, 
 and many a helping hand was extended which 
 he could not see. 
 
 If our religion is anything more than a myth 
 these things are true, and if there is any heaven 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. I I 3 
 
 at all the loved ones who live there neither for 
 get us nor are neglectful. 
 
 The boundary line between the two worlds is 
 merely imaginary. We may not cross it to visit 
 the dear ones, or, rather, we do not yet know 
 whether we can or not, and therefore never do 
 it, but they certainly can cross it to come to us. 
 They came to Christ, as is recorded, in many 
 instances, and I sometimes wonder if even His 
 spirit, bowed down as it was with grief at times, 
 could have borne so heavy a burden if they had 
 not " ministered unto Him." The word " min 
 istered " implies need of help on His part, and 
 the help was sent. May it not be the same with 
 us? Nay, must it not be the same? 
 
 But Lije couldn t see them, and did not know 
 that they were there. So he drove on in a very 
 desperate frame of mind, wondering what the 
 next hour would bring forth ; he determined, 
 though, to treat his son tenderly, but had made 
 up his mind at the same time to take him home 
 with him at any hazard. 
 
114 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 First of all, he drove to the hotel. No one 
 was there except the night-clerk, and he was 
 busy adding up a long column of figures. After 
 a little he said, without looking up, and suppos 
 ing the comer was a belated guest, " You ll find 
 a candle at the farther end of the hall; good 
 night!" Then, as the supposed guest did not 
 move, he looked up, and, recognizing Lije, ex 
 claimed, " Hullo, Mr. Tomkins! I thought it was 
 some one else. Aren t you out late? What s 
 the matter? Anybody sick ? Can I do anything 
 for you? " 
 
 Lije didn t know how to say what he wanted 
 to say. If he asked directly for information 
 concerning Sam there would be an implication 
 of something having gone wrong with the boy, 
 and he wouldn t admit that to a stranger for 
 worlds. So he replied : 
 
 " No, nothin the matter, I guess. Family as 
 well as usual. Don t need any doctors up our 
 way. I was just drivin home, an thought I d 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. \ \ 5 
 
 call an save Sam a long walk, that s all. I 
 rather guessed he d be here." 
 
 The clerk thought a minute. It made no dif 
 ference to him where Sam was or what might be 
 come of him. He was simply clerk in a hotel, 
 and everything outside the hotel might take care 
 of itself. 
 
 " No, Mr. Tomkins, I haven t seen Sam to 
 night. Don t believe he s upstairs with the 
 other fellows, for I haven t heard any racket. 
 You d better try down to Bob s ; he s most likely 
 there." 
 
 So Lije turned and went out without even 
 saying "Thank you." "Bob s!" he exclaimed. 
 " That s a queer place for my son Sam, for sure. 
 Why, Bob keeps a liquor-hole, the wust place 
 in town, an I reckon a good many of the mill 
 hands have started downhill from his bar. An 
 they do say that gamblin is goin on there every 
 night. An my son Sam is there? Don t be 
 lieve it could be much wuss than that." 
 
Il6 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 How still and quiet the village was ! It was 
 close upon midnight, and nearly every light was 
 out. The villagers lived up to the old rule about 
 early to bed and early to rise, and by ten o clock 
 generally were between the sheets; but there 
 was one house that had not closed "Bob s." 
 Thitherward Lije wended his way. It was just 
 round the corner, not forty rods from the hotel, 
 and when Lije came in sight of it he heard up 
 roarious laughter coming from the upper rooms, 
 and his heart sank. As he stood for a moment 
 after tying the horse, he muttered to himself, 
 " I ve never believed in any hell, but pears to me 
 I m pretty close to one now, an " he clenched 
 his fists " if Sam is there I ll fetch him out." 
 
 He opened the door of the saloon and stepped 
 boldly in. It was the first time he had ever 
 been in such a place, for he was very strict in 
 his habits and had lived an entirely temperate 
 life. The barkeeper knew him because it was 
 his business to know everybody, but, suspecting 
 that something had gone wrong, did not give 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. 117 
 
 him a very cordial welcome. There were half 
 a dozen men of the baser sort seated round the 
 stove, most of them in a maudlin state. 
 
 Well, farmer," said Bob, as soon as he re 
 covered from his surprise, " what can I do for 
 you ? You won t have a glass of warm whisky, 
 eh? I can make you a punch that will drink 
 itself ; what do you say ? " 
 
 Lije paid no attention to the offer, but said 
 quietly, " I was to meet Sam an take him home. 
 He isn t here? " 
 
 " Well, farmer, if you and he have any agree 
 ment between you, I guess you ll find him up 
 stairs. From the noise I judge the meeting 
 hasn t broke up yet. Just take the door to the 
 right, and after that you ll find your own way." 
 
 Lije was as stern as a shaft of granite ; but 
 there was a volcano inside of him which it would 
 have been dangerous to tamper with. One of 
 the group about the stove attempted to make a 
 joke, but Lije looked at him merely looked at 
 him, and said nothing, and the fellow hushed at 
 
Il8 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 once. Then he strode across the saloon, opened 
 the door indicated, and went upstairs. 
 
 There was a sound of revelry which guided 
 him. Songs of rather doubtful character were 
 being sung in chorus, but the voices were thick 
 and husky. The door was ajar, but Lije pushed 
 it wide open with his foot and walked into the 
 room. The sight was appalling. The three 
 young men were seated at the table, on which 
 were two empty whisky-bottles. The air was 
 redolent of mingled liquor and tobacco smoke, 
 and a very lively game, which Lije afterward 
 learned was poker, was in progress. Sam s back 
 was toward the door, and of course he did not 
 see his father, and, moreover, he was in such a 
 befuddled condition that he didn t even hear the 
 intruding footsteps. 
 
 For perhaps a minute Lije stood there, and 
 so absorbed were the players that they didn t 
 notice his presence. 
 
 " Hullo! there s nothing in the bottle," cried 
 one. " No, no, you won t play until we send 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. 119 
 
 down for something to drink. I ve got a power 
 ful thirst on me to-night." 
 
 " Go ahead with you, Sam," cried the other; 
 " it s your lead, and I m going to get your pile 
 before you go home, mind that!" 
 
 " Sam will not throw a card down till I get my 
 whisky," exclaimed the first speaker. " Here, 
 Jim," mistaking Lije for the barkeeper s atten 
 dant, " fetch up one more, and charge it to Sam. 
 I guess he can afford to pay for it to-night, for 
 he s pretty well cleaned us both out. Why," and 
 he shook the bottle, " here s enough for a couple 
 of swallows. I ll toss up to see who shall have it. " 
 
 Just then he looked up and caught sight of 
 Lije. "Well, old man," he sang out, "glad to 
 see you. Sit right down and take a hand. 
 Where did you come from anyhow, and who 
 are you ? Don t know you, but glad to see you ; 
 take a drink," and he turned the whisky into a 
 tumbler, rose unsteadily, caught Lije by the arm 
 with the familiarity of a drunken man, and tried 
 to put the liquor to his lips. 
 
120 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 Lije at that moment resembled my idea of one 
 of the prophets of Israel when a storm of anger 
 swept over him. He could hardly remember 
 what happened when he spoke to me of this in 
 cident a year afterward, for, as he said, it all oc 
 curred so quickly, and he was in such a state of 
 fury, that there wasn t time for it to make any 
 impression on his mind except after the manner 
 of a dream. But there are certain details which 
 I have reason to believe are true. 
 
 When the man offered him the tumbler Lije 
 made a motion which was intended to simply 
 brush the fellow aside ; but there must have been 
 more energy in his arm than he knew of, for the 
 man staggered across the room backward, trying 
 at every step to recover himself, and then fell in 
 a heap on the floor. Angered beyond control 
 at his repulse, and partly sobered, he regained 
 his feet, grasped one of the empty bottles, and 
 made a vicious blow at the farmer s head. Lije 
 was, however, too quick for him. The bottle 
 flew out of the fellow s hands, and, hitting the 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. 121 
 
 stove, was smashed into a thousand pieces. 
 Quick as thought, Lije grasped him by the col 
 lar with one hand and by the leg with the other, 
 and literally hurled him down that flight of stairs. 
 Lije declares that he doesn t recall the fact very 
 vividly, but admits that he grappled with the 
 man, and that something happened immediately. 
 The man himself, however, has a more distinct 
 recollection, and entertains no doubt whatever 
 as to the way in which he was treated. 
 
 You would think that such an occurrence 
 must needs occupy some little time, but not 
 more than three minutes elapsed between the 
 ascent of Lije to the room and the man s descent 
 from it. 
 
 Sam heard the tussle, but for an instant 
 thought nothing of it. Then, slowly turning to 
 see what the fuss was about, he caught sight of 
 his father, whose blazing eyes were fixed on his 
 boy s face. Sam s soul got the mastery over the 
 liquor he had swallowed, temporarily at least, 
 and, springing to his feet, he cried : 
 
122 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " My God ! Father, where did you come 
 from?" 
 
 The voice was full of anguish, and so affected 
 was Lije by it that his whole mood changed ; he 
 lost his anger, and in its stead was a profound 
 pity for that poor lad who had gone so far astray. 
 
 " I came from the farm, Sam," he said, in quiet 
 tones, " and I want you to go home with me." 
 
 " Can t go home as I am now," Sam replied, 
 as the liquor once more asserted itself; "can t 
 think of presenting myself in this condition to 
 the women folks. Sleep here to-night, and I ll 
 go up home in the morning." 
 
 Of course I can t give his exact words, for they 
 were terribly tangled and were uttered with spas 
 modic effort, but that is what he tried to say. 
 
 The father, however, would listen to nothing 
 of the kind, and after half an hour, by dint of 
 force and tenderness, of mingled coaxing and 
 threats, Sam was hoisted into the wagon and 
 Lije began the sad journey home. 
 
 The father said not a word during that long 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. 123 
 
 ride. Sam tried once or twice to ask a question 
 in his maudlin way, but Lije answered nothing. 
 If you could have seen his face, stern and yet 
 pitiful, you would not have forgotten it, I am 
 sure. At last Sam saw that it was vain to try 
 to draw the farmer out, and saying, half under 
 his breath, " Don t seem to be talking much, do 
 you?" he also relapsed into silence. So Lije, 
 busy with some of the most terrible thoughts 
 that ever agonized a human mind, drove on in 
 the dark night, a few stars shining on his way 
 and the clouds scurrying along in the frosty sky. 
 
 As Lije helped Sam up the narrow staircase 
 to his bedroom the women stood together in the 
 parlor door, pale, tearful, and trembling. It was 
 as though some one were bearing a dead body 
 to the second floor. They clung to each other 
 convulsively for mutual support, and when the 
 last footfalls died away they took their places 
 on the sofa to wait the father s return. 
 
 It was a full half-hour before he came down. 
 He felt the situation too deeply for words, and 
 
124 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 so gave no account of what had occurred. At 
 length Mary, in a half-whisper, said : 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 " Well, darter, what is it ? " 
 
 " You don t believe in God, dear, but after all 
 it s possible that there is one." 
 
 He turned his face toward her with an inquir 
 ing look. 
 
 " And if there should be one, as mother and 
 I believe there is, He knows how our hearts are 
 breaking about Sam." 
 
 Lije remained silent. 
 
 " And it would do no harm, father, if before 
 we go to bed we just kneel down and pray to 
 Him to help us bear our trouble and to help 
 Sam to become a man again. You won t say 
 no, father, will you? " 
 
 " Do what you please," he answered brokenly ; 
 " it s all beyond me. I don t know nothin about 
 nothin ." 
 
 And in that little best room Mary and her 
 mother knelt, and, be it confessed, Lije knelt too, 
 
LIJE FINDS HIS SON. 125 
 
 and, burying his hard face in his hard hands, gave 
 forth a great sob, such a sob as only despair and 
 utter helplessness can furnish. 
 
 Mary prayed. It was only a short prayer, but 
 how much of pleading was in it ! She spoke to 
 God as though He was nigh at hand, and her 
 simple language was full of trust and confidence 
 in that Power which can accomplish all things. 
 
 As they rose the old man s eyes were wet. 
 The reaction had come, and he was as weak as 
 a child. 
 
 When Mary kissed him he said tremblingly, 
 " Darter, you are an angel if ever there was 
 one. Good-night, dear girl, good-night. Come, 
 mother, we must go to bed." 
 
VII. 
 
 THE NEXT MORNING. 
 
 THE next morning the farmer was up at the 
 usual time, four o clock. The breakfast hour 
 was six- thirty, and as the little family sat down 
 Sam s vacant chair spoke volumes. Of course 
 there had been very little sleep on the part of 
 any one except that of the boy, who slept 
 heavily and stertorously. 
 
 After breakfast Lije gave the three hands 
 their stint for the day. He didn t want them 
 about the house at that particular juncture of 
 affairs, and so sent one to cut wood in a distant 
 part of the farm, another to a neighbor who was 
 putting up a barn, and the third with the ox- 
 team to the grist-mill seven miles away. 
 
 I think that with the morning the old hard 
 126 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 12 J 
 
 
 
 feeling came back into his heart. He couldn t 
 understand how a boy of his could yield to such 
 a temptation. Having an iron will, it was impos 
 sible for him to appreciate the position in which 
 Sam found himself. Besides, there were the 
 mother and daughter. How they were suffer 
 ing! He didn t think of his own misery, the 
 agony he was passing through we must give 
 him full credit for that but the women folks, 
 he thought, had more than they could bear, and 
 he was almost convinced that harsh measures 
 were absolutely necessary. It was in his mind 
 to tell Sam plainly that he must either stop at 
 once and go back to his farm work or leave the 
 house and find some employment elsewhere. 
 
 My own feeling is that the ideal man is half 
 woman. That is to say, he must have a sym 
 pathetic side to his character as well as a stern 
 side. But Lije had only the latter. He had 
 fought his way in the world, had been very sav 
 ing all his days, had denied himself many com 
 forts in order to get the farm free from debt and 
 
128 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 
 
 lay up a moiety for his old age, and the process, 
 as is always the case, eliminated the tender feel 
 ings he naturally possessed, and made him cold 
 and unable to see why others should fail where 
 he had held his own. 
 
 Moreover, he was to a certain extent ostra 
 cized on account of his religious opinions, and 
 that made him at times terribly bitter. We 
 haven t reached the millennium of charity yet, 
 and it is hard to feel that there isn t something- 
 wrong about a man who differs radically from 
 us in his opinions. We can t quite believe that 
 he is honest ; at any rate, there is an impression 
 that there is moral turpitude connected with het 
 erodoxy. Lije felt this, and, although his neigh 
 bors were neighborly to a certain extent, there 
 was a mysterious something in their bearing 
 which angered him. 
 
 So he couldn t even tell himself how he would 
 treat Sam when they met. He would face the 
 boy with his disgrace and put the matter plainly 
 before him without flinching, but his course after 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 1 29 
 
 that would depend on the way Sam took it and 
 what he proposed to do. 
 
 It was nine o clock before the boy made his 
 appearance, and it was evident that he was con 
 scious of his guilt and felt humiliated by it. 
 
 " Good-morning, Sam," said Mary, as he 
 opened the kitchen door ; " are you ready for 
 your breakfast? " 
 
 " Rather late, I guess," he answered, in a 
 doleful voice. 
 
 " That s no matter; I can have you a nice 
 cup of coffee in two minutes, and mother ll fry 
 the buckwheats in two minutes more. Sit right 
 down." 
 
 But it was terribly hard work for any one of 
 the three to be cheerful. 
 
 " Don t know how I came to oversleep my 
 self. Can t remember much of what happened 
 last night, but I must have been in a pretty bad 
 condition, I reckon." 
 
 He forced a laugh, but there was no good 
 cheer in it. 
 
130 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 "Where s father?" he asked, with some 
 timidity. 
 
 " Doin the chores, dear," replied the mother; 
 and she added, unfortunately and because she 
 really didn t know what to say, " shall I call 
 him? " 
 
 " For heaven s sake, no," broke forth Sam. 
 " I haven t much appetite, you see. Don t trou 
 ble about the cakes, mother ; this cup of coffee 
 is all I want. I m kind of nervous and unstrung, 
 and perhaps it will brace me up." He gulped 
 down the coffee, and said, " Now I ll go up to 
 my room for a while and lie down." 
 
 As he passed out he turned to his mother. 
 " If father wants to see me, as I suppose he will, 
 you can tell him where I am," and he disap 
 peared. 
 
 Do you know I have a very tender spot in my 
 nature for a fellow like Sam? I don t believe 
 that even a mother can feel as badly about a boy 
 who has gone wrong as the boy feels about 
 himself. When Sam went upstairs he despised 
 
THE NEXT MORNIXG. \ 3 I 
 
 and hated himself. I am not sure that he 
 wouldn t have got away with himself if the fatal 
 drug had been at hand. The sufferings of a 
 man who has yielded to drink and lost his self- 
 control and self-respect are something terrible, 
 and when Sam sat down on the edge of the bed 
 he looked the very picture of despair. 
 
 There was a knock at the door. 
 
 "Come in!" Sam recognized that knock, 
 and put his teeth firmly together. 
 
 Lije entered, took his seat on the opposite 
 side of the room, and for a minute looked at the 
 boy without saying a word. 
 
 " Well, father, I ve been expecting you, and 
 I suppose you ve come to handle me roughly." 
 
 " Don t you deserve it? " 
 
 "Yes, I guess I do." 
 
 " You have dishonored a respectable family, 
 an ought to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 " I reckon most folks would say so, and espe 
 cially mother and Mary ; but I can t see why 
 you should," 
 
132 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 "I, Sam! what do you mean? Can t I see 
 that you are spoilin your life? " 
 
 " Yes, perhaps you do; but what of it? My 
 life is mine, isn t it? And can t I do what I 
 please with my own? " 
 
 " But you are bringin the whole family to 
 sorrow, boy." 
 
 "What of that, father? Why need they 
 worry about me? Let them live their own 
 lives in their own way, and let me live mine in 
 my own way. I don t see why I should do 
 what they want me to do, especially as I don t 
 ask them to do what I want to do." 
 
 The old man became excited at this point. 
 He was dumfounded at the audacity of the boy, 
 and yet it was plain that Sam was thinking 
 along certain lines which appeared to him to 
 be justifiable. In other words, he didn t talk 
 for the purpose of excusing himself, but for the 
 higher purpose of defending himself. Lije was 
 on his feet, and his eyes blazed with uncon 
 cealed astonishment. 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 133 
 
 " Suppose I do drink and suppose I do gam 
 ble, whose business is it except my own? " cried 
 Sam, in desperation. 
 
 " Have you thought of the consequences, 
 Sam? You ll ruin your constitution." 
 
 " All right; it s my constitution, not yours." 
 
 " You ll break yourself all up, boy, an in ten 
 years you ll be in your grave." 
 
 " Without doubt, father. Everybody must 
 die sometime, and what are a few years more 
 or less anyhow? Life isn t worth so much to 
 me that I care to take special care of it. While 
 I do live I might as well make a merry time of 
 it, and when the end comes, why, let it come. 
 I don t care." 
 
 " Look here, Sam, what s happened to you ? 
 You didn t use to talk in this nonsensical way." 
 
 "It s not nonsensical, father; it is philosoph 
 ical." 
 
 " Well, you beat me, Sam. I don t see where 
 you got them idees. Just see, boy, what there 
 is in your futur , if you behave yourself." 
 
134 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Won t you tell me, father, for I confess I 
 don t know? " 
 
 Sam went to the window and looked out ; 
 but nothing that he saw interested him, neither 
 the sky nor the fields nor the flowing river in 
 the distance. He was entirely occupied with 
 his own gloomy thoughts. 
 
 " Don t you know, Sam, without my tellin 
 you? Your mother an I won t live long; in 
 the course of natur we can t ; then the farm is 
 yours to carry on. There s an honorable an 
 a profitable life before you, an , I don t doubt, 
 a great deal of happiness, if you don t fling it 
 away." 
 
 " You draw a pretty picture, father ; but I 
 don t think I like it." 
 
 " An you ve got the prospect of marryin the 
 prettiest girl in the village an havin a family 
 of your own." 
 
 "No, I haven t," snapped Sam, as he turned 
 and faced his father, with a strange look on his 
 face. 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 135 
 
 "You haven t? Why not?" 
 
 " Because she s given me up." 
 
 " Sophy Perkins given you up? " 
 
 " Yes ; last week, and she did right too. I 
 don t blame her a bit. Now then, what is there 
 for me to live for? All this beautiful picture 
 you draw is mere stuff." 
 
 "You don t mean it, Sam," and there was a 
 gleam of pity in Lije s eyes. 
 
 "Yes, I m sacked." Sam ran his hands into 
 his pockets, and flushed crimson. 
 
 " I guess we must see about that," retorted 
 Lije. "But then, I s pose " 
 
 " And you will suppose correctly, father. 
 There is no reason why she should marry a 
 drunkard that I know of, and I m pretty nigh 
 to one, I guess. But who cares? What incen 
 tive have I to lead what you call an exemplary 
 life? Do you know of any? " 
 
 " What kind of thinkin , Sam, have you been 
 cloin , I d like to know, to lead you astray 
 like that? Have the fellows you ve been asso- 
 
136 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 ciatin with put that kind of reasonin into your 
 head?" 
 
 "No; we haven t discussed the subject," re 
 marked Sam very doggedly. 
 
 " Where did you get it then tell me that? " 
 
 " Why, to be entirely frank, I got it from you, 
 father." 
 
 " Me? Me, Sam? Are you crazy? Did I 
 ever gamble or drink ? Haven t I been econom 
 ical an reg lar all my life? " 
 
 " Yes, you have ; but it s been in spite of your 
 belief, father. Now listen to me, and I ll tell 
 you something you don t know, but something 
 it is time you did know. Let us talk squarely, 
 father. How was I brought up? Like other 
 boys? " 
 
 "Why, Sam" 
 
 " Now don t interrupt me. I ve waited a 
 good while to have my say, and I m going to 
 have it. After that you can turn me out of the 
 house if you see fit. I know what you have been 
 thinking about, father, and I ll pack up if you 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 137 
 
 say so, and go to the city or go to the devil or 
 both; it makes mighty little difference to me." 
 
 Lije grew pale. There was something on his 
 son s mind, and he didn t like the looks of it. 
 I think he trembled ; possibly there was fear in 
 his heart, for it was evident that this was no 
 mere outburst of passion on the boy s part. 
 
 " Did you teach me as a youngster to believe 
 in God? On the other hand, you told me there 
 isn t one. I have noticed that the people who 
 believe in God have something or other in their 
 lives that restrains them. You needn t look 
 twice to see that. What it is I don t know, but 
 it s something. Now I never had that ; so I 
 reasoned that if there is no God then there s no 
 obligation to do as He wants me to do. I am 
 left to go my own way, and if things don t turn 
 out well it s my fault, and if I want to pursue a 
 certain course and take the consequences, why 
 shouldn t I ? There is nobody to reckon with, 
 nobody to bring me to account, so I do as I 
 please." 
 
138 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Hold up, Sam" 
 
 " I will not, father. Wait till I ve done, and 
 then you can talk as long as you please. You 
 taught me that what is called religion is a pack 
 of lies, and that most of the folks who accept it 
 are fools. All right. I haven t got any religion, 
 and here I am. It s not my fault, it s yours; 
 and if I m not what you wish me to be you have 
 yourself to blame ; for if there isn t any God and 
 if there isn t any religion and if there isn t any 
 hereafter, why shouldn t I gratify every appe 
 tite and passion ? Why shouldn t I get what I 
 can, and keep what I get ? And if I want to 
 make a joke of my life, what s to hinder? " 
 
 " But your honor, Sam, your honor, boy! " 
 
 " Honor! What s honor but a name? Why 
 should I be honorable if I don t think it pays or 
 if I wish to do something dishonorable? Honor 
 is mere folderol. You have taught me that I 
 am to die a dog s death ; then why shouldn t I 
 live a dog s life if it pleases me ? Suppose I love 
 somebody? Why, love is a mere convenience, 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 139 
 
 a sort of luxury to make me comfortable ; and if 
 I don t care to be comfortable that way is there 
 any reason why I should be loyal to that love ? 
 At best it s a merely temporary matter, and 
 when I get killed bah! that s the end of the 
 love and the end of me. Come now, father, I 
 put it to you ; is there anything in that theory 
 which will restrain me, or make me sacrifice for 
 the good of others, or induce me to lead a moral 
 life? So far as I can see, if there s nothing 
 beyond and nobody up above to care whether 
 there s a beyond or not, why should I bother 
 myself? If I want a thing I m going to have 
 it ; and if I find more pleasure in whisky than in 
 attending to the farm, then why shouldn t I take 
 the whisky? Here I am a half-made drunkard, 
 and I tell you plainly that I am what I am be 
 cause you brought me up to disbelieve every 
 thing that other people who lead moral lives 
 hold dear. That s the simple fact, and I don t 
 see why I shouldn t go on as I have begun. 
 According to your own thinking, you ought to 
 
140 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 encourage me to go on and to help me to have 
 a good time in my own way. 
 
 " There, father, I ve done. Now you can say 
 what you please, and if you want me to clear 
 out and leave the family in peace I ll go at a 
 moment s notice. I don t care what becomes of 
 me, and the sooner the wretched farce is ended 
 the better for all concerned." 
 
 Lije was greatly affected by what his son had 
 said. I don t say he was convinced far from 
 it ; but he saw that the boy believed he was in 
 the right. It wouldn t do to threaten him, for 
 he would leave the house that very morning, 
 and as for reasoning with him, that would be a 
 very difficult matter. 
 
 Fortunately the father-heart of the man took 
 control of him. He pitied that boy, and was 
 ready to do anything to save him. Acting under 
 this impulse, he went to the window where Sam 
 was standing, put his hand on his shoulder, and 
 in very tremulous but quiet tones said : 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 141 
 
 " My son, I don t think I can argue this ques 
 tion with you just now. You see, I am taken 
 by surprise, an have been so troubled lately 
 that I haven t my wits about me." 
 
 " That s all right, father ; I don t care to argue. 
 You ve always told me that it is better to be 
 perfectly frank, and you see I have been." 
 
 I wonder if any two men ever suffered as they 
 did at that moment. All anger subsided, and 
 as they stood there, father and son, each was 
 sorry for the other. 
 
 " I s pose I haven t been to you, Sam, all I 
 should have been ; but I did the best I knew 
 how." 
 
 " Look here, father," and Sam s eyes had tears 
 in them ; " I can t stand that. In most respects 
 you ve been the best father a fellow ever had. 
 I don t believe there s been a time when you 
 wouldn t have made any sacrifice for me." 
 
 " I think so, Sam," and poor Lije was on the 
 point of breaking down. 
 
142 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " And, father, you had strong convictions, and 
 you stood up for them against the odds of the 
 world. But " 
 
 " But what, Sam?" 
 
 " Well, I think there must have been a screw 
 loose somewhere in your theory, or I shouldn t 
 be where I am now. I can t blame you, and I 
 don t want to hurt your feelings, but that s the 
 way the matter looks to me." 
 
 It was a terrible arraignment, delivered with 
 equal firmness and tenderness. Lije felt it 
 deeply. It stung him like a hornet, and the 
 dear old fellow stood in the presence of the boy, 
 the very picture of despair. He cried in anguish, 
 " Sam, that s terrible ! I never thought I d 
 come to that. My God ! " 
 
 " Father," replied Sam softly, " there isn t any 
 God, so it s useless to appeal to Him. I wish 
 to heaven there were one. If I were only sure 
 that you are wrong, father, and that there is 
 Somebody somewhere who cares a penny about 
 us poor devils who blindly struggle with fate, it 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 143 
 
 would make a great difference with me. But," 
 and he took the old man s hand in his " but, 
 father, don t blame yourself, no matter what 
 happens to me. I can drop out of your life and 
 go my own way. I can t stay here and see 
 mother and Mary worrying about me. I ll just 
 pack up and get out, and after a while you ll 
 forget " 
 
 " Sam, Sam, do you know what you are say- 
 in ? Do you think I can let you go, my boy ? 
 Aren t your troubles mine, an won t I stand 
 by you through thick an thin? The girl may 
 send you off, an I m not findin fault with her 
 for doin it ; but your father won t let you go. 
 I couldn t bear it, Sam; no, I couldn t bear it" 
 
 Let us drop the curtain here. There are some 
 scenes which no pen can describe, and this was 
 one of them. 
 
VIII. 
 
 A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 
 
 ONE evening about a year before he died our 
 old friend, Hiram Golf, was in Jessig s library, 
 mousing among his books. He was vastly inter 
 ested in a volume of mythology, and one story 
 in particular struck his attention. 
 
 " Eureky ! I ve got it, parson," he exclaimed ; 
 " I ve got the best thing yet!" 
 
 "What is it, Hiram?" asked Jessig, looking 
 up from his writing. 
 
 "Don t let me disturb you, parson; I forgot 
 myself for the minute." 
 
 " Go on, Hiram ; I want to know what you ve 
 found." 
 
 " It s the secret of the religious life, an 
 nothin short." 
 
 144 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 145 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, perhaps you will let me 
 share your discovery. I ve been looking after 
 that very thing for a good many years." 
 
 " It seems there was a lot of sirens in those 
 old times," continued Hiram, " an they had 
 partic larly good voices. They could sing so 
 sweetly that the sailors goin by forgot to attend 
 to their vessel, an as a consequence they got 
 shipwrecked. By the way, parson, the same 
 things are goin on nowadays, I reckon." 
 
 " Yes, I ve heard that story, Hiram." 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt ; but here s the applica 
 tion of it. Perhaps you haven t thought of that. " 
 
 " I can t answer until I know what your ap 
 plication is, my dear friend." 
 
 " Naterally not. This man, Ulysses do I 
 pronounce his name right, parson? Thank ee, 
 then I ll go ahead ; this man, Ulysses, wasn t 
 much of a fellow, I jedge from what the book 
 says. He was so scared for fear they might all 
 yield to temptation that he made his sailors stick 
 wax in their ears I don t know how they ever 
 
146 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 got it out, parson an then he told em to tie 
 him tight to the mast. In that way he got by 
 this point of land where the sirens was, an 
 sailed out into deep water. Now that is just 
 like some folks religion, don t you see?" 
 
 " Explain, Hiram." 
 
 " Why, it s as plain as a pikestaff. When a 
 man has only half got religion, he s afraid of 
 temptation, an he must either stuff his ears 
 with wax or bind himself to a mast." 
 
 Jessig nodded. 
 
 " But one day a passenger named Orpheus 
 was on board. He had a harp or somethin , I 
 forget what, an he could play on it first-rate. 
 When these sirens began their music he just lis 
 tened careless like, an when it was over he said 
 to himself, Well, sirens, that ll do very well, 
 for you ; but you re only second-rate musicians. 
 Just hear me. An he took up his harp an 
 played so mighty well that the sailors didn t care 
 any more for the sirens song because they d 
 rather listen to Orpheus. An then these sirens 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 147 
 
 gave up the job of temptin folks an drowned 
 themselves." 
 
 " Now for the application, Hiram." 
 
 " I apply it in this way, parson. When a 
 man has got somethin inside of him that gives 
 him more pleasure than anythin the world an 
 the flesh an the devil can furnish, then you can 
 turn him loose, for there ain t no danger. If 
 somebody offers me a copper cent an I ve got 
 my pockets full of gold, that- man can t tempt 
 me to do anythin with that cent for his bribe. 
 So when a man has all that God can give in his 
 heart he needn t be afraid of nothin . 
 
 " What you preachers ought to do," continued 
 Hiram, " is to get hold of the poor fellows who 
 have gone astray, an* get em interested in some- 
 thin that is better than what they ve been havin . 
 Then you ll preach to some purpose; an you 
 won t do your best work until you tackle the 
 problem in just that way/ 
 
 I have an object in relating this incident, as 
 you will soon see. 
 
148 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 A day or two after the events of the last 
 chapter Mary and her mother called on Jessig 
 in behalf of Sam. They told their story in such 
 pathetic fashion that Jessig was interested, and 
 at once offered his services in any capacity. 
 
 " If we could once get his mind off of these 
 things," said Samanthy, " he might forget all 
 about em. He s a good boy at heart, an must 
 be saved somehow." 
 
 "Yes, certainly," and Jessig seemed to be 
 thinking pretty deeply. 
 
 " He is very fond of books," added Mary, 
 " and was the first scholar in his class at the 
 academy. If you could have him here in your 
 library for a night or two every week it wouldn t 
 be long before this spasm of drink would be over 
 and he d become his real self again." 
 
 Then it was that Jessig recalled his conversa 
 tion with Hiram. It came like a flash, and he 
 at once saw his way out of the perplexity. 
 
 " I have it! I have it!" he exclaimed. " I ll 
 try an experiment, and I really believe it will 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 149 
 
 be successful ; if Sam has the mettle we ll save 
 him. " Jessig was almost hilarious as he said this. 
 
 " I ve got an idea. No, it s not mine ; it was 
 given to me by Hiram Golf. Perhaps, my dear 
 friends, the spirit of that saintly shoemaker is 
 here at this moment, and has reminded me of 
 something he said long ago, which I think has 
 special reference to this case." 
 
 About a week later Jessig s plan had matured. 
 He was an amateur astronomer, knew the con 
 stellations by name, and was on friendly, not to 
 say familiar, terms with them. His friend, Pro 
 fessor Rand, had charge of an observatory near 
 the city, and offered to loan him at any time a 
 telescope with a three-and-a-half-inch objective. 
 Then Mr. Sloan, who lived during the sum 
 mer on a hill within easy walking distance, had 
 invited him to make use of his piazza. Every 
 thing seemed to be propitious. 
 
 Then six little missives were sent, inviting 
 three boys and three girls to meet at the min 
 ister s study on a given evening, and the mis- 
 
150 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 sives explained that the pastor desired to get up 
 a class in astronomy. Of course Sam received 
 one, and, oddly enough, Sophy Perkins received 
 another. Jessig had heard the particulars of that 
 love-affair, and knew well enough that when a 
 man is to be taken in hand the best helper that 
 can be had is a woman. 
 
 But Jessig was very shrewd ; for he invited 
 Sophy s brother also, 3. rather stupid lad, pre 
 senting a strong contrast to the others, who had 
 all been to the academy, and three of whom 
 had graduated with honors. But Jessig saw the 
 danger of the situation, and handled it with a 
 good deal of skill. If Sam and Sophy kept apart 
 then the brother would serve a purpose ; and if 
 Sam and Sophy came together again then the 
 brother could be easily disposed of. 
 
 Sophy showed the letter to her father and 
 mother, and at first they shook their heads. 
 The girl, however, had a good deal of intellec 
 tual curiosity, and had taught one term in the 
 district school as an assistant. 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 151 
 
 " I dunno about this," said the father, when 
 he and the mother were alone. " Tears to me 
 like playin with fire. Girls are queer things 
 anyway." 
 
 " Our Sophy isn t," replied the mother rather 
 tartly. " She sent Sam about his business with 
 out consultin us, an I guess she can take care 
 of herself now. She s got a will of her own, an 
 she wants to go. I think we d better let her." 
 
 So it was decided. 
 
 The little meeting was a memorable one. 
 Sophy and Sam sat on opposite sides of the 
 room, and Sam at least was extremely nervous 
 and uneasy. He would give a quick glance at 
 Sophy and then as quickly turn away, his face 
 reddening as though he had committed a crime. 
 Once during the evening their eyes met, and if 
 you had witnessed that incident you would have 
 been assured of two things that Sophy was as 
 much in love with Sam as ever, and that Sam 
 was about as wretched a human being as can 
 well be conceived. 
 
152 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 Jessig, remember, was determined, if possible, 
 to save the boy, and felt convinced that he could 
 do it. He didn t let it appear, but he was really 
 behind the scenes, and took in the situation with 
 the adroitness of an expert. 
 
 When they were seated about the table, as he 
 had requested, he said very simply : 
 
 " We have a long winter before us, and I 
 thought we might get together once a week for 
 an evening and cheer ourselves up. As for my 
 self, I find my pastoral labors a little dull and 
 monotonous at times, and perhaps you can say 
 the same of your work on the farm and in the 
 house. So when I get tired of one thing I begin 
 to do something else, and find refreshment in 
 the change. 
 
 " An aged friend of mine once said that every 
 man should have a vocation and an avocation. 
 By that he meant that every man should do one 
 thing by which he makes his living, and in his 
 leisure hours do something else by way of relief. 
 He was a lawyer with a large practice, and I 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 153 
 
 once warned him that he would break down un 
 less he let up now and again. He answered, 
 Do I look like a man that is breaking down ? 
 and I had to confess that to all appearance he 
 was fresh and hearty. Then he told me his 
 secret. He said, I couldn t stand the daily 
 strain on my nerves if I didn t take a day off 
 every week no matter what my engagements 
 are. Saturday is my holiday, and what do you 
 suppose I do, Jessig? Of course I couldn t 
 guess. Well, he continued, I am a lawyer 
 up to Friday night, but on Saturday morning I 
 am a photographer. I take my camera, run out 
 by train or with my team into the country, and 
 tramp all day taking pictures; summer or win 
 ter, it makes no difference. My camera is my 
 doctor and my medicine and my delight. I get 
 away from legal perplexities and have a little 
 quiet chat with nature, with hills that are covered 
 with grass or snow, with quiet nooks and exqui 
 site bits of landscape which nobody seems to 
 know anything about except myself. Now if 
 
154 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 you will pursue that policy, follow a course of 
 study that will make you forget your clerical 
 cares, it will keep the wrinkles out of your fore 
 head for many a year to come. You must pru 
 dently mingle duty with fun, and your whole 
 life will be lighted up. 
 
 " I think he was a very wise man, and I have 
 followed his advice. I didn t care much for 
 photography, but when I was in college one of 
 my intimates was an astronomer, a fellow who 
 has since those days achieved considerable fame, 
 and I acquired a kind of enthusiasm for the sci 
 ence. I don t pretend to anything but the most 
 rudimentary knowledge, and yet even that has 
 afforded me a good deal of pleasure. 
 
 " Now if you like my plan we ll study the 
 subject as well as we can together, and by the 
 spring we ought to be able to recognize a good 
 many acquaintances among the constellations. 
 The air is wonderfully pure here, and on a clear 
 night the stars are exceptionally brilliant. What 
 say you ? " 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 155 
 
 There was a general movement among the 
 company, and every head was nodded, as though 
 the scheme struck them very favorably. Tom 
 Perkins also nodded, but it was with a different 
 purpose, for the poor fellow was already half 
 asleep. 
 
 " Well, when shall we begin? " asked Jessig. 
 
 "Why not begin right now?" asked Will 
 Randall, who took a medal at the academy. 
 
 " And where shall we begin ? " pursued Jessig. 
 Then he added, " Will you let me suggest that, 
 though our own little solar system occupies only 
 a point in infinite space, still, as it is the most 
 interesting part of the universe to us, it might 
 be well to start with some facts about the Sun ? 
 What do you say, Sam? " 
 
 After a moment s hesitation, but feeling some 
 what honored as well as embarrassed by this 
 personal reference, Sam answered, " I think I 
 am more interested in the Earth than in anything 
 else, because it s nearer home." 
 
 "True," said Jessig, "but there wouldn t be 
 
156 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 any Earth if it were not for the Sun, and there 
 fore " 
 
 " Well," broke in Will, " if that s so we ve got 
 our starting-point settled upon. Tell us why 
 there wouldn t be any Earth, Mr. Jessig." 
 
 " The Sun," began the parson, " is the center 
 around which all the planets in our system 
 swing, from little Mercury, which is nearest, to 
 Neptune, which is farthest away. It is possible 
 that there may be other planets beyond Neptune, 
 but they have not been discovered. Since the 
 time of Herschel two outlying planets, Uranus 
 and Neptune, have been added to the list made 
 by our fathers, and by and by some one may 
 discover another. The Sun is the great attract 
 ing body, and if it were suddenly blotted out 
 the planets would crumble into bits and fly off 
 into space to become meteors or comets. The 
 Sun holds us together as a system by the enor 
 mous influence of gravitation. Let me illus 
 trate." 
 
 Jessig took a ring of metal, and to it he at- 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 157 
 
 tached a string which he tied to his finger. 
 Then with a motion of his hand the ring began 
 to revolve at a distance of three feet. 
 
 " What forces the metal to make a circle round 
 my hand at just such a distance? " he inquired. 
 
 "The string, of course." 
 
 " Now suppose the string were suddenly cut, 
 what then? " 
 
 " The iron ring would go through the win 
 dow," answered Sam. 
 
 " Precisely. Well, gravitation is to the planets 
 what the string is to this bit of metal. It keeps 
 them in place. But if the Sun were annihilated 
 what would occur?" 
 
 " Something pretty serious for us, I reckon," 
 cried Will. " We should all go to kingdom 
 come in a jiffy." 
 
 "Yes," remarked Jessig; "the cold in inter 
 stellar space is inconceivable. Langley tells us 
 that the temperature in the infinite void has 
 been estimated as four hundred degrees below 
 zero, and when you remember that mercury will 
 
158 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 freeze in the bulb at thirty-nine degrees below 
 zero you can get an indistinct idea of how cold 
 it is up there." 
 
 " It is easy to see what would happen then," 
 said Sam, " if the Sun were put out." 
 
 " True," responded Jessig ; " we should within 
 a month become as solidly frozen as a cube of 
 Arctic ice. So you see without the Sun this 
 Earth would be useless. We are comfortable, 
 however, even at night, because we have an 
 atmosphere encircling us one or two hundred 
 miles deep, and in this atmosphere, which is 
 filled with particles of matter, the heat which 
 the Sun sheds in the daytime is stored. 
 
 " The Sun causes the water of the ocean to 
 evaporate and form clouds, which are simply 
 thin water ; then the wind blows the clouds over 
 the land, and when they strike a cold stratum of 
 air they condense, and, turning into raindrops, 
 fall upon the sod and make the grass grow. 
 Without the Sun s rays you could have no for 
 ests, no rivers, no flowers, no wheat or corn." 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 159 
 
 "How much heat comes from the Sun?" 
 asked Sophy. 
 
 " That is hard to say, Sophy," replied Jessig. 
 " Here is Professor Ball s Story of the Heavens, 
 and in that we are told that the Earth can 
 grasp the merest fraction of it, less than the two- 
 thousand-millionth part of the whole ; and then 
 he uses this striking language : The sip that a 
 flying swallow takes from a river is as far from 
 exhausting the water in the river as are the 
 planets from using all the heat which streams 
 from the Sun. 
 
 " Isn t that a great waste of the raw mate 
 rial?" asked Will. 
 
 " It would seem so, but perhaps sometime, 
 when we understand the subject better, we shall 
 have a different opinion." 
 
 " Tell me," asked Sam; " how big is the Sun ? 
 It looks as though it were a flash-light, while 
 the stars are only penny dips." 
 
 " That illusion is caused by our nearness to it. 
 In reality, the Sun is not comparatively a large 
 
160 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 body. For instance, the little star Arcturus, 
 which you will see next summer in the western 
 sky, looks hardly bigger than a silver half-dollar, 
 but that is in consequence of its distance. It is 
 said to be three thousand times as large as the 
 Sun, and there are other stars which are infi 
 nitely bigger than our orb." 
 
 " Well, it is rather sizable after all, I take it/ 
 said Sam, " and I think we ought to stand up 
 for it if there is going to be any competition." 
 
 " How large, Sam, should you think it? " 
 
 " I don t know, Mr. Jessig. I remember some 
 thing about several hundred thousand miles in 
 diameter, but that s all." 
 
 " Just think of it," said the parson. " If you 
 should put the Earth at the center of the Sun 
 the Moon could revolve about it just as it does 
 now and not come within a hundred thousand 
 miles of the Sun s circumference." 
 
 " Is the thing solid? " asked Will. 
 
 " Oh no, and oh yes. As fuel and fire are 
 solid so is the Sun solid. It is a huge bonfire, 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. l6l 
 
 sending out its glorious rays to an inconceivable 
 distance. It is not as dense as the Earth, but it 
 is more dense than some of the other planets. 
 Saturn, for instance, is so light that, if it were 
 possible to try the experiment, it would float on 
 water like a piece of pine, and, as Professor Ball 
 says, ( with one fourth of its bulk out of the 
 water. 
 
 " But what feeds this great furnace?" asked 
 some one. 
 
 " That is a very interesting question, and 
 authorities differ somewhat. Ball says that if 
 the Moon were crushed into atoms, and these 
 atoms were showered on the Sun, it would keep 
 the fire going for about a year. The Earth, if 
 similarly crushed and put into the fire, would keep 
 it going for perhaps one hundred years. There 
 are myriads of shooting stars which are caught 
 by the Sun just as a candle catches a moth, and 
 these constitute a fractional supply of fuel. But, 
 you know, the great body of the Sun is gradu 
 ally contracting, I believe at the rate of some- 
 
1 62 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 thing over two hundred feet per year, which 
 means that a hardening process is going on 
 slowly." 
 
 " Hardening?" cried Sam. "Why, then it s 
 only a matter of time before the fire goes out! " 
 
 " Quite right," said Jessig, " only a matter of 
 time." 
 
 " How long? " asked Will. 
 
 "They reckon about ten million years." 
 
 "Well, what will happen then?" and Sophy 
 seemed excited. 
 
 " Oh, then the end of the whole solar sys 
 tem, and after that, a new heaven and a new 
 earth. " 
 
 But I must not go further into detail. The 
 young folks were greatly charmed at the win 
 ter s prospect if this evening could be taken as a 
 sample of the discussions, and adjourned to the 
 dining-room, where Mrs. Jessig had prepared a 
 simple repast a bit of cake and a cup of hot 
 coffee. 
 
 When they parted they were in high glee. 
 
A LESSON IN ASTRONOMY. 163 
 
 But Sam had had only a word with Sophy. As 
 they were putting on their wraps the two col 
 lided, and Sam cried, in a broken way, " I didn t 
 mean to indeed I didn t," and Sophy cheerily 
 replied, " I know you didn t, Sam ; it s all right." 
 Sam s heart was lightened by her voice and 
 her manner, and all the way home he thought 
 of Sophy s face, to the exclusion, I fear, of the 
 Sun and all the other planets. 
 
IX. 
 
 SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 
 
 THAT was a memorable winter. How could 
 it be otherwise with such a teacher and such a 
 subject ? The class became intensely interested, 
 and many a night they were to be found on the 
 piazza, on the hilltop, looking through the little 
 telescope and through the clear frosty air at stars 
 which seemed to be a blaze of divine glory. 
 They were all thoroughly enthusiastic, and to 
 this day, though that was ten years ago, and the 
 members have homes of their own and children 
 of their own, they refer to that winter as one of 
 the pleasantest experiences of their lives. 
 
 After a few weeks the boys and girls became 
 familiar with the constellations and could call 
 them by name. During December their espe- 
 164 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 165 
 
 cial attention was devoted to that wonder of the 
 wintry heavens, Orion, the most conspicuous and 
 the most awe-inspiring of all the many groups. 
 
 " Orion s beams! Orion s beams! 
 
 His star-gemmed belt and shining blade, 
 His isles of light, his silvery streams, 
 And gloomy gulfs of mystic shade! " 
 
 There on the left is the magnificent orb Betel- 
 geuse, and on the right the almost equally 
 bright star Bellatrix, while on the lower edge 
 sweeps Rigel in stately dignity through the 
 heavens. Just above the three stars of lesser 
 magnitude which form the belt is that historic 
 nebula consisting of a thousand worlds perhaps, 
 so far away that it seems like a bit of white wool 
 floating in the air. Not even the Lick telescope 
 can resolve it into its separate atoms, and yet 
 with the little glass which the class used it pre 
 sented an interesting spectacle. 
 
 Jessig remarked that this constellation had 
 excited the wonder of all ages, and quoted from 
 the prophet Amos : " Seek Him that maketh the 
 
1 66 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 seven stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow 
 of death into the morning." And from Job also, 
 who watched these bright fires from the plains 
 or hills of Palestine : " Which maketh Arcturus, 
 Orion, and Pleiades, and the chambers of the 
 south; which doeth great things past finding 
 out; yea, and wonders without number." 
 
 At this time of the year, just after Christmas, 
 Orion was well up in the heavens and could be 
 studied to advantage. 
 
 " What is that nebula made of? " asked Will. 
 
 " One hardly knows. Perhaps it is a new 
 solar system in process of making, or perhaps it 
 consists of a group of suns, each with its planets, 
 systems like ours. No one can as yet find out." 
 
 " What do you mean," asked Sam "that 
 worlds are being made nowadays?" 
 
 " Certainly; why not? The processes of dis 
 solution are constantly going on, and also the 
 evolution of new worlds. You have an instance 
 of decay right above you." 
 
 "The Moon?" 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 1 67 
 
 " Precisely. The Moon, so to speak, has seen 
 better days. There was a time when it was 
 covered with belching volcanoes, but the fires 
 have all gone out and it is now simply a vast 
 cinder. Of course there can be no life on the 
 Moon any more than there could be on a huge 
 lump of charcoal, for it has no water and no air, 
 and only the heat which the Sun bestows." 
 
 During January they made the acquaintance 
 of the stars which precede and follow Orion, 
 beginning with the Pleiades. 
 
 " How many stars can you count in that 
 group? " asked Jessig. 
 
 After a moment Sophy cried, " I can see 
 eight." 
 
 Will thought he could see one more and Sam 
 insisted that he could see ten. 
 
 "That is a good test for the eyesight," re 
 marked the parson. " I can see only seven. 
 Your eyes are better than mine, Sam, and appar 
 ently the best eyes here, for ten is the largest 
 number that can be seen without a glass." 
 
1 68 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " How many are there really? " asked Molly 
 Pullman, who was the silent member of the class. 
 
 " Well, it is impossible to say. You see eight, 
 Sam sees ten. Galileo had a telescope with an 
 objective hardly larger than the glass in a pair 
 of spectacles, and he managed to get a glimpse 
 of more than forty, while the big telescopes of 
 the present day reveal between six and seven 
 hundred." 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Jessig," exclaimed Sam, " it 
 seems to me that there is a good deal more in the 
 universe that we can t see than what we can see." 
 
 "Oh yes; we can see very little indeed. I 
 have read, for instance, that with the naked eye 
 we can see not more than three thousand sep 
 arate stars." 
 
 " Three thousand ! " exclaimed Molly. " Why 
 look at them! I thought I could see about a 
 million." 
 
 " No, Molly, you can t ; and if you will spend 
 half an hour in counting you will discover that 
 your estimate is altogether too large." 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 169 
 
 " Well, with the telescope how many ? " asked 
 Will 
 
 " That depends. With a small telescope like 
 this well, let me think. Professor Ball says 
 that yes, I recall the figures now that with a 
 three-inch object-glass you ought to see nearly 
 three hundred and fifty thousand on a good 
 night." 
 
 " Great Scott ! " cried Sam. " Three thousand 
 with the naked eye, and three hundred and fifty 
 thousand with that little glass! Why, we are 
 pretty nearly blind, aren t we? We don t see 
 much of anything. Now tell me, Mr. Jessig, how 
 many stars can a man see with the best glass in 
 the world?" 
 
 "The number is rather startling," answered 
 Jessig. " I shall have to quote from Professor 
 Ball once more. I was looking up that subject 
 this afternoon, and he says that the best tele 
 scopes will reveal at least fifty million stars." 
 
 " And that number doesn t cover all there 
 are?" 
 
i;O THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " By no means. No one can place a limit to 
 the number. Space is infinite, that is, illimit 
 able, and throughout all space are stars. It is 
 a wonderful and most majestic subject to think 
 about. But remember one thing more : a star 
 does not mean a planet. There, for instance, 
 just below the Pleiades, is Aldebaran, and there, 
 beyond the belt of Orion, is that almost terrible 
 orb, Sirius. Now these, and for that matter 
 every other star in the heavens, is a sun, the cen 
 ter of a whole system. They have about them 
 probably a larger or smaller group of satellites, 
 just as our Sun has Mercury and Mars and the 
 Earth and Jupiter and so on, only the distance is 
 so great that no telescope will ever fetch them." 
 
 "What! every star that I see," exclaimed 
 Will, " is the center of a whole system like 
 ours?" 
 
 " Precisely ; and some of these systems are 
 much larger than ours, while others are possibly 
 smaller." 
 
 And so the time sped on. When February 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 171 
 
 and March and April came, the old familiar con 
 stellations disappeared one by one, sinking so 
 low in the west as to be invisible, and others 
 came into view. 
 
 Now Jessig s objective point was not instruc 
 tion in astronomy, but the reformation of Sam 
 Tomkins. Astronomy was merely incidental ; 
 agreeable, even delightful, but purely incidental, 
 the means to an end. And Jessig was a jovial 
 creature, and knew how to be young with the 
 young, a secret of influence which most ministers 
 have not yet learned. There are few men who 
 have tact enough to be boys when occasion re 
 quires and still retain their dignity, but Jessig 
 was a master of the art. During that whole 
 winter religion was mentioned only in the most 
 casual way. He preferred to let the scholars 
 draw their own deductions, and to formulate 
 their own ideas as to whether this complicated 
 universe is the result of chance or the workman 
 ship of a Creator. 
 
 A bit of gossip came to Jessig s ears one day 
 
THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 which mightily encouraged him. Some one over 
 heard a conversation, and naturally reported it. 
 
 Sam, it seems, had been sent to the hotel on 
 a trivial matter of business. On the piazza he 
 was confronted by the two city fellows. 
 
 " Well, old boy, what in the world have you 
 been about? We haven t seen your royal coun 
 tenance for weeks. I thought you were at least 
 dead." 
 
 " But you didn t take the trouble to inquire," 
 grunted Sam. 
 
 " Where have you been, my dear fellow?" 
 
 "Busy." 
 
 " Well, we ve missed you sadly. Good times 
 we had, didn t we ? Come along, old pal, we ll 
 have a drink to celebrate this happy meeting." 
 
 " Not much!" replied Sam sturdily. 
 
 "What! have you turned milksop, Sam?" 
 
 " Not exactly, but I ve got something more 
 important to attend to." 
 
 " Oh, reformed, have you ? " and the speaker 
 broke into a laugh. "Well, I shall try that 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 173 
 
 myself some day, but not just yet, I reckon. 
 Come along, my dear fellow," and he took Sam 
 by the arm, " and have a swallow in memory of 
 old times." 
 
 Sam shook his head. " No, can t do it. Been 
 a fool once, and don t propose to play that game 
 any longer," and he moved away. 
 
 When Jessig heard that he said to himself, 
 " Hiram Golf was a very wise man. It is the 
 music of Orpheus which does the business after 
 all. Ulysses had to be tied to the mast, but Sam 
 has learned a song sweeter than anything the 
 sirens can sing. The boy has been saved, and 
 the shoemaker has had a hand in the work." 
 
 Two things happened in the spring, just be 
 fore the class broke up, which I must speak of 
 in detail. 
 
 It was an early season, and the farmers were 
 looking their fields over. There was a general 
 movement in the neighborhood, a stir prelimi 
 nary to the activity which was soon to follow. 
 
 Jessig and Sam were frequent companions, 
 
174 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 and had become very fond of each other. On 
 a certain occasion when they were on the tramp 
 the parson saw an apple-tree, on the lower 
 branch of which some one who was at work 
 near by had hung his coat. Jessig was prompt 
 to use the incident to find out what state of 
 mind Sam was in ; so as they sat for a while 
 astride the fence to rest, he said in jocose vein : 
 
 " Hullo, Sam, I didn t know that frock-coats 
 grew on apple-trees." 
 
 "Nor I either," replied the boy, with a chuckle. 
 " I wonder whom it belongs to." 
 
 "Nobody, I guess," continued the parson; 
 " I rather think it came there by chance." 
 
 " Dropped from the sky, perhaps," remarked 
 Sam. 
 
 " Come, Sam," and Jessig grew serious, " I d 
 like to argue with you for five minutes about 
 that coat." 
 
 " I don t see much room for argument ; but 
 still, if you are hankering to puzzle me, go ahead. 
 I imagine I can stand it." 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 175 
 
 " Well, to begin with, did you ever see that 
 coat before? " 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " Then suppose I should say to you in all 
 earnestness that it made itself and hung itself 
 up there, what would you answer? " 
 
 " Pshaw! I shouldn t think the question was 
 worth an answer. The man who could say that 
 wouldn t have stuff enough in him to make a 
 first-class idiot." 
 
 " Yes ; but imagine for a moment that I am 
 not an idiot, and that I believe just what I say 
 when I assert that the coat came there of itself, 
 by accident, as it were : how would you go to 
 work to convince me that I was mistaken? " 
 
 " Are you in sober earnest, or are you jok- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I was never more earnest in my life, Sam, 
 and I want you to proceed with the discussion." 
 
 " Well, to start with, I should examine the 
 coat and satisfy myself that it was a real coat." 
 
 Jessig nodded. 
 
176 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Then I should say to you, I know the stuff 
 this thing is made of. It was once on a sheep s 
 back. " 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " Somebody must have sheared that sheep, 
 and carded the wool, and woven it into cloth, and 
 cut out this garment, and sewed it and fitted it 
 for the use to which it has been put." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " It was evidently intended for a particular 
 purpose, and the man who made it had that pur 
 pose in mind when he worked at it. It wasn t 
 intended to cover a horse, because it s not the 
 right shape, and it was intended to cover a man, 
 because there are the arms and the pockets and 
 the buttons and buttonholes." 
 
 " You think that good reasoning, Sam, do 
 you ? " 
 
 " Why, certainly, Mr. Jessig. You can t deny 
 my statements, can you ? " 
 
 " How sure are you that you are not mistaken, 
 and that after all the coat grew on that tree? 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 177 
 
 What would you wager that some man must 
 have made the coat? " 
 
 "Wager? All I ve got. I d risk my life on 
 it." 
 
 " Good. Now let me see. As I understand 
 it, you argue in this way : that chance can t have 
 any definite purpose, and if anything is adapted 
 to a definite purpose you are safe in saying that 
 somebody adapted it to that purpose." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " In other words, it would be safe to say of a 
 type-writing machine, for instance, that matter 
 that is, iron, brass, wire, and ivory couldn t pos 
 sibly have put themselves into that particular 
 shape, but that some one, outside of the mate 
 rials used, must have first thought out the ma 
 chine in his mind and then put the iron and 
 brass together in that shape. Is that what you 
 mean, Sam? " 
 
 "Yes, exactly, Mr. Jessig." 
 
 " And would you apply that principle to 
 everything? " 
 
I 78 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 "What principle?" 
 
 " That a machine which accomplishes a given 
 work implies a maker of the machine? " 
 
 "I would, assuredly." 
 
 " But suppose the machine was a very big 
 one, Sam? " 
 
 " Why, the size of the machine doesn t affect 
 the argument, does it? " 
 
 " That is for you to say." 
 
 " I don t see how it does. On the other hand, 
 I imagine that the bigger the machine the bigger 
 must be the maker of it. If I can say when I 
 examine a jack-knife that somebody must have 
 made it, and made it to be used as a jack-knife, 
 I should certainly say when I see a Corliss 
 engine that somebody planned it and made it. 
 So far as I can see, the bigger the machine the 
 stronger the argument." 
 
 " I think you are quite right, Sam. Now sup 
 pose you take the next step. We have been 
 studying astronomy all winter. We have seen 
 that infinite space is filled with an infinite num- 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 179 
 
 her of worlds. These huge systems are all gov 
 erned by the same law, the law of attraction, and 
 this law keeps them in their respective places. 
 The heavens are a boundless exposition room, 
 in which the most complicated machinery is ex 
 hibited on a large scale. Purpose is evident 
 everywhere. Tell me, Sam, if the type-writing 
 machine can t make itself but must be made, 
 can " 
 
 " Stop right there, Mr. Jessig ; I was a little 
 blind at first, but I see now what you have been 
 driving at. I may as well tell you that after the 
 class had met two or three times and we fairly 
 got into the subject I was a good deal bothered. 
 You know that father is a peculiar man, good as 
 gold, and the kindest father in the world ; but 
 he has his pet ideas, and I was brought up on 
 them. But when I made that slip you know 
 what I mean, Mr. Jessig, don t you? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, Sam, I know; but it only lasted 
 for a few months, and you ve got bravely over 
 it, my friend." 
 
ISO THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Jessig, I have got over it, and I 
 don t think you need have any fear for me. 
 Well, when I came to think about matters after 
 that experience I saw that you religious people 
 have something or other which holds you back, 
 while I simply had something which pushed me 
 on. It seemed to me at the time that if I was 
 right and you people were all wrong, it would 
 be better for me to adopt your wrong ideas if 
 they would make a man of me than to stick to 
 my own rigid ideas if they were going to make 
 a fool of me." 
 
 Jessig sat very still, and listened with all his 
 soul. 
 
 "Well, then, up on that piazza where we 
 passed so many evenings it came to me that, 
 after all, this universe must have been arranged 
 and must be directed by what we call brains, 
 and a good deal of them. I couldn t get away 
 from it, and the longer we studied the more con 
 vinced I was. I have not mentioned this change 
 of base to father, for dear old man he is 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. l8l 
 
 awfully set in his opinions ; and I haven t said 
 anything to Mary and mother either. This is 
 the first time I ve talked about the matter, and 
 you ve kind of drawn it out of me. I hope you 
 don t think me weak-minded, Mr. Jessig, in 
 turning right about face in this way." 
 
 " Sam," said Jessig, in a voice full of feeling, 
 " if a fellow wakes up to the fact that the road 
 he is traveling is not going to lead him to the 
 place he wants to go to, he is both brave and 
 wise if he turns right about and goes the other 
 way." 
 
 Then they resumed their walk, and when they 
 reached Farmer Tomkins s house Lije happened 
 to see them, and in his cheery way hailed the 
 parson and invited him to come in and have 
 supper. 
 
 The second incident is equally interesting, 
 and I record it with equal pleasure. 
 
 I have already intimated that the estrange 
 ment between Sam and Sophy was due entirely 
 to the boy s bad habits. Sophy didn t believe 
 
1 82 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 in marrying a man with the hope of reforming 
 him afterward. She used to say that if a man 
 couldn t control himself as a lover he would 
 never control himself as a husband, and I am 
 inclined to think she was right. That she loved 
 him was beyond question, and that the love was 
 fully returned could not be doubted ; but Sophy 
 held herself with entire dignity during the even 
 ing sessions, and Sam was too humiliated to at 
 tempt any advances. Jessig caught him look 
 ing at her now and again as though she were a 
 goddess who had strayed from Olympus, but 
 he maintained a perfectly blank expression, as 
 though he were near-sighted and saw nothing. 
 He also noticed that Sophy eyed Sam very 
 anxiously during the first two months, but after 
 that had settled down into a feeling of security. 
 One night that little imp of a fellow, Sophy s 
 brother, went to a panoramic show at the town 
 hall, but faithfully promised to call for her at the 
 usual hourof dismissal. Of coursehedidn tcome, 
 and for my part I am very grateful to him. 
 
SAM AND JESSIG AGREE. 183 
 
 How to get home was the question, for the 
 other members lived in an opposite direction. 
 Jessig, partly I think by way of jest, said quietly : 
 
 " Why, Sophy, Sam will be glad " but he 
 didn t get any further with the sentence. 
 
 "Oh no, no, Mr. Jessig. Please don t; I 
 couldn t possibly allow it." 
 
 Her cheeks flushed crimson. 
 
 " All right, my dear, I will go with you my 
 self. Just wait till I get my coat from the back 
 room and I ll be ready. I haven t had much 
 exercise to-day, and should like the tramp." 
 
 So the parson disappeared. 
 
 Sam, however, had been pondering that mat 
 ter for an hour. He hardly dared to ask her, 
 for if she refused it would be dreadful. And 
 yet she might not refuse. There was a good 
 deal of risk in it, but he concluded to take it. 
 
 So it happened that when Jessig disappeared 
 Sam came to the fore. 
 
 " Your brother isn t here, Sophy? " 
 
 "No; but it s all right, Sam." 
 
1 84 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " Will you let me see you home, Sophy? " 
 
 "Oh, I couldn t trouble you. No, indeed! 
 why, I would as lief as not go alone." 
 
 " Possibly ; but still it is pleasanter to have 
 company, Sophy," and there was a certain plead 
 ing in his tones which was irresistible. 
 
 " Perhaps I oughtn t to, Sam," she said, with 
 a kind of desperation. 
 
 " Well, of course if you prefer not to have 
 me " 
 
 " It isn t that, Sam. You know well enough 
 you ought to know oh dear, I don t know 
 what I m saying." 
 
 " Then " and he spoke in a whisper " then 
 say yes, Sophy." 
 
 She hesitated an instant. 
 
 " If I m not troubling you too much, Sam." 
 
 So it was settled ; and when Jessig came back 
 and saw that he wasn t needed he cried out in a 
 jolly voice, " All right, Sam. I see you ve cut 
 me out, you rogue. Good-night." 
 
 That was the way the reconciliation began. 
 
SAM AND JESS1G AGREE. 185 
 
 From that night Sam and Sophy seemed to be 
 pretty nearly on the old terms. They sat side 
 by side during the meetings, and when in April 
 it was announced that they were to be married 
 in the autumn, Jessig said, " Sam is a splendid 
 boy, and will make a splendid man. He only 
 tripped, but didn t fall, and will never stumble 
 again. As for Sophy, well, next to my own 
 wife I think her the prettiest and best girl in 
 the village. They will make a fine couple." 
 
X. 
 
 A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 
 
 You have never been chestnutting? Then 
 I am sorry for you, for you have missed one of 
 the most hilarious pleasures of youth. 
 
 A picnic in summer is well enough in its way. 
 Boys and girls can have a good time under any 
 circumstances, but the summer picnic has its 
 drawbacks. In the first place, the chances are 
 ten to one that the heat will be scorching and 
 the breeze will die down, leaving most of the 
 company to gasp for breath. I don t know that 
 the sun and wind have any special aversion to 
 such gala-days, but I have noticed that the fires 
 of the one are hotter than ever, as though a big 
 lump of coal had suddenly dropped into the fur 
 nace, and that the wind grows sullen and sits in 
 1 86 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 187 
 
 a corner so still that you would think there could 
 never be a breeze again. Then, in the second 
 place, every created insect seems to become 
 unusually industrious, and, without intending it, 
 of course, does all it can to make the occasion 
 memorably disagreeable. 
 
 But chestnutting is a very different affair. 
 The bugs have gone to sleep to dream of spring ; 
 the breezes are sharp, crisp, and bracing, and 
 make a peculiar music as they blow through the 
 trees, and, bearing the leaves away, scatter them 
 over the ground ; the hardy wild aster still 
 holds its own in purple beauty, and the royal 
 golden-rod nods its resignation to approaching 
 fate. 
 
 You needn t start until after the first frost, 
 for that is the magician who splits the burrs wide 
 open, showing the brown treasures within, loos 
 ens the stem that holds them to the branches, 
 and drops them one by one into the lap of 
 earth. 
 
 There were ten boys and girls, all neighbors 
 
1 88 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 of Farmer Tomkins, who had agreed to make 
 the trip into the woods a dozen miles away at 
 the earliest opportunity, and when that October 
 morning shone it seemed as though it had come 
 straight from heaven. The fields were white 
 with a thin covering of hoar-frost, which quickly 
 melted when the sun peeped at it from the moun 
 tain-top over yonder. A tranquil day, " the 
 bridal of the earth and sky," as George Herbert 
 sang two centuries and a half ago. The old elm 
 in front of Lije s cottage, whose branches spread 
 fifty feet each way from the trunk, was as quiet 
 as if every leaf were still asleep, and all nature 
 sky, clouds, river, and woods was calm and 
 peaceful, full of benediction. You could hardly 
 look on the scene without saying, " The heavens 
 declare the glory of God; and the firmament 
 showeth His handiwork." 
 
 The little party got off soon after breakfast 
 not a city breakfast, but the breakfast of the coun 
 try. There were two wagon loads of precious 
 humanity in its halcyon days, one driven by Sam 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 189 
 
 and the other by George, the son of Rastus. 
 Sam and Sophy, you remember, were betrothed, 
 and were to be married a month or so later on. 
 George and Mary, the Mary of the household of 
 Lije, were not exactly engaged, but there was, 
 in the language of the locality, an understand 
 ing between them. George had a large heart, 
 and long ago he gave the whole of it to Mary 
 Tomkins. 
 
 What a jolly trip that was ! The young rois 
 terers made the welkin ring with their merriment, 
 and, as you know if you are in middle life, there 
 is nothing half so wonderful or attractive as the 
 animal spirits of healthy country boys and girls. 
 Such laughter and chaffing and teasing! 
 
 Into the woods they went, and then began the 
 scramble for nuts, the rivalry to get the largest 
 measure. 
 
 " Oh, how horrid it is! " exclaimed Sally Ed 
 wards. 
 
 " What is it?" cried Ed, who had been as 
 signed as her partner, " a rattler, a hobgoblin? 
 
IQO THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 Then I ll be Jack the Giant-killer/" and he 
 hurried to her side. 
 
 "The burr! Just look at my hand; it s full 
 of the needles. And, ugh! how they hurt!" 
 
 It is wonderful how long it took Ed to get all 
 those needles out of Sally s hand. He worked 
 away with untiring energy, and with more 
 patience than the occasion seemed to require, 
 until at last Sally said, " That will do, Ed. 
 Come, let s hurry up and get with the company. 
 Don t you see they ve strayed away, and as like 
 as not they have been laughing at us? " 
 
 "Well," replied Ed meekly, "if they enjoy 
 themselves in their way, I guess I ve had a good 
 time in my way too." 
 
 I think there was additional color in Sally s 
 cheeks, but at any rate they rejoined the nutters 
 and were not disturbed by their good-natured 
 twittering. 
 
 "Say, Mary," whispered George, " I know a 
 tree that last year was the best bearer of the lot. 
 Will you come? " 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 191 
 
 "Is it far?" 
 
 " No, no, not more than thirty rods from 
 here. It s right on the other side of that hil 
 lock. Let s slip away, will you? " 
 
 "Yes, George, I ll go; but we d better tell 
 the rest." 
 
 "What! tell them that we ve found a bon 
 anza? Don t you do it, Mary." 
 
 "Not that; but just say in an offhand way 
 that we are going to prospect. Perhaps, though, 
 it isn t necessary." 
 
 So off the couple went, and it was soon evi 
 dent that George s prediction was correct. It 
 was a huge tree, and the ground was simply 
 covered. 
 
 " Isn t it splendid? " cried Mary enthusiastic 
 ally, and then she added impulsively, " I wish 
 they were all here." 
 
 "I don t; you bet I don t," and George s 
 voice showed that he felt wounded. 
 
 "Oh dear, I am so unfortunate! I didn t 
 mean what you think I meant, George. I like 
 
1 92 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 to be alone with you, and you know it. You 
 don t want me to keep telling you that, dear 
 boy, do you? I was only thinking that there 
 is enough here for the whole company, and just 
 said impulsively that I wished they were here. 
 Don t you understand?" 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I do ; but I can tell you one 
 thing, Mary, I m not as unselfish as you are. I 
 wish there wasn t a human being within a thou 
 sand miles of us, and we should have to walk 
 the whole thousand miles together at the rate of 
 a mile a day to get home again." 
 
 She couldn t conceal her pleasure at George s 
 ardor, but she crimsoned when he said, " You re 
 a saint, Mary, and sometimes I don t feel worthy 
 to touch you with the tips of my fingers." 
 
 " Hush, George," and she put her hand play 
 fully over his mouth ; but he simply managed 
 to kiss the hand until she took it away, saying, 
 " I fear you are a naughty boy, George;" and 
 then by an irresistible impulse he caught her in 
 his arms and kissed her lips again and again. 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 193 
 
 Now let me state, for it is a historic fact, that 
 Mary was not indignant. The relation between 
 the two, a relation of perfect respect and confi 
 dence, was such that the liberty which George 
 took was not remarkable. Still, Mary thought 
 it time to end the interview, and said rather 
 pertly, " There ! you have done enough for one 
 day, sir; altogether too much, perhaps. Now 
 just go to the top of that hillock and halloo to 
 the others. They might as well gather these 
 chestnuts, for you have done nothing of the 
 kind." 
 
 " I ve been about better business," replied 
 George, with a chuckle. " Still, I guess you re 
 right, Mary," and in a minute he was on the 
 hillock hallooing at the top of his voice. 
 
 The time passed quickly, as it always does 
 when one is pleasantly occupied. And, by the 
 way, do you know what I would have done if I 
 had made the world ? I would have so arranged 
 affairs that happiness should seem long and mis 
 ery should seem short. As it is, the days are 
 
194 TIIE MXMX ^ /; 1 H LORD. 
 
 little eternities when we are unhappy, and sun 
 down is miles on miles away ; but what little 
 things the days are when you are enjoying your 
 self! The hours fly like crows, oh, so slowly, 
 if you are suffering, but they go with the speed 
 of humming-birds when you are in such merry 
 mood that you wish they would linger. It s all 
 right as it is, of course, but we cannot help pon 
 dering these peculiarities, and wondering why 
 things are just as they are. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon Sam sug 
 gested that the party get ready to go home. 
 
 " Let s never go home," cried Sally. "We ll 
 turn ourselves into fairies, and build our palace 
 right here." 
 
 " I m willing," muttered Ed under his breath, 
 so that she alone might hear. 
 
 "That s all very well," remarked George, 
 "and I d like to be a first-class fairy myself; 
 but it s going to be a chilly ride over the hills, 
 and we shall be glad to get near the fire by 
 sunset; I think we d better be off. Come, girls, 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 195 
 
 pack up your dishes, and we boys will lug the 
 chestnuts." 
 
 " You are an old tyrant, George. What an 
 awful husband you ll make some day!" cried 
 Sally, in an assumed pet. " Don t you think so, 
 Mary ? I am really greatly troubled about your 
 future," and such a merry laugh followed that 
 all joined in. 
 
 They took a different path out of the woods, 
 and after a while came to a brook. It was not 
 more than six or eight feet across, a muddy 
 brook, such as drains a meadow. 
 
 " Hullo, what s this?" 
 
 "Well, it isn t the Mississippi, I guess." 
 
 " Perhaps ; but it might as well be if we can t 
 get across it." 
 
 " We boys will wade and carry the girls on 
 our backs." 
 
 " Let s prospect. Oh, we re all right. Don t 
 you see that log across up there? Hurry up, 
 now." 
 
 " No, Ed, you shall not help me," said Sally. 
 
196 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " I believe I could walk on a tight rope, and a 
 little thing like this can t faze me. No, no, you 
 stand aside. I won t take your hand. Do you 
 hear?" 
 
 She balanced herself skilfully, and in half a 
 minute was on the other side. 
 
 " Why, it s just nothing at all. Try it, girls, 
 all of you. Don t you dare to? " 
 
 Sophy made the next attempt, and as there 
 were only half a dozen steps to take she made 
 the passage with ease. 
 
 " A country girl who can t cross a brook on 
 a dry log ought to go to the city to live," cried 
 Will. 
 
 " You d better let me take your hand, Mary," 
 George said as her turn came ; but she was in 
 high spirits and disdained assistance. 
 
 I don t know how it happened one never 
 knows why accidents occur but when she 
 reached the middle of the log her foot slipped, 
 and in an instant she was up to her knees in the 
 cold water. 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 197 
 
 Both George and Sam rushed to her aid, and 
 one of them caught her or she would have fallen ; 
 with a laugh, however, she waded ashore. 
 
 "How stupid of me!" she exclaimed, with 
 chagrin. 
 
 Both feet were soaked, of course, and her 
 dress was very wet. 
 
 "Why, it s nothing," she said lightly. "A 
 bath won t hurt me, I imagine." 
 
 "Let s go up to the farm-house," suggested 
 Sophy. " You ll dry off in half an hour. I 
 wouldn t take the ride home in clothes wring 
 ing wet, Mary. It isn t safe. You ll be sure to 
 catch cold." 
 
 " No, I ll do nothing of the kind, girls. I m 
 perfectly comfortable, I tell you. I rather like 
 it. It s an adventure, you know, just like what 
 we read of in the books. I m the rescued maiden, 
 all forlorn. How in the world do you suppose 
 I slipped, though? Come along; don t mind 
 me." 
 
 When they got into the wagons George 
 
198 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 wrapped an extra blanket round Mary to keep 
 off the chill wind. 
 
 " I feel like an Indian papoose, George, and 
 you are the brave who takes care of me. 
 There! thank you very much. Oh yes, I m 
 perfectly comfortable." 
 
 " I wish you had gone into the farm-house 
 and stood by the fire for a while." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Don t worry, you dear boy. I 
 can stand a little water without danger, I guess. 
 Now just get into your seat and start." 
 
 They were all jolly during the first part of 
 the drive, but when the sun crept down near the 
 western hilltops on the other side of the Chero 
 kee the air became nipping and the whole party 
 were silent. They had had a hilarious day, and 
 a degree of reaction from the high spirits of the 
 morning was natural. 
 
 " All right, Mary?" This from the back 
 seat. 
 
 " Yes, I think so ; but I shall be glad to get 
 home." 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 199 
 
 "You are cold, aren t you?" whispered 
 George. 
 
 " Just a bit; but please don t tell the others." 
 
 "Can t I put another blanket round you? 
 See, here s one." 
 
 " No, no ; it s only a couple of miles farther, 
 and then I ll toast myself by the fire ; but you 
 might drive a little faster, George." Then she 
 broke into a quiet little laugh and said, " I almost 
 think the marrow in my bones is congealing." 
 
 When they reached Lije s the other wagon 
 drove by at a sharp trot, and the girls cried, 
 " Good-by, Mary. Had a splendid time, haven t 
 we? A warm supper will do you good." 
 
 The mother saw the plight that Mary was in, 
 and at once hurried the child to her room, where 
 she put on a change of clothing and then returned 
 to the kitchen. 
 
 " My feet are like ice, mother. I didn t know 
 I could be so cold." 
 
 "Yes, I know. There! slip your shoes off 
 an put your feet right into the oven. The fire 
 
2OO THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 is down, an you won t find it too hot. No, you 
 mustn t come to the table. I ll bring you your 
 supper, an then you ll feel better. Before you 
 go to bed I ll make a nice cup of catnip tea with 
 a dash of pennyroyal in it, an that will set you 
 to rights. Dear me, I wish you hadn t been 
 careless, Mary. You can t do what other girls 
 can." 
 
 "I thought I could, mother; but you see I 
 slipped. The log must have been wet." 
 
 Lije came in from the barn. " Well, darter, 
 had a good day? Why, what s up? Feet in 
 the oven? Well, the air is nippin , an I don t 
 wonder." 
 
 " She fell off a log into the water," and that 
 was all Samanthy could say, for somehow her 
 heart was heavy. 
 
 " Oh well, didn t break nothin , did you? A 
 little water won t do any harm. But you 
 oughtn t to have driv home without gettin 
 dried off. I guess a good night s sleep will set 
 you straight, though, Mary," and Lije took his 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 2OI 
 
 place at the table and began to tell the news of 
 the day on the farm. 
 
 The human system is a very curious and puz 
 zling contrivance. You have noticed, perhaps 
 if you are the father of a family, you have cer 
 tainly done so that sometimes the most trifling 
 accident becomes serious, while at other times 
 what appears to be the most serious accident 
 turns out to be trifling. Why is this so ? I con 
 fess I don t know anything about it. We seem 
 to be physically a series of doors. When these 
 doors are shut and no one can tell what shuts 
 them all sorts of diseases may knock but they 
 can t enter, and a man will go through a thou 
 sand perils unscathed. Then again the doors 
 appear to be all open but what opens them is 
 beyond our ken and then ailments cross the 
 threshold and we fall on sickness. 
 
 Mary felt languid all through that winter. 
 There was nothing specially the matter with her 
 apparently, but she had no enthusiasms. She 
 was heavy and listless, and ordinary duties were 
 
202 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 a burden. Worse than all, she became strangely 
 reticent, and that made a great change in the 
 household, for she had always been the life of 
 the family circle. She was depressed, and her 
 eyes lacked the sparkle of other times, as her 
 cheeks lacked their ruddiness. 
 
 " I don t believe I ll go to the village to-day, 
 mother." 
 
 The mother looked at her, and the unusual 
 pallor nearly broke her heart. 
 
 " Don t you think it would do you good to 
 perk up a little, dear? Sam is goin to try that 
 new colt, an wants you to go with him." 
 
 "Don t ask me, mother; I feel tired. Just 
 see the frost on the window-panes. It must be 
 dreadfully cold outside, and I feel as though I 
 should never be warm again. When the win 
 ter is over and the grass gets green I shall be 
 like myself again, but I can t do anything now 
 except sit by the stove." 
 
 Samanthy didn t urge her, but as she went 
 about her housework she sighed. 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 203 
 
 " I m sorry I can t help you, mother," Mary 
 added. " I guess I m getting to be a useless 
 sort of creature, and I wonder why." Then she 
 looked out of the window on the drifting snow. 
 
 It was a long time before Lije appreciated the 
 difference between the Mary of that time and the 
 Mary of other days. He kept thinking that she 
 had an ordinary cold and would get over it in a 
 little while ; but when the holidays had all gone 
 by and she still dreaded to go out of doors he 
 began to think seriously of her condition. 
 
 One day when Samanthy arid Lije were alone 
 in the kitchen he said : 
 
 " Mother, have you noticed Mary lately? " 
 
 " Yes, father, I ve been noticin her all along 
 ever sence she came home from that chest- 
 nuttin ." 
 
 " She looks kinder peeked, don t she? " 
 
 " She isn t right well, Lije. I m gettin a bit 
 skeered about her. She picks up enough to go 
 to church on pleasant Sundays, but I couldn t 
 coax her to tend the sociable last Wednesday. 
 
204 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 She always liked to before, but somehow she 
 don t care for nothin now." 
 
 While saying this the mother .made herself 
 specially busy with the dough she was knead 
 ing, and never once lifted her head to look at 
 
 i 
 Lije. 
 
 " Don t seem to me that things are goin right, 
 father. She don t appear to have anythin the 
 matter with her, an yet there must be, or she 
 would take some interest in what s goin on. 
 When a girl of her age don t take any notice of 
 things it s about time to be lookin round to find 
 out what you can do." 
 
 " Tisn t love, Samanthy ? There hasn t been 
 any trouble between her an George? " 
 
 The mother shook her head. " No, Lije ; 
 everythin is all right in that quarter. I ve been 
 watchin , an George an she are just the same 
 as ever. It s worse than that." 
 
 Lije had scratched a match, but he threw it 
 into the fireplace and forgot to light his pipe. 
 
 " Worse than that, Samanthy ? Why, what 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 2O$ 
 
 the dickens do you mean? She isn t really sick, 
 is she ? " and Lije was positively alarmed. 
 
 " I shouldn t wonder if she was, father. I ve 
 been all in a tremble about it for weeks/ and 
 as Samanthy wiped her hands on the towel that 
 hung on the door she slyly wiped her eyes also. 
 
 " Wall, I declare ! I never thought that. Fact 
 is, it didn t seem to be possible for our bright 
 an high-spirited Mary to get real sick. I s posed 
 the cold would pass off in a week or two." 
 
 "But it didn t, Lije." 
 
 " No, that s true, mother ; it didn t. But don t 
 you think she s better than she was ? Isn t she 
 mendin ? " 
 
 Samanthy shook her head. 
 
 Poor Lije ! It was a revelation to him, and 
 he nearly broke down. For his Mary to be sick, 
 seriously sick, was more than he could bear. 
 So he talked no more, but sat by the fire for an 
 hour, his unlighted pipe in his hand, thinking. 
 The wind blew crisp snowflakes against the win 
 dow, and soughed mournfully as it swept through 
 
206 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 the branches of the elm. He must have a talk 
 with the daughter and find out whatever there 
 was to be found out. 
 
 The occasion came before he expected it. 
 Samanthy went over to the nearest neighbor 
 for a little friendly call, and father and daugh 
 ter sat side by side. 
 
 "Mary," he began, "you don t seem to be 
 as pert as you used to be. Is anythin on your 
 mind, darter? " 
 
 "No, father," and her voice was sweet and 
 cheerful, " nothing at all." 
 
 " You re not troubled about anythin that s 
 happened? " 
 
 "Not a particle." 
 
 "This ere cold is pretty stubborn, isn t it? " 
 
 This time she merely nodded, as though not 
 caring to continue the conversation. 
 
 " I want to see you lively again, Mary, an 
 full of laugh an fun." 
 
 " I should like to be my old self once more, 
 father, but " 
 
A SLIGHT ACCIDENT. 2O/ 
 
 He looked her steadily in the face, for her 
 answer surprised him. 
 
 "But what, darter?" 
 
 " We don t control these matters, father. It 
 must be as God wills." 
 
 He rested his elbow on the table and his face 
 in his hand. 
 
 " Isn t that queer talk, Mary ? " and a kind of 
 shiver ran through him. 
 
 " No, father, not queer if one has faith, as I 
 have. God decides all these things and does 
 what is best. If He wants me to get well it will 
 be easy to do so ; but if He doesn t want me to 
 get well 
 
 " There, there, darter, I can stand most any- 
 thin , but I can t stand that. Don t you go to 
 tell your old father, who loves you more than 
 he can speak of, an who looks forrard to a 
 happy old age with you smoothin his way to 
 the grave don t, Mary, don t tell me anythin 
 of that kind. What do you think I m made of, 
 darter? Cast-iron?" 
 
208 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " I don t want to hurt you, father dear," and 
 Mary took his hand in hers, " and I wouldn t do 
 it for worlds if I could help it, but I ve felt for 
 some time that I ought to say this to you. It 
 must all be as God wills, not as we will ; and I 
 must be ready to meet that will, whatever it 
 may be. 
 
 " I m sicker than you think, father," she added, 
 after a moment, " a good deal sicker. But don t 
 tell mother yet. It will be time enough for 
 that by and by. You promise me, father, don t 
 you?" 
 
 There were tears, great scalding tears in the 
 old man s eyes ; but he choked down a sob, and 
 answered, " Yes, yes, I promise, darter, but " 
 and he trembled in agony. 
 
 " Father," continued Mary, " I have known 
 it for some time, and now you know it. There 
 are just three of us who know it, father you 
 and I and God." 
 
XL 
 
 THE NEED OF FAITH 
 
 I SOMETIMES wonder whether the ministry of 
 a pure life, with its ennobling and inspiring in 
 fluence, or the ministry of a triumphant death, 
 a death triumphant because the dark path is 
 lighted by an unwavering faith, is the more 
 valuable. 
 
 To live grandly, in right royal fashion, to walk 
 through one s experiences with a stately tread 
 and with the courage of a soldier, without fear 
 and without reproach, is to impress upon a thou 
 sand youth the nobility of honesty, to give them 
 a high purpose and aim. To die without a 
 tremor of doubt or distrust, to draw aside the 
 veil and walk into the night beyond, or what 
 seems to be the night, with unfaltering step, as 
 209 
 
210 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 though heaven were close at hand and the soul 
 were eager to reach the other shore that is cer 
 tainly one of the sublimest privileges vouchsafed 
 to man. It brings the two worlds closer and 
 makes the other one dearer. Not all may wit 
 ness such a spectacle, but to the few who do it 
 is as startling as a miracle, something never to 
 be forgotten. 
 
 The spring came at last with its warm breezes 
 and its wild-flowers, but Mary, patient, sweet- 
 souled child, could not enjoy it. She had stead 
 ily grown weaker, and it was evident that the 
 disease was unwilling to loosen its grasp. When 
 the doctor came one cheery day in May, he 
 spoke of a change of climate, or rather a change 
 of scene, but the sufferer smiled and shook her 
 head. "This is home," she said, "and I can t 
 leave father and mother." He did not attempt 
 to conceal from her her danger, but she showed 
 no surprise. "After all," she remarked and 
 the doctor has told the story many times since 
 " after all, what does it matter whether I am here 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 211 
 
 or there?" and she lifted her eyes to heaven. 
 " I am in God s hands wherever I am, and that 
 ought to satisfy me. I shall be sorry to leave 
 those who have loved me," her lips trembled, 
 " but perhaps I shall be even nearer to them 
 than now." 
 
 Lije would steal into the room on tiptoe for 
 fear of awakening her if she happened to be 
 sleeping. He would sit by her side, hold her 
 thin, almost transparent hand in his, and caress 
 her with that tenderness which is the peculiar 
 ity of a rough man when his heart is profoundly 
 touched. He would say with forced cheerful 
 ness, " The weather is comin mild now, darter, 
 an you ll feel better," but she seldom answered 
 him ; she only looked at him, but that look told 
 more than words. He couldn t stand it, and 
 more than once pretended that he had forgot 
 ten something, and stole out of the room ; and 
 you would find him in the woodshed whittling 
 a pine splinter with all his might. 
 
 George called every day, of course. Poor fel- 
 
212 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 low, he couldn t always control his feelings ; but 
 I must hasten to say that as a general thing he 
 was brave. There was a certain afternoon which 
 he likes to talk to me about whenever I go to 
 Woodbine. " Why," he said, " that afternoon 
 was what made me a man. I was only a boy 
 before." 
 
 Mary was lying on the lounge in front of the 
 window, and he was seated on a footstool close 
 to her. 
 
 " George," she began, " you love me? " 
 
 He lifted her hand to his lips and reverently 
 kissed it. 
 
 " If I go away, George, will you still love 
 me?" 
 
 He flushed red, but couldn t speak. 
 
 " Yes, dear boy, I know what you would say. 
 You needn t say it." 
 
 Then his tongue was loosened. " Mary, we 
 were really married when we said we loved 
 each other, really married in the sight of Heaven. 
 We began our life together at that time. You 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 213 
 
 know me well enough to believe that I can 
 never " 
 
 "Yes," she broke in, "that is what I want 
 you to say. But don t say it, George, unless 
 you are sure you mean it. I would rather have 
 the whole truth, no matter what it may be. 
 You wouldn t deceive me, dear? " 
 
 " I have never had but one feeling about it, 
 Mary. Whatever happens makes no difference 
 in our love for each other. You are my wife, 
 and if I lose you I lose all." 
 
 " And even if I go away we shall still belong 
 to each other? " 
 
 "Just the same as now." 
 
 I met George long years afterward, and as 
 we leaned up against a fence chatting with each 
 other I said impulsively, " George, you have 
 never married? " 
 
 His face became grave in an instant, and with 
 a voice that was soft and low he answered : 
 
 " You don t remember, perhaps. I am mar 
 ried. God married Marv and me the winter be- 
 
214 THE FARMER AXD THE LORD. 
 
 fore she died. She is my wife now, and there 
 isn t any room in my life for another love. She 
 is there and I am here, but, do you know, I some 
 times feel that she comes here too. Maybe I am 
 wrong in this, but I like to think so. At any 
 rate, I am living in the hope of seeing her, and 
 though I have plenty of work to do I sha n t be 
 sorry to lay it down and go. Yes, I m married." 
 
 Last March George died, and the loving cou 
 ple have ever since I can t entertain a doubt 
 on that subject been in each other s company. 
 There may be no marriage or giving in marriage 
 in heaven, but there is something much better, 
 for in heaven loved ones come together and will 
 be together forevermore. George and Mary 
 were separated by her death ; they have been 
 reunited by his death. Death, therefore, is the 
 best friend George ever had. I am sure he 
 thought so during the years of his mourning; 
 he knows so now. 
 
 Was George a rare man ? Well, you are as 
 good a judge of that as I. When love is a mat- 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 2 I 5 
 
 ter of earthly convenience, a means to supply 
 domestic comfort, the wife giving her superin 
 tendence of the household, and the husband his 
 quid pro quo in the shape of sufficient money to 
 supply the necessaries of life, then love is more 
 or less of a bargain, and when one partner dies 
 the survivor looks about for a successor. That 
 is a low form of marriage, a purely physical idea, 
 with more or less of selfishness in it. 
 
 When, however, love is the union of two souls, 
 including the conjugal relation but not at all 
 dependent upon it, a union that has its basis in 
 that subtle and indescribable something which is 
 the strongest element in the nature of God Him 
 self, then when a man marries he is married for 
 eternity as well as for time. Those souls travel to 
 gether along life s highway in mutual helpfulness 
 and sympathy, and when the parting comes the 
 one who goes waits patiently for the one who is 
 coming, and the one who is left waits patiently 
 for the time to go. That is marriage indeed, 
 ennobling, inspiring, and glorious. I do not 
 
2l6 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 know enough of the world to declare that there 
 are many such marriages, but I am certain that 
 there are some. George and Mary were mar 
 ried in that way. 
 
 When Lije realized the fact that he must lose 
 Mary he was the most pitiable object I ever saw. 
 At times he would summon all the stubbornness 
 of his nature and try to bear it, but there were 
 other times when his self-control slipped away, 
 and then he was perfectly frantic. That the 
 calamity was evidence of cruelty, he had no 
 doubt; but whom could he blame? Who was 
 responsible for it ? He didn t believe in God, and 
 so of course could not see any purpose, either 
 beneficent or otherwise ; and as for the laws of 
 nature, they were both impersonal and inexor 
 able. He could say nothing, could do nothing, 
 was absolutely helpless, like a man on an ava 
 lanche, who is being carried to destruction. 
 
 In the field one day he saw under the fence 
 a wild-flower tossing its golden petals in the 
 wind and drinking in the sunshine. It gave the 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 21 7 
 
 passer-by the impression of happiness and con 
 tentment. It nodded to him as he approached 
 it, but that made him furious. That anything 
 could be joyful while he was miserable was more 
 than he could bear. That this chance, or law, 
 which constituted his whole creed, should dis 
 criminate between him and the flower, giving its 
 beauty to the one and such a burden of misery 
 to the other, that even an accident should so 
 happen that he must weep while the blossom 
 laughed, so enraged him that he gave the flower 
 a kick with his boot and broke it off its stem. 
 
 "There!" he exclaimed; " if there ain t no 
 more sense in this universe than to let such 
 things as you grow while I am watchin over 
 my dyin child, take that!" and he ground the 
 innocent flower into the sod with his iron heel. 
 
 " A pretty sort of a world we are livin in, any 
 how," he continued. "There are them clouds 
 rollin along- as though there wasn t any tears 
 to be shed, and that sky an that river an them 
 woods all enjoyin themselves while I ve got 
 
2l8 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 what I can t stand. It isn t any sort of a world 
 at all." 
 
 Then he trudged home, and there on her couch 
 lay the daughter, so pale, so wan, so beautiful, 
 and so resigned. She greeted him with a smile, 
 whispered, " You are so good to me, father," 
 and that confused him more than ever. What 
 made her so quiet ? Death was perhaps only a 
 few days off, and yet that child was perfectly 
 serene and undisturbed in her mind. He was 
 never so bewildered before ; it was all a mystery. 
 
 " I m goin to see the parson, for it s beyond 
 me. There s somethin here that I don t get 
 hold of. I ve lived sixty year, but I m beat this 
 time. Maybe he can give me some light. At 
 any rate, it won t do no harm." 
 
 When he entered the little library Jessig rose 
 and greeted him very tenderly. 
 
 " Mary ? " He put the question in that shape 
 because he expected news of her death at any 
 moment. 
 
 " Parson," said Lije very sternly, and not 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 219 
 
 answering the question, " I ve come to talk with 
 you." 
 
 " I am at your service, Mr. Tomkins." 
 
 " You ve seen Mary a good many times." 
 
 "Yes; she has lived a saintly life, and is 
 dying a saintly death." 
 
 That seemed to excite Lije. He rose, his face 
 flushed, his blue eyes ablaze, and, making wild 
 gestures of deprecation, cried : 
 
 "Dyin P What is she dyin for? Do you 
 think it the square thing for me to be robbed 
 of my only darter? Don t I want her mor n 
 anybody else can want her? Haven t I been 
 lookin forrard ever since she was in her cradle 
 to my old age, an her happily married, an all 
 of us together? I tell you, parson, I m bein 
 robbed. Taint nothin short of robbery to take 
 my child!" 
 
 Jessig took in the situation at a glance, and 
 saw that only the most drastic measures would 
 serve the and in view. 
 
 " Well, farmer, who has robbed you ? " 
 
220 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 " I don t know, parson ; I swear to you I 
 don t know nothin about it. I m all afloat" 
 
 " What you call the laws of nature don t seem 
 to come to your rescue, do they?" 
 
 "Wall, they don t, parson, that s a fact," and 
 he sank into a chair. 
 
 11 There ought to be something somewhere 
 that will help a poor fellow to bear such a trial 
 as this ; don t you think so ? " 
 
 " Ought to be? But there isn t; leastwise, I 
 can t see it." 
 
 " Why, farmer, I supposed when you and I 
 talked these subjects over, and you told me that 
 you had got hold of the everlasting truth, that 
 what you then called the truth would stand you 
 in good stead at such a time as this." 
 
 Lije said nothing, but oh, the expression of 
 despair in his face! Jessig, however, pushed 
 matters still further, just as a physician gives 
 the racking drug as a last resort. 
 
 <f Excuse me, neighbor, but don t you think 
 there is something wrong in a theory of the uni- 
 
THE NEED OF FA 1 TIL 221 
 
 verse which leaves you helpless when you most 
 need help?" 
 
 Lije was still silent. 
 
 " Suppose there was a rotten plank in the 
 bridge down yonder, and you heard it crack 
 when you drove a load of hay over it, what 
 would you do? " 
 
 " If I wasn t a fool, parson, I d see that the 
 bridge was mended." 
 
 " And so mended that it would bear any 
 team that would ever go across it? " 
 
 " Yes, parson, I d make a good job while I 
 was about it." 
 
 " So would I, farmer." 
 
 " But, parson, we re not talkin about bridges. 
 I d like to know " 
 
 " Oh yes, we are, neighbor. And you ve 
 been telling me some very important truths 
 about bridge-building." 
 
 Poor Lije ! he simply moaned. 
 
 "And if I had a theory of life," continued 
 Jessig, " that had a weak place in it, a place so 
 
222 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 weak that when death came into the house I 
 didn t know what to do with it, I d be pretty 
 sure that the theory was wrong, and would give 
 it up and get another one." 
 
 " You d have pretty hard huntin , I guess, 
 parson." 
 
 " If I were you, neighbor, I shouldn t have to 
 hunt very far." 
 
 "You wouldn t, eh? I d like to know where 
 you d find it, parson." 
 
 " I know some one who would be glad to give 
 it to you." 
 
 "Who is that?" 
 
 " Your daughter Mary." 
 
 There was silence for a little space. 
 
 " Farmer, you are face to face with two facts. 
 First, your ideas don t work; second, Mary s 
 do." 
 
 There was no answer. Lije was in that state 
 of mind where speech is simply impossible. 
 
 Then Jessig rose to the emergency. Stand 
 ing in front of Lije, and with that impressive- 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 22$ 
 
 ness which is the result of strong conviction, he 
 said: 
 
 " She believes that above us all is a wise and 
 powerful and beneficent Being whom she calls 
 her Father. As to His nature or His dwelling- 
 place she knows by personal knowledge no more 
 than you do. But He is the great reality in her 
 life. She has a perfect faith in His providence, 
 is absolutely certain that what He does is for 
 the best even though she may not understand 
 it, and submits to the higher will with calm and 
 quiescent resignation. 
 
 " The future is not a blank to her. Heaven 
 is as much a place as the earth is. For some 
 reason she is needed there, and she says, Thy 
 will, not mine, be done. She is slowly passing 
 away, but she is more quiet than you are because 
 she believes that it is all right. When in that 
 other world she will meet many who have gone 
 before, and she will still hold to the tenderest 
 relations with those who are left. Her love for 
 you will not be extinguished, but be purer and 
 
224 77/ FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 sweeter than ever. That you will be visible to 
 her I have no doubt whatever, but that she will 
 be visible to you I do not yet believe. Some 
 time, perhaps, even that may be our privilege. 
 I don t think it an impossibility, but I do think 
 that we are so enveloped in the cloud of this- 
 worldliness that for the present heaven is shut 
 out from view. By and by, when the body be 
 comes of less importance and is less dominating, 
 by and by, when we live more heavenly lives 
 and the soul assumes its rightful control, we 
 shall see the dear ones face to face." 
 
 Lije stared at the parson in open-eyed and 
 open-mouthed wonder. Both hands were rest 
 ing on his knees, but in his upturned face was 
 an expression which no one had ever seen there 
 before. He seemed to enter into Jessig s ideas 
 with enthusiasm. There were great tears on 
 his cheeks, and he trembled like a leaf. If you 
 had seen him at that moment, forgetful of him 
 self, you would have said that that rugged face, 
 sunburnt and furrowed, was really handsome. 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 22$ 
 
 Lije was transfigured. His manner was one of 
 humility, and his voice was as gentle as that 
 of a child caressing its mother. 
 
 " You really believe all that, parson ? Is there 
 anybody in the world who can reasonably believe 
 it? You wouldn t deceive me, would you? I 
 don t want to hear what isn t so. No, not even 
 now, when the shadders are fallin on my house." 
 
 Then Jessig took a chair by the old man s side, 
 and they talked together for a full hour longer. 
 When the interview was over Lije rose to go, 
 but he was a changed man. 
 
 " Parson, it s a new line of thinkin for me. 
 I ve always believed in nat ral law, cos there it 
 was right before my eyes." 
 
 " Yes, neighbor, and I believe in natural law 
 too, just as much as you do. But you have 
 never seen that if there is a law there must be 
 some one behind the law who made it. You 
 stop at the law, but I take one step further and 
 find the being who decreed the law, and that 
 being must be a law unto himself; in other 
 
226 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 words, he must be God. That Being I worship, 
 for His providence is over my whole life, and 
 so sure of His goodness am I that where I can 
 not understand there I trust, believing that He 
 knows better than I do, and that I shall see that 
 He was right when I get on the other side." 
 
 It was evident that Lije was very deeply 
 affected. On his way home he picked up Ras- 
 tus by the wayside, and the two fell into con 
 versation on religious subjects. 
 
 " Don t you think it rather weak for a man to 
 change his views, Rastus, at my time of life? " 
 
 " Depends, Lije. If you change em for some- 
 thin worse, why, the bargain is a bad one an 
 you re foolish to make it; but if you get some- 
 thin better I don t see but it s right an proper 
 to make the swap." 
 
 " Wall, that s just where I am, Rastus. I ve 
 held to certain idees, as you know, an I thought 
 they d last me until my folks druv me to the 
 churchyard. I ve been pretty fixed in em, 
 haven t I ? " 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 227 
 
 " I ve got to say Yes to that, Lije." 
 
 " I ve been ponderin em of late, an I find 
 there s a screw loose somewhere. My old the 
 ories wobble a good deal, an fust thing I know 
 I ll have a breakdown. I d like to avoid that if 
 possible. Now, as to meracles, you know what 
 I ve said ag in an ag in." 
 
 " Yes, Lije, you haven t been timid in givin 
 your opinions." 
 
 " Wall, I give it up. You see, there s a mer- 
 acle right to home in my house, an seein is 
 believin ." 
 
 "You mean Mary, Lije?" 
 
 " Exactly. That darter of mine is goin some 
 where very fast, an tisn t strange that I want 
 to know where. She s ready to give up her life. 
 There s everythin to live for. She s engaged 
 to your boy George, an there s the two farms 
 to be divided among the children, an you d 
 think she d hang on to life, wouldn t you ? " 
 
 "Yes, Lije, that would be nat ral." 
 
 " Wall, she doesn t, an that s the meracle. 
 
228 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 She isn t afeard, but says if God wants her she 
 ought to go. Death is just nothin to her, only 
 the messenger who brings the message, an she s 
 sent back word that she s all ready. I tell you 
 that s a meracle, or about as nigh to one as 
 you ll get in this world." 
 
 "That s true, Lije." 
 
 " An then I ve been talkin to the parson 
 all the afternoon. Of course with these things 
 happenin in my house I couldn t help thinkin 
 a good deal, but I couldn t make nothin out of 
 em on my theory, so I went down to the par 
 son, an we ve had about the toughest talk you 
 ever heard of. He come onto me like a land 
 slide, an I must say he didn t mince words with 
 me, but let me have it straight. If what he told 
 me about is religion I want some of it, an I m 
 goin to have it." 
 
 Then they drove on in silence for a while. 
 "Tell you what, Rastus, I m glad Mary s got 
 this kind of religion. What would she do with 
 out it? S posin she believed just as I did! 
 
THE NEED OF FAITH. 229 
 
 Wouldn t it be awful? An wouldn t it be 
 awful for all the rest of us? " 
 
 " Then you wouldn t take it away from her, 
 Lije, an give her what you ve had instead?" 
 
 " Would I ? Why, it makes me shiver to 
 think of it. Not for worlds, Rastus, not for 
 worlds. You get off here? Wall, glad to see 
 you. Good-by." 
 
XII. 
 
 AND SO, THE END. 
 
 I SHALL never forget that day in the latter 
 part of May. It so happened that I was in 
 Woodbine on some business connected with the 
 Phil & Kuhn mills, and was witness to some of 
 the incidents that occurred. 
 
 The sun begins to climb pretty high up in the 
 sky at that season of the year, and the hills back 
 of the village were putting on their summer cos 
 tume. George had gathered early that morning 
 a small bunch of wild violets and half a dozen 
 stalks of the beautiful wood anemone and taken 
 them to the dear one. She lay on the couch, 
 where she could look out on the fields and 
 hills. 
 
 There was peace in the home of Lije Tomkins. 
 A tranquillity pervaded the household which 
 
AND SO, THE END. 2$l 
 
 only comes when we have faced a peril and are 
 trying to meet it bravely. The mother had gone 
 to her chamber for a rest after the long night s 
 watching, but with the promise that she should 
 be instantly sent for if any change took place. 
 Sam went about the farm work silently, but 
 managed to keep within calling distance of the 
 house. 
 
 Lije was with Mary, and as he gazed on that 
 sweet face, but oh, so pale and wan, he thought 
 of what Jessig had said. He smoothed her 
 pillow and straightened out the bedclothes as 
 though it was a princely privilege to do her the 
 slightest service. 
 
 How gentle he was, and what a rough sort of 
 fellow he was ! How could a man so rough by 
 nature be so gentle? He touched her finger 
 tips with his, and when she still slept on he 
 smoothed her hand. There, in a tumbler, was 
 the wood anemone, and on the coverlet were the 
 purple violets, and Lije thought how hard was 
 the lot of George, their plans all broken, their 
 
232 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 hopes all gone. They would have been married 
 in a few months, but now 
 
 And she? The doctor said the day before 
 that the end might come at any moment. Jes- 
 sig had also called, and when he came out of 
 the room he almost sobbed. " I can teach her 
 nothing," he said to Lije ; " she knows more than 
 I do, and has had a better teacher than I am. 
 I only hope that I may have the same experi 
 ence when I am summoned." There are some 
 things which parishioners can teach pastors. 
 
 Lije was so overcome by his thoughts that 
 for a moment he went to the window to get a 
 breath of fresh air. 
 
 There was a whisper " Father!" 
 
 He turned, and Mary beckoned him to her side. 
 
 " What is it, darter? Are you in pain any 
 where?" 
 
 She shook her head slowly and smiled. " No, 
 I have no pain, and " she laid her hand on the 
 old man s " no anxiety." 
 
AND SO, THE END. 233 
 
 He answered nothing, but what agony there 
 was in his heart ! 
 
 " Father, I m going to the other home to-day. 
 I shall be there before the sun sets. Think of 
 it, father dear, I shall spend to-night in heaven, 
 but there shall be no night there. I shall see 
 Uncle Josh and little Dick he must be a great 
 boy now." 
 
 She grew weary, and closed her eyes. " No 
 night there," she murmured, " and God shall 
 wipe away all tears from their eyes. 
 
 After a moment of silence she said, " I am 
 so glad to see you alone just now before I go, 
 father, for I want to tell you something. You 
 have had a lonely life in your thoughts, dear, 
 and I have been sorry for you. But see how 
 happy I am ! Do you know, father, what makes 
 me happy? It is my faith in God. I want you 
 to know Him as I do. If once you find Him 
 you will never let Him go." 
 
 " Darter," and the old man fairly broke down, 
 
234 rHE FARMER AND *T1IE LORD. 
 
 " if you are really goin I want to tell you that 
 I have already found Him." 
 
 " You have found Him ? " 
 
 And then he told her how he had been think 
 ing during the last few weeks that he might be 
 mistaken in his theories after all, and how he 
 went to Jessig s and laid down his last doubt be 
 fore he left the house. " An , darter," he said 
 chokingly, " I believe there is a God, an I m 
 goin to live as close to Him as I can. I ve 
 reaped only thistles so far, but some one has 
 taken the bars down, an now I m goin to fill 
 the barn with good wheat an corn." 
 
 There was a flush on her cheeks which fright 
 ened him, and she began to cough. 
 
 She clasped her hands across her bosom and 
 whispered, " Dear Lord Jesus ! " then lay so still 
 he thought she had passed away. 
 
 Twice her lips moved and she said in a faint 
 voice, " I am so glad! I am so glad!" 
 
 After a little she seemed to tremble from head 
 to foot. A shiver went through her whole frame. 
 
AND SO, THE END. 235 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 "Yes, darter," and his eyes were riveted on 
 her pale face. 
 
 "They have come for me! I see them! 
 Look! Can t you see them too?" 
 
 She pointed to the other side of the room. 
 
 "Who is it, darter?" 
 
 "Why! Oh, how beautiful! Shall I look 
 like that? " 
 
 The old man was almost panic-stricken. 
 Every muscle stiffened in the mighty effort to 
 control himself. 
 
 "Tell me, darter, what you see?" 
 
 " It s Uncle Josh, right there over the bureau, 
 and Dick is standing by his side. Dear Dick ! 
 you will be glad to have me with you, won t 
 you? And behind them is, is He s holding 
 His hands out for me. I wonder if it can be 
 the Lord. Yes, yes, father, it must be. Oh, 
 how I wish you could see them ! Look, father, 
 look! and try to see them." 
 
 Lije turned his head in the direction indicated, 
 
236 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 and for a single moment he was like an aspen 
 leaf in a tornado. Then he cried in a hoarse 
 tone, " My God! My God!" and buried his 
 face in his hands. 
 
 After that for perhaps half an hour father 
 and child were silent, her little hand in his, with 
 now and then a gentle pressure. 
 
 That Lije caught a glimpse of something I 
 am sure, partly because he has been so reticent 
 about it, and partly because he went back a 
 changed man to his farm work when all was 
 over. On one occasion I tried to lead up to 
 the subject, but he saw my intention afar off, 
 and shook his head kindly but firmly. " Some 
 things," he said, " can be spoken of to any one; 
 other things may be talked about among the 
 few; but there are things that can t be told to 
 nobody, an that is one of em. It s all between 
 Mary an me." 
 
 I think it was close upon noon when the sil 
 ver bowl began to break. 
 
 She said gently, " Father, the hour is come. 
 
AND SO, THE END. 237 
 
 I am going," and she raised her hand a few 
 inches that he might kiss it. 
 
 At that instant the mother came into the 
 room, and found Lije kneeling by the bedside, 
 his lips on Mary s hand. 
 
 " The door opens ! I can see it swinging on 
 its hinges. They are all waiting for me. Good- 
 by, mother dear; good-by, father. A little 
 while, and we ll all be together again. Yes " 
 
 There was a faint sound in the throat, and in 
 less time than it takes me to write the fact such 
 a change came over that little body that you felt 
 sure the soul had left it. It was the same body 
 and yet not the same. The difference cannot 
 be put into words, but it was infinite in extent. 
 The moment before death, although she was 
 terribly emaciated, you would have said without 
 hesitation, "That is Mary Tomkins." A sin 
 gle moment after death, if you had looked at her 
 you would have said, " Where has she gone?" 
 
 But I must draw the curtain. Lije and Sa- 
 manthy ! The loss was terrible. 
 
238 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 I saw Jessig last year, and he told me that 
 Lije was one of his closest friends and stanch- 
 est supporters. The affliction had mellowed 
 and enriched his nature. As the Bartlet pear 
 ripens best in the dark rather than in the sun 
 light, so some souls are at their best when they 
 have been through sore trials. 
 
 I took supper with Lije a few weeks ago, and 
 when we were sitting on the veranda in the 
 evening, watching the multitudinous stars, he 
 looked up and said, " Heaven isn t so far off 
 after all, is it?" 
 
 Then he added, " Sometimes I think them 
 folks come down to kinder cheer us up when 
 we feel weak or grow old." 
 
 I showed some surprise at such sentiments 
 from that quarter, perhaps, for he remarked/ I ve 
 led two kinds of life, but I like this last one best." 
 
 "What brought about the change, Lije?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Wall, it wasn t nobody but God an Mary 
 that could do it, but they did it." 
 
George H. Hepworth s Popular Books. 
 
 THE FARMER AND THE LORD. 
 
 A new volume, companion to "Hiram Golf s Religion." 
 i vol., i6mo, 242 pages, 75 cents. 
 
 This book is a small volume, but it contains the essence of true re 
 ligion, and will be greatly enjoyed by the many thousands who have 
 already read " Hiram." 
 
 HIRAM GOLF S RELIGION; 
 
 OR, 
 
 The Shoemaker by the Grace of God." 
 
 By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 
 ipth thousand. i6mo, 134 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 " Plain talks of a shoemaker and a parson. They are in dialect ; the 
 style is both quaint and strong. A book that gives the reader something 
 to think about. . . . The sterling, homely common sense of the book 
 is commanding wide attention." The Evangelist. 
 
 " This little book contains, in quaint and simple sketches, the essence 
 of practical Christianity. Hiram Golf is a man who exemplifies the pre 
 cept, Whether ye eat or drink, or whatever ye do, do all to the glory of 
 God. His talks with the young minister are the best sort of lay sermons, 
 and his life is at once a model and an inspiration. The book cannot fail 
 to be of service to ministers and laymen alike." New York Observer. 
 
 "The point is that serving God consists in doing His will, especially 
 so as to benefit one s fellow men and women, wherever one finds himself. 
 It is a powerful and touching little story and should have a large circula 
 tion." Congregationalist. 
 
 " This book is a small volume, but contains wisdom in large chunks. 
 Hiram was a poor shoemaker who mended shoes, and was just as much an 
 adept in mending worn-out, tired souls. His talks are eminently practical 
 and adapted to benefit all the army of grumblers. Hiram s religion has 
 nothing in it that is dyspeptic, which is more than can be said of many 
 good, well-meaning people. The little book has wonderfully good prac 
 tical lessons, adapted to every-day life, on every page." The Inter-Ocean. 
 
 "About a year ago a little book was published which won for itself 
 thousands of readers in a very few months. Hiram Golf s Religion 
 was one of the sturdy books that make men live better, because it makes 
 them think better. The homely sayings of the old shoemaker made every 
 one study himself." Books and Authors. 
 
BROWN 5TUDIE5; 
 
 Or, Camp Fires and Morals. 
 
 By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 
 
 i6mo, 332 pages. Illustrated, gilt top, $1.25. 
 
 "In the fora of * story. 
 
 - - :-- 
 
 -. - :r 
 
 ::.-. --..-.-- : ::.- A;.- -- 
 - - --.---. - - - -. 
 i, duties and easterns." .V. Y. Tim,*. 
 
 - 
 
THEY MET IN HEAVEN 
 
 By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 
 5th thousand. i6mo, 216 pages, cloth, 75 cents, 
 
 A r. __.._:.: : . r t r : r f - . . : - -. ;---__-.:._;:-: 
 
 - -r_.:_ :..- ._7_:. :: H.r_~ ".- .: 
 
 . : ---=. . - : r--. - -.:---.::..- ^ : - _ ..-_---- - . - : 
 
 :-.?: .r-i:: - . - - _ -.- : .: : : : --- . " .. - ; - - - 
 
 _: _: - : -..-- i. T- i- 1 ; -:--._. - - - 
 
 ar. ; ? : _r. : _. -.-: ; - - ___ ^ -. - r. 
 ::.:.:_: / 
 
 THE LIFE BEYOND 
 
 This riortal Hust Put on Immortality. 
 
 By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 
 
 2nd thousand. i6mo, 116 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 : ; . ;; _. ; . . - : : ..>-. : : -.:_:-; --.-.: f 
 ~ . " ? - - >:-- " - : - -- -..:-.--:-:.. - ; i . . : 
 
 ." - ."-? - -- " - -::-:-..-:-. -. -.:- .. - - . -- :- 
 
 : -; .. :. . -:-..: -_ :-::-- : r._ - , : :--:->:_-: -: - 
 
 - : -- - :: :;-;>:. ;;>-;. - - . 
 
 to the wearied and talma, who are **^wg for JJMMU.I of oooaf c r 
 unseen and immeasurable things beyond the Tafl." Ziims HrrmUL 
 
 ** The thoughts presented are expressed dearty and forciblT, and in 
 
 ? .- ~::: - :. ---.-.;:_:--_- : :r.r_ _n >;;--..-,-: -._rt* ".;.-. 
 
HERALD SERMONS. 
 
 By Rev. GEORGE H. HEPWORTH, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " HIRAM GOLp s RELIGION," ETC. 
 
 45 Short Sermons reprinted from the New York Herald. 
 i2mo, 252 pages. Portrait of Author. $1.00. 
 
 " For months past a sermon has appeared as the leading editorial in 
 the Sunday edition of the Herald, and these sermons have now been- 
 published in book form. In reproducing these admirable discourses the 
 publishers have unquestionably acted wisely. Both here and in Europe a 
 lively controversy has been aroused yi consequence of the bold statements 
 and striking originality of these weekly essays on religious topics, while 
 at the same time great curiosity has been manifested in regard to the per 
 sonality of the author. 
 
 " But why have these sermons caused such a sensation ? Do they differ 
 so much from ordinary sermons? .... Lucidity, brevity, the ex 
 pression of vital truths in clear cut Saxon English, absence of dogmatism, 
 an evident abhorrence of intolerance of all kinds, a catholic sympathy 
 with human beings of all ranks and creeds, and a determination to insist 
 on all occasions that ecclesiasticism, with its formulas and rigid adherence 
 to the letter of the law, is quite a different thing from the simple, soul 
 satisfying religion of Christ these, we think, are the chief characteristics 
 of George H. Hepworth, as made known to us through this book, and it 
 is precisely because he has given full play to his individuality that these 
 sermons of his are well worth reading now, and will be well worth read 
 ing long after the author has passed away." New York Herald. 
 
 " In these sermons subjects were chosen which come home to every 
 individual some time in his life whether he is in one church or another, or 
 in no church ; and they were treated in such a broad way that they could 
 be beneficial to all. The sermons have one excellent merit which it would 
 be well if some of those given in pulpits could be patterned after they 
 are brief and strictly to the point. Some of the sermons which are par 
 ticularly helpful or suggestive are, A Wasted Life, Prayer, The 
 Problem of Poverty, Why Do We Suffer? Heroes and Heroines, 
 Bearing Good Fruit, Do What You Think Is Right, Little 
 People Who Live Little Lives, and You Shall Have Strength. _ These 
 are a few of those in the volume, every one of which will contain some 
 word for some one in trouble or doubt." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " They are addressed to men and women entangled in the perplexities 
 of life, and help them not so much by opening to them a larger faith as by 
 disclosing to them the hope and comfort which lies in the faith they now 
 hold." Independent. 
 
 "A volume of unusual interest. These sermons have already reached 
 large congregations. They ought to, and doubtless will, in the present 
 form reach still larger. They will be found helpful, all the more so be 
 cause of their freedom from dogma, and of their fresh, vigorous dealing 
 with practical questions and problems." Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 " The sermons are very short, very interesting, very practical and 
 very helpful." Literary World. 
 
 " The sermons are admirable in thought and treatment." 
 
 N. Y. Tribune. 
 
Miss Crompton s Charming Stories. 
 
 Messire, and Other Stories. 
 
 By FRANCES E. CROMPTON. 161110, 117 pages, illustrated, 
 cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 Whoever has read either Miss Crompton s Master Bartlemy, or The Gentle 
 Heritage, 1 both of which are gems amongst the literature written for children, will 
 be eager to secure anything new from the same writer. . . . Three charming 
 stories, sweet and wholesome in tone, written in pure English, and pleasing to 
 young and old." Boston Beacon. 
 
 "To our minds, it is better conceived and better written than Mrs. Burnett s 
 Fauntleroy. It is as perfect a little classic as we have read in many a day." 
 
 -Church Standard. 
 
 The Gentle Heritage. 
 
 i6mo, 188 pages, half white, illustrated, 75 cents. 
 
 "The author writes with much real art, and child s life is so gracefully and 
 truthfully transferred to the pages of the book that only older people will catch 
 its full and delicate flavor. . . . One does not often come upon a more attrac 
 tive little book." The Critic. 
 
 "An altogether charming child s story. Five little English children, living sweet 
 natural children s lives, are taught by their experiences the groundlessness of a 
 nurse maid s story about Bogies, and, further, a great lesson in gentleness, self- 
 control and unselfishness. We know one little six-year old boy who calls for the 
 reading and re-reading of this book so persistently that he nearly knows it by 
 heart." The Message. 
 
 Master Bartlemy; 
 
 Or, The Thankful Heart. I2mo, half white, illustrated, 
 75 cents. 
 
 " One of the sweetest and quaintest little stories that we have read for many a 
 day." A 7 "- Y. Observer. 
 
 " Nothing since Mrs. Ewing laid down her pen has appealed to us in quite the 
 same way that this most graceful and touching little story does." 
 
 Girls Friendly Magazine. 
 
 " One of those touching and helpful little stories in which a skilled hand shows 
 how a little child s feelings and experiences are rich in important suggestions It 
 is charmingly -written." Congregationaltst. 
 
 " One of the sweetest, simplest, and most effective pieces of ethical romancing 
 that has come recently to our table." A r . Y. Independent. 
 
 Friday s Child. 
 
 A touching story of a little boy who was born on Friday. 
 I2mo, half white, illustrated, 75 cents. 
 
 "One of the most touching and beautiful stories of child life which it has ever 
 been our fortune to meet." N. Y. Evangel. st. 
 
 "The story is told with a skill, a tenderness, a mingling of the glad with the 
 sorrowful, such as one finds seldom equaled and never surpassed in the literature 
 of childhood." Chicago Standard. 
 
 Sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price. 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 
 31 West Twenty-third Street, New York. 
 
Hepworth, 
 
 M12044 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY