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One Penny, or 6s. per 100, net. Superior Edition, red borders, neat cover, 3d. ILLUSTRATED TRACTS: 'CAN I BB SAVED P' 'GETTING SAVED;' 'ADVICE TO BEGINNERS;' and Nineteen other Tracts, in a Packet. Price Is. 3d. *,* The Tracts are also sold separately, 32 pages at 6s. per 100, net and 16 pages ut 3s. per 100, net. THOUGHTS ON HOLINESS. Sixteenth Thousand. Royal 16mo. Red borilers round pages. Jfrice 2s. 6d. Cheap Edition, Demy i6mo. Price is. SOME ASPECTS OF THE BLESSED LIFE. Royal 16mo. Price 2s. 6d. (Uniform with " Thoughts on Holiness.") DANIEL QUOEM, AND HIS RELIGIOUS NOTIONS. SECOND SERIES. HE HAD PICKED UP HIS TOOLS, AND NOW STOOD FOR A MOMENT Tf\IMMING HIS CANDLE. See ]). 137. DANIEL QUOEM, AND HIS KELIGIOUS NOTIONS. SECOND SERIES. BT MARK GUY PEARSE, AUTHOR OF "MISTER BORN AND HIS FRIENDS," ETC. ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES TRESIDDER. THIRTIETH THOUSAND. T. WOOLMEB, 2, CASTLE STREET, CITY ROAD, E.G. AND 66, PATEENOSTEE EOW, B.C. 188-1. ertriBAB Bn<7nins AUD ni.it, PRtFITBHS, OAT-TOR HOUSE, FABHIRODOn U* IAHBOK, B,,. CONTENTS OF THE SECOND SERIES. PAGE I. DAN'EL GOES TO SEE FRANKEY VIVIAN . . 1 II. FRANKEY GETS INTO DOUBTING CASTLE . . 15 III. FBANKEY VIVIAN GETS OUT OF DOUBTING CASTLE, AND GOES HOME 28 IV. DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE DID WITH IT . 40 V. DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT 54 VI. DAN'EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT PREACHING ... 79 VII. WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN, AND HEAR DAN'EL PREACH 93 VIII. DAN'EL HAS A VISITOR 117 IX. FARMER GRIBBLE is PUZZLED . . . .134 X. DAN'EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT GRUMBLING . . 151 XI. DAN'EL'S ADVICE TO THE BEGINNERS . 1G6 1127701 I. 30*5 to s** Jtankeg 0rbran. OOR old Frankey Vivian was sink- ing fast. Shaken by his. cough and with failing breath, he now sat propped with pillows. His features were pinched, and a look of exhaustion had settled on his face, yet the old light and joy shone out more radiant than ever. The long years of climbing as a miner, the foul air of deep underground, and the quick change from the heat to the bleak winds that swept the surface, had nearly done their work. He could be with his friends on earth but a little while longer, a few days at most. DANIEL QUORM. Daniel Quorm was a daily visitor, sitting by the bedside for an hour or more; the bright eye that looked over the broad-rimmed spectacles often dimmed with tears. But it was Frankey who with husky and broken voice was speaking now. The wasted hand was held out toward Dan'el; and as he spoke a strange, new vigour came into his voice and manner. "A little while, my dear leader; only a little while, an' I shall be at home. Why, it makes me feel quite well again for to think about it. Last night I was lyin' somehow 'tween sleepin' an' wakin', I s'pose 'twas a kind of a dream, but I could see the old friends a-lookin' out for me. There's old Uncle Jem Polsue he has been up there goin' on for two year ; he's keepin' a look out for me, I know. An' so is the old Mestur Trewhela. It seemed to me like as if I could a'most hear them talkin'." " Bless thee, dear Frankey, thou 'rt near enough to hear them, I do believe," said Dan' el very softly. " Seemin' to me," Frankey went on, " that I could see old Uncle Jem comin' along the golden Street, an' up come Mest' Trewhela, an' shakes hands with him. " ' How are 'e, Sir ? ' says Uncle Jem. " ' Wonderful/ says Mest' Trewhela, * wonder- ful ; never so well in all my life. How are you, Uncle Jem ? ' DAN'EL GOES TO SEE FRANKET VIVIAN. X'X-X-V_X-VX~V-X-VX'X_X-> - v^X-^j^N^^^rf^^-^^^^^X-Xj^S^^X^^v^^^^^N^^X^- " Says Uncle Jem : ' How am I, Mest' Trewhela, liow am I ! why, I do hardly know myself : an' I've a-got to keep on saying, Be you the old Jem Polsue from down there to Bray be you ? 'Cause he had got rheumatics dreadful, he had an' you ' can fly right round the world for your Blessed Lord, an' never so much as feel it. Why, he hadn't scarce any breath an' you can go praisin' the glorious Lord day an' night in His holy temple. It can't be you, sure 'nough, Uncle Jem. But 'tis, bless the Lord 'tis, an' no mistake. That's how I be, Mest' Trewhela, 'zactly.' " ( Well,' says Mest' Trewhela, ' seen anybody from down our way lately, have 'e, Uncle Jem ? ' " ' No,' says Uncle Jem, ' I haven't, Mest' Trewhela. But I been thinkin' that 'tis most time for the poor old Frankey Vivian to be comin' up here, isn't it ?' " ' Iss, Jem, iss,' says Mest' Trewhela. ' He's bound to be up here before very long. How he will praise the Blessed Lord when he do get his breath again ! ' " And I lifted up my voice and cried out, 'I'm comin', my dear comrades Hallelujah ! ' And I woke myself up with blessin' the Lord. Sing, Dan'el sing." And Frankey's voice was choked as a fit of coughing came on. Presently Dan'el rang out tli9 DANIEL QUOB3I. old favourite tune, ' Jerusalem/ whilst Frankey put in a trembling note now and then, lifting his hand in time with the tune, and in his complete enjoy- ment of the words : " And let tins feeble body fail, And let it droop and die ; My soul shall quit the mournful vale, And soar to worlds on high. " Surely He will not long delay : I hear His Spirit cry, ' Arise. My love, make haste away! Go, get thee up, and die.' " what hath Jesus bought for me ! Before my ravished eyes Eivers of life Divine I see, And trees of paradise ; " I see a world of spirits bright Who reap the pleasures there ; They all are robed in purest white, And conquering palms they bear. " They drink the vivifying stream, They pluck the ambrosial fruit, And each records the praise of Him \Vlio tuned his golden lute. " what are all my sufferings here, If, Lord, Thon count me meet With that enraptured host to appear, And worship at Thy feet ! " "'Worship at Thy feet!' gasped Frankey. " Thy feet ! my Blessed Lord ; " and with his hands clasped and his face sinning with joy, he looked as DAN-EL GOES TO SEE FRANKEY VIVIAN. -'^-^^-^-^^^-V^V^X^'V.^'X^^rf'^'k^-S.^N^^ if the gates of the celestial city were flung open just before him and he were gazing straight in. Then Dan' el turned to the Bible. It was opened at the twenty-third Psalm. With a strange depth of tenderness the rugged old shoemaker began to speak of it, staying to let Frankey drink in the rich meaning, and interspersing it with his own comments. " The Lord so it begins, Frankey. We must get up very high before we can start. 'Tis too high for you an' me, I'm 'fraid. The Lord ! why, the earth is His and the fulness thereof. The Lord I why, His name is called ( Wonderful, Coun- sellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace/ Come, David, what great thing hast thou to say o' this glorious Lord ? " Dan'el turned again to the Bible, the short, sturdy forefinger guiding his eye. " The Lord is my my, hear that, old friend that this mighty Lord should know anything o' you or me, or should care for us. My what, David ? my King ? my Re- deemer ? my Judge ? my God ? The Lord is my Shepherd. Ah ! that brings Him down right close to us, Frankey. Shepherd ! why, how homely it makes Him ! doesn't it ? You an' I can start along with Him, and go all the way too, Frankey." " Bless Him," whispered Frankey, feasting on the words. ' My Shepherd ! why, 'tis like as if He'd DANIEL QUORX. ^x^j^S^^^XXX^XN^-Xx-s^Xx^s-^ 1 only got one sheep to care for, an' that one is me. MY Shepherd." "So 'tis, dear Frankey. I'm fine an' glad for thy sake. An' then, you see, there's one thing He's bound to do. A shepherd may please hisself about a hundred things : he may look after his bit o' garden, or see to his house ; but he must look after bis sheep must. He can't anyhow please hisself about that." Again the sharp eye turned to the Bible, and there was a moment's silence. " Bat stop, Frankey. I forgot that ; an' I often think about it too. We must begin at the begin- nin'. This is a Psalm of David -5 so it do say. I do like that. I've seen a lovely picture of a very fine young gentleman all dressed out in his best clothes, lyin' in the shade of a tree, among the but- tercups an* daisies, playin' music to the birds an' butterflies, an' the sheep scattered about in the prettiest groups you ever saw and they called it a shepherd. Pooh all a pack o' moonshine. Like as if the sun never set, an' the wind never blew a gale, an' the rain never came down like as if the sheep never went astray, an' a pretty figure that young gentleman would be a-climbin' over hedges an' ditches, an' through furze an' bramble ! Or like as if there wasn't no wolves an' no robbers. No, this isn't all pipin' an' pictures. 'Tis a Psalm DAN'EL GOES TO SEE FRANKEY VIVIAN. xx^^''>J'NX>^'Xx'XXNX^-<'X-'^'XXXx^ o' David; an* he knew different from that. Ho knew what it was to drop the harp an* to cudgel a bear. He had come out o' his comfortable corner an' killed a lion, David had. He had gone wan- derin' over the moors, clamberin' over the rocks an' down the cliffs in search of the stray sheep, and then he'd come home in the fierce heat carryin' the runaway 'pon his shoulder. He knew the rub of it, an' the work of it, David did knew what silly things sheep are, an* what a time of it the shepherd have got with 'em sometimes. And he says, The Lord is my Shepherd. It means a brave deal more than most folks make out of it, I know." " Go on, my dear leader," whispered Frankey, as Dan'el paused ; " I do dearly love to hear about it." Dan'el went on again, this time breaking out more cheerily. " I shall not want. Pretty boasting that for a sheep, Frankey, a silly sheep. Hold thy tongue, do, thou vain sheep why, thou canst not do any- thing for thyself. Thou canst not run like a hare, or go like a horse, or burrow like a rabbit, or fly like a bird, or hide like even a worm can. Thou hast not got the horns of an ox, nor the heels of an ass. As for the stork, the fir-trees are her house. The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats ; and the rocks for the conies. But where is thy refuge, DANIEL QUORM. j^^^s_,.^_^Xy^^^v>^vx^w^^>^> thou poor sheep ? Why, there is only one thing in all the world that thou art clever at : that is, clam- berin' over thy Master's hedges an' gettin' into trouble. Thou ought to be ashamed of thyself, boastin' like that, for a'most everything can turn into thy enemy. ' I'll parch thee,' says the summer ; Til bury thee,' says the snow; 'I'll sweep thee away,' says the flood; 'I'll pick thy eyes out,' says the raven ; ' I'll steal thee/ says the robber ; ' I'll eat thee,' says the wolf." Then turning to the Book, Dan' el read on with deep tenderness : " HE maketh me to lie doivn in green 'pastures ; HE leadeth me. What ! HE leadeth thee ! Then thou art right, sheep, quite right. Boast again, an' louder still. Summer an' winter, floods an' drought, wolf an' robber not one o' them can touch thee : HE leadeth thee ! then thou art safe, sure 'nough. He will take right good care o' thee, weak as thou art." "Q\ Thou art a blessed, blessed Lord," said Fraukey, rapturously. " lie maketh me to lie down in green pastures. That's worth turnin' over for a minute or two, Frankey. I expect that it do mean the young green grass when 'tis springin' up all fresh an' new ; that's what it do say in the margin pastures of tender grass. There, Frankey, think o' that. The good Lord do give His sheep the very best. DAfTEL GOES TO SEL FRAXKEY VIVIAX . 9 Common trade an' poor stuff won't do for His flock at all." " Just like Him, dear leader. Bless His name/' and old Frankey's face shone with joy. "And then to lie down too. Isn't that like Him ? I expect that sheep stand up so long as they're hungry, and then when they've had enough they lie down. Ah, He gives His sheep the very best; but not just a taste of it, He fills 'em with it. That's like Him, too, isn't it ? " "'Zactly, my dear leader, the dear Lord." " Beside the still waters. There's safety, too. Peace an' plenty for thee, Frankey, and then safety. No great torrents a-comin' down all of a sudden, sweepin' the poor sheep away before it do know where 'tis. " Then I do dearly love the next verse. This do seem all so good, just a little bit like the picture ; an' when I've got so far as this I can't help sayin', ' Dan' el, there's proper sheep for thee ! all so good and lovely. Thou art not like that : so wayward an' wilful as thou art every now an' then.' But then I do come to the next verse : He restoreth my soul. There, I see the silly, forgetful sheep .go climbin' over the hedge, an' then it goes scrambling down in the lane 'pon the other side, and it do go on and on till 'tis out 'pon the wild moor all lonely an' forlorn, an' it do begin to bleat for the rest, and 10 DANIEL do wonder where they're a-gone to. Then the good Shepherd looks up, an' He sees directly that one is missin'. He has got plenty here, an' that old wan- derer, why, he has gone away so often an' given the Shepherd so much trouble. Besides, he isn't really worth the trouble, so old and torn. But lo ! the Blessed Shepherd is gone, over dusty roads an' rocky moors, on, ever so tired, but lookin' an look- in' still, like as if He can't give it up. Then He do catch sight o' it, an' do take it up all so tender, an* do bring it home again, so glad for to have it. Blessed Lord ! I do thank Thee for that ! " and Dan'el's voice trembled for a moment. " When I come to that I do always say, ' Lord, Thou knowesfc that old sheep well. He have given Thee ever so much trouble, and he isn't anyhow worth it. An' that old sheep's name is Dan' el Quorm.' ' J " 'Tis Frankey Vivian, too, dear leader. Bless Him. He restoreth my soul." " And when He brings us back He can keep us, Frankey. He leadefh me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake." " For His name's sake'" whispered Frankey. " Yes ; that's sure, isn't it ? For His very name's sake He leads us in the paths o' righteousness. His name is Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins. It would be like takin' away His crown for Him not to lead us in the paths o' right- DAN'EL GOES TO SEE FRANKEY VIVIAN. 1 1 eousness. He's a tender Shepherd, an' will take care of His sheep, but He's a wonderful clever Shepherd, too : for to make us troublesome, forget- ful, wanderin' sheep go on in the right path, that's something like a Shepherd, isn't it ? " Again Frankey's face beamed with joy, and x.^th clasped hands and with a strange vigour he burst out rapturously, " ! blessed, blessed Lord ! "What a Saviour Thou art ! Wonderful ! wonderful ! " Daniel's voice sank into its tone of deepest ten- derness as he read on again : " Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." Then he was silent for so long a time that Frankey turned toward him appealingly : " Finish it, my dear leader. Don't 'e leave me in that dreadful place all alone ! " " I was thinkin', Frankey, what a picture it is, an' what a brave man this here is. I got it all up before me the other day so plain as could be. It was getting late in the evening and I was down by the sea. There was a mist rollin' in, an' it made it all strange an' ghostly. I was comin' down between the deep sides o' the valley all alone, and on in front o' me I could hear the roar o' the ground-swell. I says to myself, ' Dan'el,' I says, ' 'tis like the valley of the shadow of death, all lonely, an* strange, an' ghostly.' o 12 DANIEL QFOKM. " And then seemin' to me like as if I could see the man comin' down 'long through the valley. He didn't creep on, an' stop listening frightened, an' then go on again a step or two. He didn't come along like as if dreadful hands that you couldn't see were draggin' him down the dark val- ley. But he marched along all so brave an' happy, singin' so cheerful, like as if he didn't know what fear was. And I wondered if there was anything else in all the world that could make a man go down through the dark valley like that there." " Bless Him ; bless Him," was the only response that Frankey could make. " Nobody else could help us much if they did go with us, could they, Frankey ? They don't know any more about it than we do our own selves. But the Blessed Lord has been down through it, an' He do know the way right out into the light an' glory 'pon the other side. And now He His own self do come back for to take us by the hand. ' Fear not/ says He ; ' I will go with thee.' And then our hearts do cry out : ' Lord, I will fear no evil, for THOU art with me.' I do fancy, Frankey, that perhaps that night when the disciples were toilin' hard to bring the boat to the land, and they were beginmn' to be afraid because the waves were comin' into the boat, perhaps one o' them said, ' Don't 'ee be 'fraid 't all, comrades.' Bnt all the time the man's own face DAN'EL GOES TO SEE FRANKET VIVIAN. 13 was pale enough, an' his very voice shook, an' he was so much frightened as anybody. And p'raps some o' the folks ashore saw 'em in the early mornin', an' cried out, ' Don't 'ee be afraid 't all : you'll do it.' Ah, it was all very fine for them to talk like that, when they were safe ashore. But presently there came a very different voice, an' it said : Be not afraid it is I. Then there was a great calm, and they were at land directly." " Thou art with me, dear Master," cried Frankey, as his face lit up with joy. Then Dan' el rose. " Now, old friend, I've talked to thee long enough," and he closed the book ; " thou must not have any more than just a word o' prayer." " Well, thank 'ee, dear leader," said Frankey wistfully; " but I do wish you'd go on a bit more." " Nay, Frankey ; I won't send thee to heaven faster than thou art going, for I shall find it hard work to give thee up. But there keep the Word in thy heart an' feed 'pon it : ( I will fear no evil : for Thou art with me.' I thought o' thee the other day down to Redburn Peter's fair-day it was. There was a lot o' bullocks goin' by with long horns an' fierce eyes, terrible lookin'. A gentleman was comin' along with his little maid, an' when the women folk began to run into the doorways out o' their road, I heard the gentleman say, ( Aren't you 1 4 DANIEL QUORM. afraid, Jeanie ? ' And the little maid looked up in his face and laughed and shook his hand : ' Why, no, father,' says she, ' o' course not; why, you're here, you know.' Frankey, thou hast got hold o' the right Hand, and He will keep tight hold o' thine. Thou, canst look death an' hell in the face an' say, ' / will fear no evil : for Thou art with me.' >} n. into I Caslle. GAIN Daniel sat at Frankey's side. The two or three days that had passed had brought no change, except that the joyous light had gone, and now there was a look of weary sadness, very strange on Frankey's face. The enemy had been harassing the dying man : and to-day the talk was of gloom and doubts. " Dan'el," Frankey whispered hoarsely, " the old enemy's been at me fierce an' furious. You can't think what dreadful things he do keep tellin' me all night long when I'm lyin' here in the dark- ness and stillness." 16 DANIEL Q170K3T. " Bless thee, my dear old Frankey, bless thee," said Dan'el in his tenderest tone, taking the wasted hand in his own ; " what a ghastly old coward he is to be sure, to come hittin' a man when he's down, like thou art ! But there 'tis just like un 'zactly." " So 'tis, my dear leader. An' then the dread- ful things he do say too ! He do come 'pon me like as if from all sides to once. ' Thou art such an old sinner,' says he, ' there's no hope for thee not a bit. And as for thy wife an* children, they'll starve,' says he. ' And thy faith will fail thee in the dark valley, an' thou wilt be like a man down the shaft with his candle blowed out. An' the Lord Jesus why, what is an old worn-out sinner like thou art to the King o' Glory ? ' That roused me, Dan'el, that did." And as Frankey spoke the fire flashed in his eye again, and his voice regained something of its strength. " I lifted myself up then, and says I, ' Devil, if thou art comin' for a wrestle with me I can't do much agen thee. Tell me so much as thou wilt that I am an old sinner, an' I shan't argey with thee a bit I do give in to that in a minute. Tell me about my wife an' children ; I do know that my Heavenly Father will take care o' them. But to come a-tellin' me that my Blessed Lord Jesus don't love me ! no, I can't stand that, an' I won't neither. Weak as I be I can throw 'ee 'pon that ground.' But, my dear leader, I couldn't FRANKEY GETS INTO DOUBTING CASTLE. 1 7 do it. lie kept on so that he tired me out an' laid me right 'pon my back." Again the light died, and the voice failed him. It was with the hoarse whisper, and staying often to recover his breath, that he went on : " He kept tellin' me that the Lord Jesus had got something much better to do than for to look after an old man like me. ' You ben't nohow worth it, Frankey Vivian/ says he, ' you do know you ben't ; an' there 'tis nothing but conceit a-puffin 'ee up for to think that thou art. He care for thee ! Why, He have got thousands o' glorious great angels flyin' about for to do His will ! Care for thee ! why, there's this here great world to be looked after, an' such a troublesome world as 'tis too. Why, if He cared for thee, dostn't think He would send an angel for to sit alongside o' thee now an' then, and cheer thee up a bit when Dan' el can't come ? ' So he kept on till I was down, an' I felt like the horror of a great darkness a-shiverin' me all over." Then Frankey sank back, faint and wretched. For a minute or two Dan'el was quiet, lifting up his heart in prayer for guidance. Then he opened the Bible at the eleventh chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel. " Well, Frankey, bless thee, 'tis a dismal place to be in, sure 'iiough, is this same Doubtin' Castle. 18 DANIEL QUORM. But there's one thing thou art not alone. David sat down in the same cell, and sang that forty-second Psalm Why art thou cast down, my soul ? and why art tliou disquieted ivithin me ? The old tempter got him on his back too, Frankey. As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me ; ivhile they say daily unto me, Where is thy God ? And I reckon that the Blessed Lord Jesus Himself came very near it some time or other when He was in all points tempted like as we are. Anyhow, He do come alongside of us when we are there, an' do show us how to get out. Then there was Elijah he was a prisoner there too. But while you was a-talkin' I thought about another John the Baptist. I was rej,din' about him only a day or two ago. He was shut up in the same dungeon, Frankey. Now that's what I do call brave company for 'ee, isn't it ? David, an' Elijah, an' John the Baptist, an' the Blessed Jesus close by. Why, a'most all the great men o' the Bible got in here somehow. Come, Frankey, if you can tell a man by his friends, you needn't mind goin* to prison in company like that." Frankey smiled in reply to Dan'el's more cheery tone. Putting on his big spectacles, Dan' el turned to the Book and began to read : " Now when John had heard in the prison the works of Christ. In the prison. I fancy I do see him there in his dark dungeon, Frankey. An' these two disciples have FRANKEY GETS INTO DOUBTING CASTLE. 19 managed to get in to visit him. They're telling about Jesus and the mighty things He is doin' all over the land, an' about the talk there is every- where, some sayin' one thing about Him and some another. And there do sit John, who never feared man nor devil, you'd expect to see him like a caged lion. But he sighs, f Well, I don't know what to think 'bout it 't all,' says John. ' If He really is the great King o' kings, why, I can't help thinkin' that He'd come and take me out o' this here wished old place. You see, I gave up my life to Him, and testified of Him. An' now if He can do these here wonders that Isaiah said He should, why, He could open these prison doors and set this poor captive free.' Poor John, I can hear him sigh again, and he do put his face down between his hands, makin' his chains clank every time he do move. " Then, Frank ey, I expect these two disciples do begin for to try an' comfort their master. But they're wished poor hands at that work; for if John's Saviour hadn't come, nobody else cculd do much for him." Frankey shook his head sadly. " Then if these two disciples were anything like folks are to-day, why, they'd think 'pon a score o' things before they come to what we read about 'em. 'Master/ says one, 'there's a learned man up to Jerusalem called Nicodemus. He came one night 20 DANIEL QUOEM. and had a long talk with Jesus. Shall we go and ask him what he do think ? ' " ' Master/ says the other, ' there's our old com- rades, John an' Andrew an' Simon. They've been with Him a good long time now, an' seen His won- ders an' heard His words. Shall we go and ask one o' them ? They would come directly I'm sure, and they'd tell us a great many things about Him.' " But the poor prisoner didn't look up. He only shook his head. But we should have jumped at it, Frankey. We should have said in a minute : ' Iss, iss do 'ee go and ask them what they do think.' Why, there's hundreds o' people go sendin' their doubts beggin' for scraps to everybody's door, try in' to pick up an old dry crust of a proof here, and a crumb o' comfort there. I've met scores of 'em, Frankey, an' been one of 'em myself, too, before now. They'll send their doubts anywhere but the right place to be rid of 'em. They'll read great big books 'pon the Evidences by any mortal that cares to write about 'em, every book except one, an' that's the Book o' which our Lord says, Search the Scrip- tures. That they never think of. I fancy that the old lion began to roar in his cage : ' No, no. Go right away to Jesus His own self an' ask Him John sent us from his prison to ask Thee, Master, Art Thou He that should come, or do we look for another ? ' " i FRANKEY GETS INTO DOUBTING CASTLE. 2 1 "There, Frankey that's a bit o' comfort for us, isn't it ? We can send our doubts right away to Jesus, His own self. What So-and-so says, or what such-an-one thinks, what good is that ? Tell us Thy- self, Master. Art Thou He that should come, or do we look for another ? When He will speak to us I wonder that we can go wanderin' about listeuin' and arguin' with everybody else about it." Frankey's lips moved in prayer as Dan' el paused a moment. " An' yet I am pretty sure o' one thing, Frankey. I expect John felt like as if it wasn't a nice kind o' thing to do, it was like suspectin' his Friend, and it seemed so cruel for to doubt Him." Frankey 's tender heart caught at the objection in a moment. With a pained and anxious look he set his eyes upon Dan'el. "It do, my dear leader, it do seem cruel to doubt Him. An' so it is, too. Go on, my dear leader." And Frankey waited eagerly for this difficulty to be cleared. " I don't knew if John thought o' what I did, Frankey. It came to my mind directly. If He is so lovin' an' humble as to carry my sins, I'm quite sure He won't refuse for to carry my doubts too. ' Blessed Jesus/ I said, ' if Thou dost love me so well as to bear my curse, Thou wilt bear my doubts too.' " " Bless Him," cried Fraukey as the light broke, 22 DAXIEL Qt70E.V. with tears of joy. " 0' course, my dear leader, o' course : so He will, bless Him ; I'm sure He will." Again Dan' el turned to the Bible, the trusty forefinger guiding his eye as he read on : " Go and shoiv John again those things which ye do hear and see. Look, Frankey, the Blessed Jesus wasn't angry with him for sendin' his disciples and askin' that question. Surely that there promise was meant for poor doubtin' folks : ' If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not.' He never scolds His poor, ignorant scholars, though they come askin' troublesome an' foolish questions that they ought to have known years ago. Ah, the Blessed Jesus is the One to send our doubts to ! Why, I shouldn't wonder but Nicodemus would have said that 'he was quite surprised, he was, that the Baptist after preaching to other people should come to be amongst the doubters his own self.' An' Simon would have spoke out quite sharp to his old master. An' John, who hadn't got the blessin' o' perfect love then, would have flushed up like he did against the Samaritans. I do know a good many folks to-day, if you were to send your doubts to them, they'd send back a message that you ought to be ashamed o' yourself goin' arguin', an' reasonin', an' doubtin'. Ah, Frankey, that isn't like the Blessed Lord Jesus. FRANKEY GETS INTO VOV3TING CASTLJU. 23 Seernin' to me as if so soon as ever He got the message He would be sure to think ' Poor, faithful John, thou'rt in the dungeon, cast down an' tempted. I will comfort thee an' strengthen thy faith/ He didn't say, 'Go, tell John to believe/ No; the Blessed Lord gave him something for his faith to take hold of, an' for it to hold on to." Dan'el turned over the pages of the Bible until he came to the seventh chapter of Luke. He read from the twenty-first verse : " ( And in that same hour He cured many of their infirmities and plagues, and of evil spirits ; and unto many that were blind He gave sight. Then Jesus answering said unto them, Go your way, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard.' That is the Blessed One to send our doubts to, Frankey. That same hour He will work a hundred miracles for to hush our fears an' for to gladden our hearts." The light touched Frankey's face again. " Bless Him," he whispered, " He is a gracious and pitiful Saviour bless Him." "I wonder what the things were that He said to them," Dan' el went on. " I should dearly like to have been there that day : it must have been very gentle an' comfortin', Frankey balm for poor John's wounds. I can't help fancyin' that a wonderful tenderness like came over the heart o' Jesus, tender- hearted as He always was. You see He do keep on 2 I DANIbL QUORM. talkin' about John for a long time af ter, an' finishes it all up with a' most the tenderest words He ever spoke : Gome unto ME, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." "Bless Him/' whispered Frankey again. " Ah, yes, Frankey, thou may'st well bless Him. He care& for thee every bit so much as for John the Baptist. Thou ben't no such great man as he was> Frankey, but mind what Jesus said : He that is least in the Kingdom of Heaven is greater than he. But I was sayin' that seemin' to me like as if the thought o' poor John was in the heart of Jesus for a long time. 'Tis just the same as if He was in- viting poor, timid folks to come and ask Him all about the things that do puzzle them. Learn of Me, He says ; for I am meek and lowly in heart. Meek you see, Frankey, the Blessed Jesus won't lose His temper because we don't understand the lesson quicker or learn it better. Meek and lowly in heart. He'll take the infant class, He will, an' be so patient with the most troublesome of 'era an' make it all plain to the stupidest. Ye shall find rest unto your souls." ""Pis true, my dear leader, every word, bless Him. I do love Him for it, sure 'nough." And the glow of his face and the hands clasped again in rapture told that the tempter had left him, " for a season " at least. FRANKEY GETS INTO DOUBTING CASTLE. 25 Dan' el shut up the Bible and rose for prayer with the sick man. Then as if the thought flashed across him, he stayed a moment. " There is one thing more, Frankey, that I meant to say, too. I was thinkin' of it the other day as I was hammerin' away to my work when 'twas dismal an' rainy. The promises are just the same 'pon dull days as 'pon fine shiny ones, every bit, and do hold just so good as ever. The Bank o' Heaven isn't broke because the sun is clouded up a bit. Though we do get cast down, and though the devil do hale us off to the dungeon, an' tell us that we shall never get out no more, bless 'ee, Frankey, he's a ould liar, and you can never believe a word he do say." " He is, my dear leader. I do know that much about 'un." " Bless 'ee, we shall get out again, Frankey. He do know we shall. He can't help the sunshine a-comin' through the iron gratin' ; and we cry out like David: 'Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise Him, Who is the health of my countenance, and my God.' Then seemin' to me like as if the Blessed Lord, Who lets the sighin' o' the prisoner come before Him, do know the voice of His child in there in a minute, and He do knock at the prison door directly, an' do make the old gaoler bring out and deliver the soul that he dared to shut up. ' The Lord looseth the prisoners.' '' 26 DANIEL QUORM. " Lord, thou art my Lord," cried Frankey, " my Lord ! " "You know, Frankey, when Jesus was born there was the glory o' the Lord streamin' down and the heavenly host singin'. 'Twas all light and music. But very soon the light died out, and the music died away; buttle Blessed Jesus was there still. And Joseph an' Mary had to get up and go away out in the dark night, out in the cold winds an* the bitter rains, to Egypt. But for all it was so dark and cold, the young Child was in the mother's arms. An' I expect, Frankey, that every time there come a very cold blast Mary pressed Him in all the closer to her heart, an' when slie fancied she heard the soldiers shouting she put her arms about Him more tenderly than ever. Iss, Frankey, the light an' music may go, but Jesus u'on't. An' the cold an' dark an' the old enemy, why, they only make Him nearer an' dearer than ever. 'Tis only when we do come to the prison or like that, that we know how good an' how lovin' He is. When we're walk- in' about in the garden o' the Lord, He doesn't speak to us then like He does when we are goin' in at the dungeon door. Seemin' to me like as if the Blessed Jesus do come close to us then, and He do take hold o' our hand, an' all His lovin' heart comes out in what He do say : ' Fear not, fear not ; I will never leave thee, I will never forsake thce. Dun- FRANKEY GETS INTO DOUBTING CASTLE. 27 geon, fire, floods, death, devils, hell, come what may, I will be with thee. An' be quite sure that the more thou dost need ME the more thou shalt have ME. I will never leave thee/ y "Never," cried Frankey rapturously, "never, never, never III. JfrartJug gets ant of antr Castle, LMOST at dawn of the next morn- ing Dan'el sat with, Frankey again. There was a change that saddened the tone in which he spoke. The fea- tures were pinched and shrunk; the breathing was more difficult. As Dan'el stood by him Frankey opened his eyes and looked up, and in a moment the old joy and light shone brighter than ever. "Well how is it to-day ? " asked Dan'el, shak- ing the wasted hand tenderly. "Better an' better, my dear leader/' gasped FRANKEY VIVIAN GETS OUT ov DOUBTING CASTLE. 29 Frankey. " I've been longin' for 'ee to come that I might tell 'ee about it. Victory ! my dear leader, victory through the blood of the Lamb ! " It was with difficulty that he spoke at first, often stop- ping to get breath, but his body seemed to gather strength from the joyful exulting of his soul, and he went on to tell of his triumph with a wonderful energy : "He's gone, my dear leader the old Enemy is gone; clean gone. And I do believe he's gone for ever. Last night I had a terrible bout with un, sure 'nough. Seemin' to me like as if he'd a-gathered up all his strength for to lay me 'pon my back ; but bless the Lord, I come off more than conqueror. To think of it, too ; why, weak as I am, with my Saviour alongside o' me I'm more than a match for un with all his angels. The words do keep a-ringin' in my ears I do wish I could sing them once more : 'Now let my soul arise, And tread the Tempter down/ " It was Dan 'el's voice that took up the words and sang them tenderly to the old familiar ' Trumpet Metre ' : " Now let my soul arise, And tread the Tempter down : My Captain leads me forth To conquest and a crown : March on, nor fear to win the day, Though death and hell obstruct the way," P2 30 DANIEL QUORM. ^^^S-^^^,**,,"**^"*.^^^*^,*^^^^ Frankey tried to go on with the next verse, but again Dan'el had to take it up and carry it through; but Frankey's was the rapture that the words express. " Should all the hosts of death, And powers of hell unknown, Put their most dreadful forms Of rage and malice on, I shall be safe ; for Christ displays Superior power, and guardian grace." Then Frankey settled quietly down to tell the story of his triumph : "Well, my dear leader, it was last night, all in the dead o' the night, that I was lyin' here in the dark when he come 'pon me again and put the dreadfullest, ghastliest old thoughts in my mind, you can't think. An' the worst of all was the way he went on against my Blessed Lord. I can't abide for to think about them. Then it came into my mind all in a minute like a flash o' light, yet it came all so tender an* comfortin' just like as if Jesus His own self spoke the words to me : Go and show John again those things which ye do hear and see. "'What dost say, old Tempter?' I called out aloud. 'The Blessed Lord Jesus Christ doesn't love me ? I'll prove thee a liar. The glorious Lord will leave me to perish, will He ? Bless Him, I'll show thee something better than that. Come along with me.' An' I began to think what a won- FBAXKEY VIVIAN GETS OUT OF DOUBTING CASTLE. 31 derf ul deal more I had to look at than John the Baptist ever had. Blind eyes opened, an' lame folks walking an' lepers cleansed, an' dead men raised that's proof enough o' the Blessed Jesus : but what was all that beside what there was for me to see ? " Frankey's voice sank into a great solemnity and deep tenderness as he went on : " So I took the ould Tempter up to Gethsemane; up in the shadows o' the great dark trees. My own heart was a'most a-break- in' with love to my Blessed Lord, an' with sorrow that ever He should have suffered like that. ' Look there ! ' I said ; ' cans't thou see that Blessed One sinkin' there in dreadful agony ? Hark ! canst thou hear His groans an' cries ? He is the Son of God, an' the King of Glory. An' He's there for me ! For me poor old Frankey Vivian ! Canst thou see the sweat-drops falling from Him like as if it were great drops of blood ? For me, all for me ! my blessed, blessed, Lord ! Ah, look, He falls faintin' 'pon the ground ! ' " For a few moments Frankey could not speak. Then he burst out again triumphantly: "'Wilt thou tell me in sight o' that that HE doesn't love me ?' "I turned round, my dear leader, and I did expect that he'd have gone. But he didn't stir for that ; though I couldn't look upon it my own self without the tears a-streamin' down my cheeks/' 32 VANIEL QTJORH. ^^S-^^~^-S~^S~^s^_sr^s->^_s-^_s-^ jf r^^ " He's a hard-hearted old wretch/' put in Dan'el. " But go on, my dear Frankey. I do want to know how you got rid of him." " f Well/ I says, ' comest along with me again. I will show thee something more than that. To tell me that my Blessed Lord Jesus doesn't love me ! ' So I took en up to the Judgment Hall." Again the voice quivered and was broken with emotion. Very slowly, and with his eyes fixed as if on the scene he described, he continued his story : " ' There canst thou see Him standin' bound at the bar, a poor, forsaken prisoner ? There is the well-beloved Son of God ! An* He's there for me I He's takin' my place. Being tried in my stead mine, poor old Frankey Vivian ! Like as if He had come to me an' said, " Don't you be afraid. I'll go and answer for you." Ah, see how they scourge my Saviour's back ! Look how they pluck the hair off His cheek ! They beat Him ! They spit upon Him ! 0, my dear, my glorious Lord, how couldst Thou ever love me like that ? me, too ! How I will praise Thee for it, in a little while ! ' " I did think that would have moved the old Tempter, my dear leader. It seemed to me like as if he couldn't say anything in sight of it ; but for all that I felt that he was standin' alongside o' me still. I knew I was gettin' the best of it, bless FRANKEY VIVIAN GETS OCT OF DOUBTING CASTLE. 33 my lovin' Lord ! so I spoke out braver than ever : " ' I haven't done with 'ee yet/ I says out loud ; ' come, an' I will show thee something/ ' More slowly and more solemnly still, Frankey spoke now : " So I took him up the Hill of Calvary. Ah, what a sight that is, dear leader, isn't it ? And all for me ! Why, it do melt my heart for to think about it. " ' There/ I says, ( thou poor old Tempter, canst thou see Him now ? Pushed by the crowd ; hooted at from all sides ; there is my Lord, my own Blessed Jesus ! Dost see that crown of thorns upon His holy head ? Look ! He staggers under that awful cross For me : for poor old Frankey Vivian ! And canst thou see Him hanging on the cross -for me : naked, bleeding, torn, dyin' for my soul ? There that is how He loves me He gave Himself for me ! ' " Frankey's voice failed him for a minute or two. His eyes were fixed as if the scene stood out there visibly before him. " My own Blessed Lord ! an' to think that I could ever have doubted Thee ! " Then presently he went on again in a cheery way, turning his face to Dan'el : " Well, my dear leader, I looked round to see what the old Tempter thought o' that and, bless 'ee, he was gone, clean 34 DANIEL QUORM. gone ! I tell 'ee what I think, I don't believe he can set foot 'pon Calvary's Hill ; so I do mean to keep right up under the Cross, out of his road if I can. Bless the Lord, I am right in under there now, my dear leader ; and 'tis wonderful shelter a beautiful place, hid in the clefts o' the rock." Then Frankey sank back exhausted. Dan' el still held the wasted hand in his own, but his heart was too full for speech. There was not a sound except the whispered " Bless Him," " Bless Him/' that escaped from Frankey's lips. It was after a long silence that Frankey quietly finished the story : ' An' that wasn't all, my dear leader. Why, it was just like when the Blessed Lord Himself was tempted. The devil left Him, and angels came an' ministered unto Him. Only He His own self came to me. I was so quiet an' happy in there under the shadow of my dear Saviour, that I went to sleep. I s'pose things got mixed up in my dream, and I dreamed that I was going along a dreadful dreary place. There was nothing but a dead tree or two, an' a lonely moor with a ghastly old pond in the middle of it, full o' dreadful mockin' things. The grass was all yellow an' dyin', and the sky was all dull and dismal it was a wished old place, sure enough. Well, I thought that I went on a long, long way, an' I began to think that I should never FRANKEY VIVIAN GETS OUT OF DOUBTING CASTLE. 35 see anybody there, when all of a sudden I heard a voice callin* to me. It spoke so lovin* that I knew in a moment it was Jesus. " ' Poor lonely wanderer/ He said ; f come over here to me/ " I looked up, an* there was the loveliest place you ever saw. The sun was shinin* ; the birds were singin* beautiful. The trees were some o* them covered with green leaves, an* some with white blossom, an* some bendin* down with all sorts o' delicious fruits. The flowers, too, were every- where, and I could smell how sweet they were, as I stood there. Well, I ran so fast as I could to reach it, an* to see Who was callin* me, for I couldn't see anybody there, when I came to a little river. It wasn't very wide, but it was very deep, an* I couldn't get across. " Then I heard the voice again, so tender an* lovin*, ' I am waitin' for thee at the bridge. Come on.' " I looked where the sound came from, and there was a little crossin* place. So I hastened to it, and when I got nearer I heard sweet voices singin*. Then I saw Jesus directly, just like John saw Him, in the white robe, girt with the golden girdle, and He beckoned to me. " ' I am comin', my gracious Lord/ I said. " And then I woke up and found myself hero 36 DANIEL QUOB3T. still in the loneliness an' the dark. But Fve had the sweet music a-ringin' in my ears ever since. An' I'm gettin' near to the bridge, my dear leader nearer an' nearer." Dan' el could but look on that face lit up with rapturous joy, and think how soon it would shine brighter still with the glory of the Lord ; how soon those eyes would behold "the King in His beauty " in the land that to him was not " afar off." He turned over the pages of the Bible until he came to the last chapter of the Revelation ; then he read : "And lie showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month : and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. And there shall be no more curse : but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it ; and His servants shall serve Him : and they shall see His face ; and His name shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun ; for the Lord God givefh them light ; and they shall reign for ever and ever." ****** That night the end came. Frankey's wife and FEANKEY VIVIAN GETS OUT OF DOUBTING CASTLE. 37 children were gathered around his bed, while Dan' el sat at his side. His mind was wandering; his thoughts were in the mine work of former days. His failing breath now made him gasp painfully at the end of almost every word : " There comrades the day's work is done, an' I'm tired out. I do reckon that 'tis most time to go home long isn't it ? I'm goin' up now. I shan't light a fresh candle. This '11 last till I do get up to to grass." Then came silence for a few moments. " Ah I can mind once 'twas a Saturday night. I was timberinan an' had to look after everything when the men was all gone. And while I was goin' along my candle went out. A great drop o' water fell 'pon it. There I was all in the dark and shafts all about an' the ladder ever so far off. An' I hadn't a match. An' I kneeled down an' prayed an' I asked the Cap'n the Lord I mean to guide me. An' He did bless Him ! Led me along by the hand till I got hold o' the ladder. But now bless the Lord the candle is bumin'. " An' ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their Lord, when He will return from the weddin'.' ' Then came a longer silence, and his breathing grew more difficult. 38 DANIEL QTJORM. "Aw it do take away all my breath goin' up the ladder. I shan't be sorry when I've had my last climb an' done with it. Bat there the last climb of all won't be so hard either. 'Run up with joy the shinin' way To see an' praise my Lord.' Yes my Lord my own blessed, blessed Lord. Come let's stop a bit an' sing once more : ' Come let us join our cheerful songs.' ' Then Frankey lay as if listening with rapture to some singing that none else heard. Now and then he lifted his hand as if in time with it, and faintly whispered, " 'Tis lovely, lovely." Dan' el could not help thinking of that sweet music of which Frankey had spoken, that came not from earth, but from the garden of the Lord. " My blessed, blessed Jesus," Frankey cried with sudden energy, "Why, 'tis Heaven sure'nough to hear Thy dear name praised like that. But now come on comrades come on We're goin' home goin' home. They're lookin' out for me I know. An' then supper an' rest rest. 'Tis hard work now but then rest rest Ye shall find rest to your souls." Again silence; so sudden and complete that Dan' el leaned forward thinking Frankey was gone. But presently the voice broke out again, with more firmness and strength : " There I can breathe better now. I'm up FBANKET VIVIAN GETS OUT OF DOUBTING CASTLE. 39 at last. Yes out with the candle blow it out. We shan't want that any more. They need no candle nor light o' the sun. Bless the Lord ! " And now into the changin' room for to put off my workin' clothes/ A smile played over the face for a moment. ' This mortal must put on immortality an' then home. Home an' rest an' supper. Sit down with Him to the Marriage Supper That's right sing, my dear comrades beautiful ! beautiful ! " Again there was a short silence, then Frankey turned his eyes around the room and smiled on them all, and seemed as if he were going to speak to them by name ; but suddenly he looked upward fixedly, whilst a wonderful joy lit his face. "They're comin'/' he whispered, "comin'." Keeping his eyes gazing on the same place, he cried aloud " What, these for me ! for me ! white robes ! an' angels to wait 'ponme ! My Blessed Lord 'tis like Thee 'zactly as if Thou canst never do enough for me. There I'm ready now waitin' O, my blessed, blessed ' ! Then suddenly Frankey was gone. IT. gang's trouble, anb- ti%i Ije gib toitjr U. A.TTEES had not been in a very flemishing state for some time past in the little Church at Penwinnin. To Dan'el this was the most sor- rowful of all things that could happen. Business might fall off: it often did, for there were long and grievous times of depres- sion in mining, when the men had to emigrate, and wives and children were sorely pinched ; then the long bills at the shoemaker's could not be paid, and Dan' el's store of savings went in helping the needy ones about him. But at such times it was a real treat to meet him. You were sure to find scores of DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE DID WITH IT. 41 dismal croakers predicting, in awful tones, the ruin of the whole county, if not of England itself : what with America or Australia or some other place, they could never look up again ; so they declared. And they spoke it so solemnly, and so stubbornly, that it never occurred to you to doubt it for a moment. Then you came into the shoemaker's little shop, and Dan' el's face looked from his work as cheerily as ever. You began, naturally enough, to repeat these doleful opinions. As he listened the lips were tightened; the round head was vigorously nodded. There came a pause of a minute, as if he were try- ing to hold back the indignation that was gathering within him. Then suddenly it burst out, as if it could not be restrained : " Aw, 'tis dreadful, dreadful. That folks can go talkin' such nonsense ! An' all because they haven't had the makin' o' the world their own selves. How pretty they would ha' made it, wouldn't they ? Why, Carn Brea would ha' been a great mountain o' pure gold, an' Beacon Hill too. An' pretty lots o' fightin' an' stealin' an' murderin' we should have had 'long with it, shouldn't we ? " Why, I don't believe that there ever was a country that went to ruin for want o' money. 'Tisu't want that ruins 'em ; 'tis this here : Folks get listenin' to the devil : 'I've got the kingdoms o' the world an' the glory of 'em fall down an' worship 42 DANIEL QVORM. me.' An' they sell theirselves to him an' his ways. An' what else can you expect "but that he should come an' carry 'em away, body an' soul ? Only let folks serve God, an' put their trust in Him, an' they'll go on right enough ; with a few ups an' downs, I dare say, just to remind 'em that this is not their restin'-place. An' more than that, I believe you'll find 'em a rich people, too. The silver is Mine, an' the gold is Mine, saith the Lord of Hosts. Of course, the tin is His, an' the copper too. Bat it doesn't say so like as if the silver an' the gold was the Lord's in partic'lar. An', depend 'pon it, that He will give that country the most of it that'll do the best with it that's my belief. I can't abide to hear folks go talkin' like as if our Heavenly Father had nothing to do with us except to save our souls, and to take us out o' this here dreadful world so soon as ever He can. "Pis His world, and His Love an' Wisdom have every bit so much to do with tin an' copper as with anything else. When He hid that away in the rocks, He said " very good " o' that too an' so 'tis. Why, look how 'tis when we do get a bit prosperous we do begin to swarm till there's no elbow-room for anybody. Folks are all in each other's road. If we went on like that for long we should be a'most shovin' each other over cliff ! An' all the time there's that great Australia over there ; so the Father in Heaven do let them find a bit o' DAJTEL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE DID WITH IT. 43 gold or a bunch o' tin, and off goes scores an' hun- dreds o 3 young chaps, an* we home here do get a bit o' breathin' room again, an' very soon things come to be so good as ever. Why, to hear folks grumble an' growl as they do, you'd reckon that things was put together a-purpose to spite 'em, in- stead o' believin' with David that the earth is full o' the goodness o' the Lord." Then Dan'el caught up the half-made boot, and stitched away at it fiercely, tugging at the threads as if they somehow clenched the argument. Plainly enough the time to find Dan'el cast down was not when the tall chimney stacks stood smoke- less and the engines idle ; when the roar of the stamps had ceased, and there was no clanking of the chains ; when the piles of stones lay heaped up in desolate confusion, and the " dressing-floors " were no longer crowded with the busy groups of boys and girls. But let things droop in the Church, and Dan'el was a changed man. When the Word was preached without the manifest power of the Spirit ; yet more, when strife and bitterness sprang up amongst the people that took all heart out of him. Many times a day the work would be laid down, and as the eye looked vacantly out of the window a great sigh would come from his troubled soul. Frequently the little plctce was left for half-an-hour whilst Dan'el 44 DANIEL QUOBlf. went away alone with God, pouring out his heart in earnest pleading. And half the night long he lay sleepless at such times, thinking and sorrowing and praying. The chief cause of Dan'ePs grief just now was John Trundle, the village shopkeeper. John had been for years a dead weight upon the little Church at Penwinnin ; now he somewhat suddenly became a living obstruction and plague. The fickle Wheal Gambler, that had worn out the patience and pockets of hundreds, had at last " cut rich " as they said. Trundle, living on the spot and getting hints of the more kindly appearance of things, had bought up all the shares that he could, and now leapt into a for- tune. It was all so sudden, and so much, that it com- pletely turned his head, and his heart too. Nothing was good enough now for a man of so much import- ance. The little chapel in which he had wor- shipped all his days, where hundreds of saints had found the wedding garment and. gone 'VXX^^X>*x''X J .'XXXXV>^ N s^X^XXX" quite out; but the wick still went on smouldering with an offensive " smeach " that annoyed almost everybody, and that roused all Daniel's righteous indignation. It might have been more endurable if the evil had been confined to Trundle himself. As a rich man, however, one upon whom Providence had smiled so brightly, there were some always ready to side with him to echo what he said without a doubt and with a boisterous emphasis. Moreover, half-a-dozen disaffected grumblers like old Widow Pascoe, to whom complaining and gloomy murmur- ing were the truest signs of grace did it not prove that the earth to them was a howling wilderness ? rejoiced with almost questionable delight to find so influential a leader as this. Such was the state of things as Dan' el sat one day thinking of his Class that was to meet in the evening. For a week past the sacred old Bible, in its green baize covers, had been set up before him as he worked, opened day after day at the thirteenth and fourteenth of Genesis, until Dan' el must have known the verses by heart. As the sharp little eye turned to the page, or when it was lif tod from the work for a moment, as some thought flashed upon him, there was a strange fierceness in it. Then, too, Dan' el hammered at the leather with a sharp, half- angry hammering ; he thrust in the brad-awl with DANIEL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE DID WITH IT. 47 aii energetic jerk ; he caught at the wax-end with a tighter grip. But at noon of this day the fierceness failed him. His grief, the thought of his own helplessness, his longing that the glory of the Lord should appear amongst them again, overcame him. The dinner lay before him untasted. His hands hung down idly by his side as he leaned back in the chair, and tears crept down his rugged cheeks. At length he roused himself : he could not go on like this. The fierceness came back in the energy with which he flung on his coat and his hat, and turned the key in the door. Then leaving word with the neighbour that he should not be back until evening, Dan' el started off -at a vigorous pace that soon left Pen- winnin behind. It was in the early spring, and there was a ten- der balminess in the air as if in pity for all the young life that was just coming into being after a long and dreary winter. His way led down the rugged, winding hill-path ; then under a long row of elms, their dainty young leaves playing shyly with the gentle breeze; on through the fields, all snowy white with daisies, except in the marshy slope where the golden "lent lilies" nodded on their slender stems. Then along by the red mill-stream that went racing eagerly, as if it heard the clatter and splash of the wheel and loved the sport of sending 48 DANIEL QUORM. it creaking round; over little rivulets that came oozing out from the bank, as if their courage failed them and they were creeping timidly away from that long leap into the darkness. Past the little house, its thatched roof a very garden of moss and " penny- pies " and house-leek, of haughty " London Pride/' and aspiring groundsel; then round by the mill itself, the whitened half -door shut, and the darkness above it presently relieved by the miller, as he came out with a friendly nod, glad to have the loneliness broken by a passer by. Round by the dripping wheel, the wet walls thick with clusters of ferns ; across the muddy red river, going deep and silent to the solemn sea; up a steep bit of hill and then Dan' el stops to breathe the fresh sea-breeze that greets him. Already the kindly hand of Nature is charming the sorrow out of his face, and the grief out of his vexed heart. Away before him and on either hand stretches the heather, and the golden furze, lading the air with its fragrance, whilst from the cloudless sky the lark pours constantly a flood of rapturous music. The old brightness comes back again when, a little distance farther, Dan'el catches sight of the far-off sea line. Then only a few steps more, and there burst upon him the view that always filled his soul with joy. Below, for three hundred feet, there stretched LABEL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE DID WITH IT. 49 the rugged cliff $ here, broken, heaped up stones; there, patches of dark green grass and purple heather ; then steep crags and shady hollows ; and elsewhere the smooth steep bit that some landslip had swept sheer down to the black rocks below. Out at sea, there were the long lines in which the waves were curving ; sweeping on for a while un- broken, then lifting up white crested heads, and coming on arched and majestic, to be dashed into showers of spray, or breaking on the beach, where they went creeping far up the sands, white-lipped and harmless. And away beyond all this, " rounding it off with infinity," stretched the Atlantic, transparent green where the yellow sand lay underneath it, merging on either side into the deepest blue. Far up and down the coast projecting headlands, bold and rugged, shut in the view. The only sounds were the ringing music of the lark and the deep bass of the sea. A score of gulls that went sailing overhead with scarce a beat of their white wings, and a lonely "shag" that flew heavily along the water, completed the scene. Dan' el stood for some minutes wrapt in delicious enjoyment, drinking in its beauty. Suddenly his face grew clouded, as if some stray thought from Penwinnin had followed its master and found him. " 'Tis a wonder," he muttered, " a wonder, sure 'nough ! " And he confirmed the opinion by sighing 50 DAXIEL QUOIM. deeply and slowly nodding his head. " 'Tis a won- der that with such a lovely world for Himself, the Blessed Lord should put up with us troublesome men and women ! 'Tis a wonder ! " And again Dan'el looked forth upon it all : the sky, the cliff, the sea. Then his voice was softened as he said : " My kind, my loving Lord ! It do hurt me for to think of it that Thou should have made all this for us, and that we should give Thee back nothin' but grief an' grumblin' ! " It really seemed that fair Nature had failed as a comforter after all, as Dan'el stood there repeating the words "nothin' but grief an* grumblin'! " But the beauty of the scene got the best of it again presently. Dan'el shook himself as if flinging off all his load : " But come, Dan'el ; thou art here alone with thy Heavenly Father, an' thou must find a sweeter offering for Him than sighs an' groans. I will too, my Blessed Lord for I do love Thee for makin' things so beautiful." And he hurried down the steep little path singing cheerily as he went : " Eternal Wisdom ! Thee we praise, Thee the creation sings ; "With Thy loved name, rocks, hills, and seas, And Heaven's high Palace rings." So down the long descent until he reached the sandy beach. Then across the little bay where the deep solitude was very seldom broken by any DAN' EL'S TROUBLE, ASD WHAT HE DID WITH IT. 51 intruder ; and there amongst the rocks was Daniel's Temple j a place to which he had come many times before to plead with God, when he wanted, as he said, " to get right away alone with the Lord for something particular." It was a cave, not deep but high and rounded. The floor was of the whitest sand, decked here and there with a spray of sea- weed. The walls shining with the moisture, looked like polished pillars. The roof was fretted into curious pendants and projections, and strangely dyed, for a copper vein ran in the rock, and this acted upon by the salt water had stained the roof with brilliant blues and greens of exquisite beauty. Dan' el stood for a moment, in the low arched entrance, looking out upon the scene the towering cliffs and tossing sea. "'Tis just like Elijah," he murmured to himself, "when he turned aside and lodged in a cave. An' there dear old Frankey is gone, and I'm a'most ready to say, ( I, even I only, am left. . . . Take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers/ " Like Elijah he had been certainly in the earlier part of that memorable day fierce, indignant, jealous for the Lord of Hosts, yet depressed and wearied at heart.' But now, hid here in the clefts of the rock, it was like Moses that Dan'el pleaded with God on behalf of the Church at Penwinnin. He took upon his heart their sins and carried them with his own as a great burden before 52 DANIEL QUORM. the Lord. He took hold of the precious promises and pleaded them. He entreated the Most High for His own Name's sake. Nor did he ask in vain such earnest pleading cannot fail. To him, as to Moses in the old time, the Lord came near and pro- claimed Himself, a ad made His goodness to pass before his servant. And like Moses, too, Dan'el gathered up the souls of whom he had the care, and cried concerning them : " O Lord, let my Lord, I pray Thee, go among us ; for it is a stiff-necked people ; and pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us for Thine inheritance." # # * # # * It was with quite another look that Dan'el turned as he reached the top of the cliff again some two hours afterward, to rest a bit after his steep climb and to get a last sight of the sea. The sunshine fell full upon his face and seemed to light it up with hope and joy. There was no fierceness now; no fretting trouble. All was peace : a restful and as- sured confidence that all should yet be well. And turning towards home he stepped out with a buoy- ancy and firmness, as of one who had waited on the Lord and renewed his strength, and so could run, and not be weary, could walk all the days of life and not faint. " There," said Dan'el, as he reached home and set the stout walking-stick behind the door of the DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AXD WHAT HE DID WITH IT. 53 little cottage. " There ; that's what I do almost call a cure-all a six mile walk, a view like that, and a good time with my Blessed Master is real good physic sure 'nough, for body, soul, an 'spirit. And 'tis a brave deal nicer than doctor's trade, too." gang's trouble, anfr Mfrai jje Safo about if, .$ BOTHER DAN'EL was ready for the meeting now. As he took his place that evening in the sanded front kitchen at Thomas Toms', there was all the vigour, the joy, the sprightliness that had drooped for some weeks. He gave out the hymn with a ringing triumph, as if his soul were making its boast in the Lord : " God is the Refuge of His saints, When storms of sharp distress invade ; DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 55 Ere we can offer our complaints, Behold Him present with His aid ! " Dan' el might have been lying still in the pleasant and hallowed shelter of the cave, listening to the dash of the waves outside, he so " entered into " the words of the third verse : " Loud may the troubled ocean roar ; In sacred peace our souls abide ; While every nation, every shore, Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide." And the next verse came with such tenderness, and such manifest relish on the leader's part, that even Widow Pascoe was stirred into looking at the words to see what it was that she had never noticed in them before : " There is a Stream, whose gentle flow Supplies the city of our God ; Life, love, and joy still gliding through, And watering our divine abode." Then in the fulness and power of the afternoon's blessing, Dan'el drew near to the Throne of Grace, leading the little company into the very presence of God, and inspiring them with his own boldness. Dan'el had but one rule in the order of his Class- meeting. Whatever the Class-meeting is or is not, it surely was never meant to be a round of vague little sermons ; still less was it meant to be for preaching the very same little sermons, week after 56 DANIEL QFOK3T. week, until everybody knows them " by heart." Heart-talk real, fresh, living heart-talk this Dan 'el must have, and would. Almost anything that kept away a dead sameness, in form or phrase, commended itself to him at once. So Dan' el had no difficulty in bringing in the result of the week's meditation. He began at once : "Friends, Fve been thinkin' that I can't do better to-night than talk a bit from the Word. My mind has been runnin' a good deal lately 'pon this story here, in the thirteenth chapter of Genesis. An' I may so well give 'ee some o' my thoughts about it while they are warm." Just then a late comer lifted the latch of the door with much clatter, and was bustling at the mat outside. Dan' el waited, for all eyes were turned from him. ' ' I've heard 'em say that when poverty knock to the door, love do fly out through the window. Well, that may be true, or it mayn't. Bat this here is always true : when late comers do open the door, listenin' do fly out o' the window, or up the chimney, or somewhere. 'Tis all gone." Just as the sentence was finished, John Trundle appeared at the open door. He was always late in the old time because the village shop demanded his presence. ft Business must be attended to," was a great saying, which he quoted as solemnly as if it LAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 57 were iu the Bible; and on the strength of its warrant the Prayer-meeting, the Class-meeting, and every other week -night service must stand aside. Now that he was not so dependent on the village shop, he was always late still ; perhaps because he did not care enough about the meeting to come in time ; possibly, too, because it added to the sense of his own importance. A man of such influence was not going to be told when he should come. Dan' el waited a little longer, until the disturb- ance had ceased and Trundle had found a chair ; then he went on again very good-humouredly : " Glad to see 'ee, John ; though, there, I would rather have had 'ee here in time to begin, too. 'Twas a lovely hymn that we had. But just as you came in I was sayin' that we would have a talk from the Word to-night. 'Tis in the thirteenth chapter o' Genesis about Lot. Now I'm fine an* sorry that 'tis a subject we do want so much up here to Penwinnin. But seein' that 'tis, well I've picked it out on purpose, for I'm bound to try an' find the physic that will do most good. 'Tisn't kind, nor right neither, to go givin' folks sweet- meats and gingerbreads when they'm bad for want o' bitters ; to be a-poulticin* of 'em with figs when they be dyin* for want of a blister. So here is a subject for us to think about, an' the Lord help every one of us to take out of it what'll do us good." 58 DANIEL Dan' el spoke with a yearning tenderness that went to every heart. The thoughts that had been caught at so fiercely during the week; that had been stitched and hammered at so vigorously, came out now, not softened or edgeless, but with an in- tense desire for the good of his little flock that all felt and most of them at once responded to. "We'll begin here to the fifth verse/' Dan'el went on ; the stout forefinger guiding his sharp eye to the words : "And Lot which went with Abram. There, I don't want for to say anything unkind about the man, but I can't help thinkin' somehow as if that there was the secret of it all. Depend 'pon it, that's how it was that Lot could ever come to settle in that dreadful city he only went with Abram. He hadn't heard the Voice of God callin' him to the land o' Promise ; if he had, he never would have gone to Sodom ; or when he got there, he would have come out again a brave deal faster than he went in. That's it. He just went 'long with Abram, an' so when he sees a place where he thought he could make his fortune a bit quicker, away he goes, never mind about anything else. 'Tis just the same now-a-days. Lots o' folks think that they are quite religious enough just because they do go along with religious people and call theirselves by the same name. That'll do for a time perhaps. But there, even while it do last, they DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 59 go along so dull an' heavy that you can see in a minute their hearts are'nt in it. 'Tisn't a morsel o' good not a morsel. I've heard these kind o' people singin' : c Nail my affections to the Cross/ Nail 'em ! Why, bless 'ee, they aren't sticked with so much as a wafer. The first bit o' pleasure that beckons to 'em, an' they're off : jingle a few pieces o' silver in their ears an' you can draw 'em any- where. Friends, let us look right into our hearts an' make sure that 'tis all right with us. We shall never reach the Celestial City by just goin' along with good folks that are 'pon the road. A man must have the Voice of God comin' right home to his own heart an' callin' him into the land that He will show us. Why, once when Jesus was goin' across the sea, it do say that there was a lot o' little ships that went with Him. But when the storm came they wanted something more than that : they wanted the Blessed Master aboard with 'em then. 'Twas only them that were in the ship with Him that could come an' say, ' Master, carest Thou not that we perish ? ' Goin' along with the Lord Jesus Himself wasn't enough. So soon as ever it began to blow a bit the little ships ran for the harbour ; an' before that I expect some of 'em drifted away with the current ; an' some saw a big fish an' got the lines overboard ; and by the time the Lord was to the other side you don't hear anything more 60 DANIEL QUORX. about them. We must have the Lord Jesus aboard with us, friends. It must be Christ in the heart ; or we shall part company with Him, like Lot did with Abraham. " But there is another thing that we mustn't for- get. And Lot also, which went with Abram, had flocks, and herds, and tents. There, friends, let us mind that. 'Tisn't salvation to go 'long with good people, but mind you 'tis a good tiling for all that. So long as Lot went with Abram he had flocks, an* herds, an' tents. But when he left Abram he lost all he had, and lost it all twice over. Goin' with good folks is a good thing. You're a'most sure to pick up some o' the heavenly manna that the Blessed Father do send down for His children ; for when He opens the windows o' heaven He always sends more than there's room enough to receive, an' then there's a chance for empty souls. Why, I very often see folks so poor an' lean' an' empty in their souls that they can't do nothin' but grumble. Ah ! if they'd only get in with some old saint, and have a talk, an' a bit o' prayer, why, they'd pick up so fast that you'd hardly know 'em. There's folks that do call theirselves religious, an' yet they scarce get so much as a crumb o' comfort or a crust o' grace week in or week out." Dan' el turned significantly to the page of his Class-book, and traced the names of one or two who DAS' EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 61 were frequently absent. He sighed and shook his head. " Ah, if they'd only fall in with God's people and go 'long with 'em a bit, there'd be a blessin' for 'ein very often. 'Tisn't savin', but a man does stand a better chance o' hearin' the Voice of the Lord callin' him if he do keep company with them that are hearin' it all day long. If the little ships hadn't got Jesus aboard, still they shared in the calm when they went with them that could wake Jesus up. 'T wasn't enough to go along with Jesus when He went into the wilderness, but for all that 'twas a good thing they did all eat, and were filled" Dan' el stayed a few moments, as if he wanted that to sink in and get settled before he went on again. Then he turned to the open Bible once more. "And the land was not able to beer them, . . . fur their substance was great, so that ilicy could not dwell together. Ah! people do think that riches is always good the best of all good. But here it is doin' what Solomon says o' the talebearer, 'tis separatin* very friends. That was more than famine could do, and all their wanderin's too. 'Tis just the same with a good many folks now-a-days. Let 'em get rich, and there 'tis very soon off with the old love then ! 'Twas when money knocked to the door that Lot's love flew out o' the window, E2 62 DANIEL QUORX. and 'tis very often like that. And a good thing if their money don't come in between them an' their Best Friend, the lovin' Lord Jesus Himself. But mind, 'tisn't always so. Here's Abraham he's very rich too, but for all that he isn't altered a bit ; just so generous an' friendly as ever. But in a general way, it'll take a man with so much religion an' so big a soul as Abraham had, for to manage it right. I wonder if there's anybody that do ever pray to the Lord like Agur did, that they mayn't get rich." John Trundle started at the thought and looked up amazed. Could there be any such madness any- where ? And who was Agur ? It must be in the Apocrypha : there were all sorts of strange things there ; so John had heard. "Yet many men might do worse things than that. I've heard say that everybody thinks he could drive a gig or manage a small farm. That may be, but I do know that everybody thinks he could do a lot o' good if he only had a lot o' money. I do, my own self fine an' often. Yet I expect that five out of six of us would go hurtin' ourselves with it, body, soul, an' spirit an' hurtin' other people too. " And there was a strife. Iss there 'tis, you see. I've seen it just the same up here to Penwin- niu half-a-dozen times. A sort o' religious man do DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 63 get rich then he begins for to think great things of his own self, an' very little things o' everybody else. He begins to go up an' down, scoldin' an' fault-findin' ; an stingy too. An' they that are about en do catch his tone, an/ do imitate his ways and so there's sure to be strife in the Church and in the world." John Trundle coughed timidly as a kind of anxious protest that the cap did not fit him in any degree, and that he did not trace any possible re- semblance to himself. " I saw a picture once of a young woman, or angel, or something o' that sort, and she had a great horn in her hand filled with all kinds o' flowers an' fruits that she was flingin' out as she went along. The road behind her was all crowded with hungry folks bein' fed, an' ragged folks clothed, an' children bein' learned, and mission- aries preachin'. And on before her all sorts o' horrible things was hurry in' out of her way so fast as ever they could. Underneath the picture there was the young woman's name, an' it was called Prosperity. Well, she may be like that sometimes, an' I don't see why she shouldn't be like that always. But she isn't she isn't. I've a-seen her like an old hag of a witch; with a dreadful evil eye, ill-wishin' everybody ; goin' about a-mumblin' an' a-mutterin' all sorts o' things; her hooked 64 DANIEL QUORX. " W^ ^^^^^^^^^v'^^^^^vf^i^v^^f^^v^^ fingers tryin' to claw hold o' everything they come across. That's more like Miss Prosperity very often. Groin' about partin' friends, an' sowin' strife an' misery, an' a-grippin' an' a-grindin' everything for to bake a bigger cake for her own self. Makin' folks so grand that you don't hardly know 'em, an' makin' them so high an' mighty that they don't know you either." Again Dan'el turned to the chapter. "Then, friends, I been thinkin' a good deal about what it do say here : The Canaanite and the Pn-lzziie dwelled then in the land. Seemin' to me that this is put in for to show the danger o' the quarrel. While they was squabblin' with each other, these here heathens might come and carry away their flocks an' herds, an' perhaps theirselves too. I know that 'tis so alonsr with the Church : O only let them begin to quarrel, and the Devil can steal a' most all they've got. Why, when I was only a little lad I was old enough for to know that it was no good goin' fishin' in the still clear water they could see 'e in a minute ; 'twas in the stickles an' the broken water that we pulled 'em out. The Devil can't catch much where 'tis all calm an' peace- ful. But there it do fret me for to think o' what the old Enemy have stole from up here lately. 'Tis dreadful to think about dreadful ! Not to say nothing about the times he've drove me from my DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. G 5 work, an' the nights that he've stole sleep from my eyes ; if that was all, why, I could thank en for it, for he have overshot the mark very often, an' many an' many a blessin' I've had lately when he've sent me up to the Throne o' Grace. But there only to think what charity the old thief have took away from us ; and what peace o' mind ; an' what zeal for the Lord's work. Why, the very singin' isn't what it used to be ; an' as to power in prayer, there's scarce any left. An' then, the old thief 'tisn't only what he do steal. I s'pose he've heard folks say, ' Exchange is no robbery' or perhaps he taught 'em to say so, very likely. So he've left a lot o' his ghastly old jealousy an' bitterness be- hind en instead." As Daniel caught sight of the next verse there came a longer pause. He sighed deeply, and his voice sank into its saddest tone. " That's bad enough; isn't it, friends ? But that isn't all. Listen to this here : And Abramsaid unto Lot, Let there be no strife, I pray ihee, between me and thee. Ah ! that's the most dreadful thing about it : ME and thee. The words do keep ringin' in my ears day and night ' ME and thee.' " His voice grew husky, and the tears crept down his cheeks. "Think of it, friends. Quarrellin' among the servants do come to be fightin' against our Blessed 60 DAXIEL QUORM. Master. Lot comes up expeetin' to meet the angry blusterin' herdmen, an' he's thinkin' o' the mighty things he'll say and do. But instead o } that, here was Abraham comin' to meet him. Why, Abraham had given Lot everything that he had. He had taken him up when he was a poor orphan an' been a father to him. Why, Abraham loved him so well that he was ready to go out an' risk his life for him, an' he did too only a little bit later. An' now he comes up all so grieved-lookin', an' he holds out his hands an' says : ' Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and thee.' Ah ! friends, isn't it just like the Blessed Lord Jesus do come to you an' me ? He has given us all that we've got : life an' salvation. 'Tis all o' His mercy that we are ouu of hell. He took us into His family and made us His own children. Ah ! bless His holy Name, He has redeemed our lives from destruction with His pre- cious blood, an' laid down His life for us. An' now, friends, seemin' to me as if this Blessed Jesus do come to you an' me to-night, holdin' out His hands His pierced hands an' sayin' all so grieved, Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between ME and thee> ME and thee." For a moment Dan' el's deep feeling overcame him. Then, as if that Sacred Presence stood there visibly before him, he bowed his head. " O ! my Blessed Master, I kiss Thy out-stretched hand. DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAW ABOUT IT. 67 Let me die before ever I should come to be at strife with Thee, my blessed, crucified Redeemer ! " Presently he looked up, his voice softened and sub- dued : " Friends, I will take my share to myself, the Lord helpin' me. I do know that I'm impatient very often, an' I do speak out sharp an' quick very often. But these here words have come right home to my heart and a'most broke it : to think that ever I could be at strife with my loving Saviour ! I've been away alone with Him to-day, and I've prayed to Him with all my heart that He would pluck out this tongue o' mine, and that He'd cut off this here hand, before ever they should come to quarrel with Him." Dan'el covered his face with his hands for a minute or two, and many another head was bent in earnest silent prayer. When he looked up, his face was bright again and his voice had recovered its cheery firmness. "There," said he, wiping his eyes, " the Lord send that right into our hearts, friends, and make it stick there for to keep 'em tender. Amen." " Amen," responded a score of fervent hearts. " Well, I don't want to have all the talk to my- self; so now, friends, 'tis your turn." But as Dan'el spoke he eyed the chapter, and held the cover of the Book in his hand as if very reluctant to shut it. " Though there one might say a brave deal more 68 DANIEL QITOU3I. about it, too and ' he hesitated and looked round the little room ' if you do think that 'tis so well for ine to go on while 'tis all fresh 'pon my mind, I will." It was young Captain Joe that spoke out : " I believe the Lord gave you the message a-purpose for us, my dear leader ; and if He have, then you're bound to deliver it all." Almost every head nodded its approbation. Only John Trundle looked as if he wished to break the thread of the discourse ; but he checked himself, and tried to cough a little cough of utter indifference, as if it were a matter that really did not concern him in any way. Widow Pascoe, for her part, main- tained an air of severe neutrality. In a moment the cover of the sacred old Bible dropped back again on the table, and Dan'el's finger lighted at once on the ninth verse. " Is not the whole land before thce ? that's what Abraham said separate thyself, I pray thee, from me : if thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the lejt. If it be possible, as much aslieth in us, we are to live peaceably with all men. But if you can't, then better part in peace than live in strife. "Well, Lot jumps at the chance directly. He was the youngest, and owed everything to Abraham. Never mind that he was too rich to be generous. DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 69 I can hear him mutterin' to hisself : ' A man with so many flocks and herds dependin' upon him must look sharp and take care 'tis a very responsible position/ And I can hear him saying too, just like these worldly kind o' religious people go excusia' theirselves to-day : ( You see, uncle is so open- hearted and unsuspecting that if I didn't take ad- vantage of his kindness, somebody else would so I s'pose that I must take my choice.' It was bad enough that Lot should choose at all, friends, but 'twas a hundred times worse that he should choose what he did. But let us read about it : " He lifted up his eyes. There he walked by sight. An' what he saw was all lovely ; a valley well watered everywhere, so beautiful as the garden o' the Lord. Ah ! but what he didn't see was a good deal more than what he did. It always is. He should have had a bit o' prayer about it ; then the Lord would have opened his eyes to see the fires o' hell creepin' up ready to burst upon the place an' to burn 'em all flocks an' tents an' herds an' every- thing. Lot saw that the place was well watered everywhere that was enough, what more could any- body wish for ? So away he went, to live there. " I've got an old book home, and it do say that there was a heavy mortgage on that estate. There was, friends, sure 'nough. Listen to this here in the thirteenth verse : Bat ihe men of Sodom ivere ici'-kcd 70 DANIEL QUORX. and sinners before the Lord exceedingly. Ah ! Lot, if you could get that there estate in a gift, you'd never make anything out of it. So sure as ever you do set foot in the place you'll lose all you've got an' a nice miss if you don't perish your own self, too. " I do often see it, friends, fine an' often. And I've watched it for years. Here's a young fellow doin' good in the Sunday-school and other ways, promisin' to be a useful man when we old folks are gone home. You'll hear en singin' so lusty : ' Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small ; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.' But somebody sends down word that he can make half-a-crown a week more wages up to London. That's enough. No prayer about it ; no askin' the Lord what He do see. No thinkin' about the Lord's work. He do lift up his eyes and see that 'tis 'well watered,' and he's off. ' I must get on/ says he ; and he says it so pious as if it was one o' the ten commandments but 'tisn't, friends, 'tisn't, though you do hear it so often. An' I don't believe that there's any must about it either. If a man is the Lord's man then I know another must that ought to swallow up all the rest, like Aaron's rod swallowed the others: ' I must get up,' that's the Christian's DAlfEL'S TROUBLE, AXD WHAT UK SAID ABOUT IT. 71 must, 'an' if I can get on, too, I will. But I must get up/ " There's lot's o' these here Lots about still. Aw iss iss. 'Tis a nice farm, well watered, an' all that, an' so fine a wheat-growin' parish as there is in the kingdom. But mind the mortgage. 'Tis miles away from any Gospel preachin' ; an' you must go where your landlord do ; an' you must vote accordin' to his orders. Why, it do put a bit o' temper into me for to see a man o' the world that God have made in His own image an' likeness, go a-sellin' hisself like that. But when 'tis a man that do talk pious about the Lord bein' his Master, an' yet he will go an' sell hisself, body, soul an' spirit, for a bit o' gain, or a bit more business, or a bit o' some fine body's favour, 'tis dreadful sure 'nough ! I don't wonder that the Heavenly Father do make 'em smart for it, like He did Lot. An' serve 'em right, too." "But we must make the best of both worlds, you know, Daniel," said John Trundle, finishing with a sort of little cough that meant " It doesn't con- cern or scarcely interest me ; only, others may be helped by the remark." " Humph," said Dan' el, scratching his head for a few seconds, and turning it over. " That isn't Scripture, John." John started. He had a faint idea that it was 72 DANIEL QPOfiJf. somewhere in the Book of Proverbs. "No, John, no. I don't know it ; an' I don't believe it either. But there if it was, I fancy it would be well thumbed, an' these kind o' worldly religious folks would call that their favourite passage. An' what would they mean by it ? Why, that you're bound for to get so much o' this here world as ever you can ; an' just so much o' the next world as is wanted for to make it all right if death was to take 'ee unawares. No. There isn't two worlds only one. An' the only world that you and I have got to live in is where we can do the will o' the Father as it is done in heaven." " Well, but it says be diligent in business," said John, nodding his head with a sort of triumphant certainty this time. "It do, John, an' it do mean it too not slothful in business. Folks who don't put their heart into their work, don't serve the Lord. Idlers an' drones and them that can't buckle to and do a downright good day's work, is poor Christians hardly worth the name." " But the difficulty that I find is this," said young Captain Joe : " diligence in business is apt to take such a hold o' your thoughts that somehow or other it pushes everything else out o' mind ; and you are carried away until there is scarcely any thought or any heart left for anything else. I've found it so, I'm sorry to say." DAN'EL'S TKOrBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 73 "Iss and so have I, Cap'n Joe. But 'tis only because we put asunder what God have joined to- gether. Seemin' to me, friends, that this here ' Not-slothful-in-business ' is like Adam in the garden of Eden. He's put there for ' to dress it and to keep it/ But God says : 'It is not good that the man should be alone ; I will make him an help meet for him/ And so the lovin' Father sends the fair Fervent-in-spir'd to be joined in matrimony . 'long with this Not-slothful-in-biisiness. Then when they do take each other, an' do love an' honour an' cherish each other, they'll go on well, ' serving the Lord/ Not-slotltful-in-ltusiness is a poor bachelor. He is like some sheep that are very good kind o' sheep, only they will break the fence, and so they must be coupled. Couple en up wi:h Fervent- in- spirit an' they'll go well together." Then Dan'el turned again to the Bible. " But, friends, I wanted to say a word or two more about this story o' Lot. Sodom must have had a bad name even then. And Lot had religion enough to make him feel a bit uncomfortable, I expect, before he could go right down amongst 'em and live there. I do believe, friends, that we lose ever so much o' the meaning o' the Bible because we go forgettin' that folks in them there old times was made o' just the same flesh an' blood, as we are now-a-days. An' Lot talked the matter over with his wife just tho 74 DANIEL QUORM. same as them .that are like him do talk to-day : I can almost hear 'em : ' Well/ says Lot, ' I can't help thinking dear, that 'tis really quite providential that this matter should have happened right here in sight 'o this beautiful place/ For Providence with these folks is what pays. I knew one of 'em once ; he bought a share in a mine down here. Well, so long as ever the mine was a-paying dividends, 'twas such a merciful providence that he was led to buy that share. But when tin went down, an' there was no dividend, then he feared that he had gone out of his providential path ! Their provi- dence haven't got anything to do with tribulations and trials." Widow Pascoe sighed and shook her head. " And so it haven't got anything to do with triumphs an' glorious victories either. No, 'tis nothing but makin' money an' gettin' on. " And if Lot's wife were like the women be now- a-days some of 'em, I mean I do know what she would say. She'd say, c Yes, 'dear it does seem so. An' it will be such a pleasant place for the girls, too. Their Uncle Abraham is very good, and all that, you know ; but it really is very dull for 'em, poor dears, dreadfully dull. They'll get to know some nice pleasant families, I hope, an' mix a little i:i society. 0' course we must be careful ! the place h is not got a very good name.' DAN'EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. 75 " ' Iss, we must/ says Lot, feelin' uncomfortable; ' it have got a very bad name indeed/ " ' But it is so well watered/ says his wife. ' And we must not be uncharitable enough to believe all that people say, you know. Besides, think o' what a sphere of usefulness we shall have down there ! ' " Ah ! Lot, you shall only escape by the skin o j your teeth. But as for your wife, she shall perish t'.iere turned into a pillar of salt ; neither in Sodom nor out of it, but between the two, like a monument put up for to show what do come o' tryin' to make the best o' both worlds." Widow Pascoe sighed again deeply. The women always did get the worst of it according to Dan'el. Then Dan'el closed the Bible and spoke very gravely : " There ; IVe ti ied to say what was 'pon my mind. Now the Lord send it home to our hearts. Seemin' to me, that 'tis wanted a'most everywhere, and up here to Penwinnin just so much as anywhere else. Let us take it to ourselves. This Lot was religious, a just man an' a godly man ; but for all that, you see, he was too much o' a worldly man, an* it was nearly the death of him. I believe 't would have been, but for Abraham. On here in the nine- teenth chapter it do say that when God destroyed the cities o' the plain, He remembered Abraham 8 75 DANIEL QUOfi3f. and sent Lot out o' the place. The fact is, that ; tisn't enough for a man to get a bit o' the fear o' God in his heart, or a bit o' His love, an then to think that he can go on lovin' the world an' huggin' it up so much as he mind to. Seek ye first the king- dom o' God don't mean that we must first go and settle that matter once for all, and then 'tis all right for ever and we can please ourselves about how much o' the world we'll have. We must put it first, aru keep it there ; or depend 'pon it that we shan't keep it at all. Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness ; and all these things shall be added unto you." John Trundle nodded his head and repeated the words, as his hand played with his gold chain, " all these things" " ' All these things/ " Dan'el went on as if he had not heard John's voice "but see what the promise is." And the Bible was opened at the sixth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel. "Xot ever so much money an' land an' a fine house an' costly clothes an' dainty meats an' drinks. No, no. The Heavenly Father do love His children too 'much for to promise us things like that. Enough to eat, enough to drink, and enough to put on : that's the ' all these things' An' I'm certain that there never was a man yet that put the kingdom o' God an' His righteousness in their proper place, but he had them DAN" EL'S TROUBLE, AND WHAT HE SAID ABOUT IT. / 7 three. An' there never was a wise man yet that haviii' them three went frettin' for more. " But 'tis that first that I do want us to mind. 1 Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His right- eousness/ While I been readin' the story o' Lot an' Abraham I've thought 'pon it again an' again. Here's a man that put the gain first, an' he lost all that he had twice over. Here is a man who wanted nothin' but an altar for the Lord an' a tent for. his own self, and God made him one o' the greatest men that ever lived the father o' kings and o' peoples. Do mind it, friends. Put the kingdom o' God an' His righteousness first. Not the well-watered field, nor the good wages, nor anybody's favour but first the kingdom o' God. If 'tisn't there it will soon be nowhere. " I don't know much about the ways o' queens an' knights an' such like. But I was thinkin' of it like this : Here comes Her Majesty 'pon the horse, and here's the knight : he've got the bridle, an' he's walkin' along by her side, carryin' his jewelled cap in his hand ; an' he's all eyes for his gracious Queen, an' is so quick an' graceful. There, that's a pretty pictur' of a good knight. "But what do 'ee think o' this? Here's the knight up on the horse his own self. ' Where's tlie Queen, Sir Knight ? ' '0, she's comin' oil behind somewhere ! ' s2 78 DANIEL QUORM. " An' there she is, pickin' her way through the mud an' pushin' her way through the crowd ! Why, friends, I never did try my hand at that sort o' thing, but I think I'd have that traitor off that horse in a minute, an' I'd go down an' be the Queen's knight myself, clumsy old fellow as I am, afore I'd see her treated like that. Well, so long as our Religion is up on the horse an' we're waitin' 'pon her, we shall go the way Abraham went. But when this here self of ours is stuck up ridin' about, carin' for nothin' but gain or comfort or pleasure, an' only lookin' back over the shoulder to see if our Religion is comin' on behind all right through the mud an' the crowd don't wonder if she's gone. She won't put up with that. And don't wonder either if thou art clapt into the dungeon 'pon bread an' water as thou dost deserve. 'Tisn't enough to be religious. We must put religion first, an' keep it there ; or depend 'pon it, friends, we shan't keep it at all." VI. gang's Cottons about |lr*ar|nn0. UNDAY at Penwinnin was a fair specimen of " the Lord's Day " in the mining districts of Cornwall. A sacred stillness rested upon every- thing, strangely impressive after 80 DANIEL QUORM. hearing through day and night the roar of the stamps, and the clank and clatter of the other mine machinery. In place of the miners in red-stained dress, with the candle stuck in front of the hard round hat, with pick and borer and powder-tin on the shoulder, there came to-day groups of serious looking men, in sober black. The merry mine- maidens who had gone to and fro with their large, loose sun bonnets, appeared now in colours bright and gay as their own ruddy cheeks, and with rib- bons too profuse and brilliant, perhaps, to please a severe taste. The stillness seemed to give a new charm to those grand old granite hills, standing out in the calm, clear air, so sharply cut and so richly coloured, against a sky of the deepest blue. Is it the nearness of the sea, or is it the frequent rain that gives such a depth of colour, such greens to the grassy slopes, such a vivid yellow to the furze, such colour even to the rocks, hoary with lichens of daintiest hues, the patches of deep orange relieved by velvet borders of dark moss ? But already the earliest comers gather about the door of the little whitewashed chapel the women going in and taking their places on the free seats on " the women's side ; " the men standing about the door, as if somewhat shy of entering by themselves. Rapidly the worshippers arrive now, for Dan'el DAN'EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT PREACHING. 81 is to preach this morning, and he is a great favour- ite : the place will be filled, aisles and all. Curious hearers of the well-to-do class come up from Red- burn. Homelier groups come down from the little cottages perched in queer, out-of-the-way places, by narrow roads between the thick, high hedges that shut them in hedges whose banks of moss are now quite hidden by primroses and luxuriant clusters of fern, whilst the sweet breath of violets scents all the air. Others come through the fields, over the awk- ward stiles and past the refuse heaps of old mine workings and perilous shafts, half -hidden by thick growth of bramble. As we go on together, good reader, it will be worth while to hear Dan' el's notions about preach- ing; notions that had often been turned over, well hammered out and very firmly held. It was as ho cobbled away one Monday morning that a talk of the previous day's sermon with young Cap'n Joe, gave an opportunity of expressing his opinions on this matter. "Well, Cap'n Joe, my advice to everybody is this : Don't you preach if you can help it. 'Tisn't enough for a man to want to preach. Nor yet for a man to fancy that he could preach. If that was all, good Preachers would be so common as black- berries. An' 'tisn't enough for other folks to think that a man's got a call to preach either ; though 82 DANIEL QUORM. there is something in that. No ; afore ever a man hare got any business in the pulpit, he must feel like it was 'long with Jeremiah the prophet. You know, he thought he'd give up preaching an' take his name off the plan. I will not make mention of Him, nor speak any more in His name : that is what he said. An' if a man can hold his tongue an' be comfortable about it, 'tis the best thing he can do : there's gabble an' cackle enough in the world a'ready, what with geese and other folks. But, bless 'ee ! Jeremiah could no more hold his tongue than he could fly : His word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with for- bearing, and I could not stay. There : when a man do feel like that, he'll preach somehow : he must. An' if a man have never felt like that, well, the Heavenly Father may have meant him for a decent shoemaker, Cap'n Joe, or a carpenter or somethin o' that sort ; but he was never meant for a Preacher 't all, an' nobody could ever make a Preacher out of him either. "Why, you can tell 'em in a minute a'most before they do open their mouths; for there's nothing in this world that's further off from each other than them two : the Preacher that men do make and the Preacher that is sent by God. I've noticed that the old prophets always had ' a burden' afore they spoke. Like as if the message o' the Lord laid DAN'EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT PREACHING. 83 heavy upon 'em, an' pressed them day an' night. That's the difference, Cap'n Joe, between men that can preach an' men that can't. The prophet that is come from the Lord do feel the truth all over him. It do take up all his thoughts, an' do press 'pon his heart, givin' him a thrill o' joy in it his own self, or else makin' him tremble at it with very fear. It'll be ringin' in his ears day an' night, a-followin' him wherever he goes, an' whatever he's a-doin' of. Why, when the Word o' the Lord comes 'pon me like that, I can't help hammerin' my shoes to the text that I got runnin' in my mind, an' stitchin' 'em with it, like as if it was the application. The very clock will keep tickin' it in my ears, an' a'most everything that I see do come to be mixed up with it. There 'tis, seemin' to me : the Word must be a burnin' fire shut up in the man's bones ; an' then he'll preach, then he'll preach." And Dan' el tapped away at the sole as if that settled the matter. Cap'n Joe was turning the notion quietly over in his mind, without saying a word. Presently Dan'el looked up again, the little eye twinkling merrily : "An' talking o' bones do put me in mind of another thing. I've heard tell about Skeleton Ser- mons. Now, seemin' to me, Cap'n Joe, that there's only one way for a sermon not to be a skeleton. It must come out of a man's own heart, wrapt up in his own flesh an' blood, an' breathin' with the man's DAXJEL QUORIT. * ' ^X^N^^fcXN^^M^^^wXVX^wX- own life. If it don't, then there'll be bones ; dead bones; nothing but bones. Put together all in order, I dare say, but bones only, Cap'n Joe, for all that. No naturalness about 'em I do mean no life an' no realness, but a sort of a ghostly thing that you can see through. All varnished an' shinin', may be, but dead bones still. Why, I should every bit so soon expect for to see a passle o' skeletons a- walkin' about, as to meet them there kind o' good people that you hear about sometimes from the pul- pit, or them there dreadful sinners. I should so soon expect for to see a skeleton standin' up to young Polsue's smithy a-pullin' the bellows, or to see a couple of 'em sittin' down here alongside o' me, mendin' shoes, as to see them there kind o' ser- mons anywhere out o' the pulpit. They'm skeletons, Cap'n Joe; an' all they're good for is to be kept locked up in a box, and brought out every two or three years, so dead as dust an' so proper as nothin'. There's no life in 'em ; no kind o' brotherliness for to shake hands with 'e an' for to wish anybody brave speed. I've very often thought when I've been listenin' to 'em that these here kind o' skeleton sermons would do very well perhaps for a lot o' skeletons to listen to if you could only get 'em together : very good for them that aren't troubled with any flesh an' blood, an' so haven't got to work for their bread an' cheese, an' never need a new DAX'EL'S NOTIOSS ABOUT PREACHING. 85 suit o' clothes, much less a button put on or a pair o' stockings for to be mended. You see, Cap'n Joe, if you happen for to step 'pon their corns, why, they can't feel it, an' that makes a deal o' difference ; so 'tis no wonder that they do stand all the day long smilin' with such a lovely smile, like as if nothing couldn't put 'em out. " Though, there it won't do for me to set my- self up for knowing how to do it better than other folks; but I have learnt this here lesson: A man may think about his text so much as ever he mind to, am' get ever so much light 'pon it; but when he've made his cake, he must take an' bake it down by the fire o' his own heart : and that do mean that he've got some fire down there. Skeletons haven't; thoy'mall head an' ribs. There 'tis, Cap'n Joe, depend 'pon it. A man must take the text down to his own heart an' find out what 'tis to his own self : then he can talk about it. He must get the Blessed Lord to be to his own soul what he is tellin' about to other people ; then it'll come for to have some real flesh an' blood an' life about en. Never mind what a man do think or what he do see ; my belief is that he can't preach any more o' the Gospel than he have got in his own heart." Dan' el set down the worn out boot that he was patching, and took up the Bible that always lay near at hand. " Here, Cap'n Joe, if you do want to find how 86 DANIEL QUOfi.V. the Lord do make Preachers, an' whei*9 they are to get their sermons from, 'tis in the fifth o' Mark, an' somewhere about the nineteenth verse." " About the man that had the devils cast out of him," said Cap'n Joe, as he found the place. " Iss, that's it. You see, he wanted to be with Jesus, but I expect he was too old for to go to College, an' Jesus said to him : (i Go an' tell the peo- ple what great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion upon thee.' That's the only kind o' Preacher : he that can tell about the Lord Jesus because He has done great things for the man his own self. He can tell how kind an' lovin' an' gentle Jesus is, because He had com- passion upon him. Then it will come up like the water in a spring, fresh and clear an' delicious. An' like I've heard tell o' water too, it do always find its level. If a sermon do come from the lips an' no deeper, it'll get to the ear an' no further. An' if it do come from the head, it'll get into the head an' soon be out again most likely. But if it do come from the heart, Cap'n Joe, depend 'pon it it will get to the heart and be there a well o' water springing up into life. Iss, that's it, I'm sure, Cap'n : as a man ' thinketh in his heart, so is he' : and according to what a man's got in his heart so will he preach. If there's nothing in there but old blessiu's that come years ago, then there'll be nothing DAN-EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT PREACHING. 87 but old sermons. That's how 'tis that there do come to be dry Preachers : they haven't been drawin' any water lately for their own selves out o' the wells o' salvation. 'Tis a pity that the Lord's ambassadors should ever come to be like them wily fellows o' Gibeon, that took old sacks 'pon their asses, an' wine bottles, old an' rent, an' old shoes an' clouted 'pon their feet, an' all the bread 'o their provision was dry and mouldy. However good it was once, though it was took hot out o' the oven, the bread will get dry an' mouldy if you do keep it long enough : an' so will sermons too. . A Preacher is a man who do want anointin' with fresh oil once a week to keep en from dryin' up. Seemin' to me that it ought to be now like it was 'long with the people o' Israel : they was fed with manna that come down from Heaven fresh an' new every mornin'. David wanted new joys before he could preach, an' so do we too." And Dan' el hammered away again, nodding his head as if that matter was settled beyond all doubt, and he wasn't going to hear a word more about it. "You're right, Dan'el. I can see it plain enough," said young Cap'n Joe. " 'Tis true, every word of it." " Iss, an' there's another thing about gettin' the y truth into other people's hearts. I've heard folks talk about preachin' at people, like as if it was the dreadfulest thing in all the world. Why, 'tis the DAXIEL only kind o' preachin' that is worth the name. Pick 'em out an' aim at 'em so straight as ever you can. What ! go shootin' an' not shoot at the bird. Fire under en or above en or all round en ; anywhere except at en, for fear o' hittin' en an' bringin' en down ! That's playin' the fool when 'tis for sparrows an' blackbirds; but when you are only trying to bring down men an' women 'tis quite fitty au. proper ! Pack o' stuff an' nonsense ! Why,. I can't preach a morsel if I don't preach straight at people. When I'm a-turnin' over the text I do try an' pick out what'll suit us over here to Penwinnin, an' preach accordin'. I do go over the congregation, an' ask the Blessed Lord to give me a word for them, one by one ; you among the rest. An' I do think what there is in it for one an' another; what comfort there is in it for old Widow Polsue ; an' what bit o' help for one or two that have had plenty to make 'em feel a bit down. There's one seekin' the Lord, an' he do want a bit of encouragin' ; an' thei'e's another do want a word o' warnin', for the world is swallowin' en all up. And then I got to look about an' find a morsel for the children. An' poor Bob Byles' wife tryin' to keep up as she is with all her little ones. I must get a word o' comfort out o' it for her. An' you must hold it out straight to 'em, Cap'n Joe, if you do mean 'em to take it. If you don't, they are sure to think that 'tis for somebody DAN'EL- S NOTIONS ABOUT PREACHING. 89 else. Iss, good powder an' shot is often lost for want of a good aim an' so is a good many sermons. Preacli at the folks, Cap'n Joe straight at 'em. " An' mind not to forget the windows. Be sure o' that. Every sermon ought to be builded like the Lord told Xoah to build the ark a window shall tlwu make in the ark" " Windows, Dan'el ! " said Cap'n Joe, looking up perplexed. " What are they ? " Dan'el turned from his work and pointed to the little window, crowded as it was with tools and scraps of leather and odds and ends. " Why, for to let the light in through, to be sure, Cap'n. An' not only for to let light in a skylight would do that well enough. See how nice it is to look out through, an' to see my little bit 9' garden, an' Farmer Gri fa- ble's fields, with the daisies an' the buttercups, an' the lambs a-friskin' about. That's what windows are for, in houses an' sermons too, Cap'n Joe." " You mean illustrations, Dan'el ? " " 0' course I do ! An' a sermon without them is like a house without windows. Everybody must ha' noticed how the Blessed Jesus kept tellin' the people about the lost sheep, or the prodigal son, or the faithless steward, or the ten virgins. An' how He kept saying, " The kingdom o' heaven is like " this an' like that. Folks will always prick up their ears so soon as ever the Preacher do begin with his likes. 90 LANIEL QUOHJf. Why, I can't help thinkin' that half the purpose o' the grand old stories in the Bible, about Goliath, and Samson, an' Joseph, an* David, about Moses and Elijah an' Dan' el is for that very thing : for to make windows with 'em. Poor old Clyma, down to Red- burn, built a house an' forgot any window in one o' the rooms, an' he never heard the last of it." "Yes, I've often heard of that as a joke against old Simon," said Cap'n Joe. " Well, for my part, I do believe a man do make every bit so big a blunder for to build a sermon without any illustrations. Why, nine folks out 'o ten aren't accustomed for to think over things at all ; an' the machinery that they've got for to think with is all rusty for want o' use. "Pis no good sayin' that they ought to be made to think : you must make the best o' what you got. An' there's women and children, why, if the Preacher do go argeyin' it out, they're sure to get nothin' out o' that. But they are used to seem' things : every one o' them can look 'pon a picture. Put in a story, or one o' the Blessed Master's likes, and it'll be a win- dow for to let the light in through ; an' if you mind to make it so, 'twill be a window for to let 'em look out through too 'pon a pretty little bit of a view. I do know that there's high an' mighty folks that pretend for to think that preachin' like that isn't learned, an' all that. They do like something that LABEL'S NOTIONS ABOUT PREACHING. nobody can't understand. But I'm sure that 'tis a brave deal better for to try an' be like the Blessed Master. Seemin' to me as if He Who taught us how to pray have showed us how to preach. An' depend 'pon it we can't do better than sit down at His feet in this as in everything else, an' learn of Him Who is ' meek and lowly in heart.' ' Then Dan' el turned to his work. "But there, Cap'n Joe, this here is only my opinion after all. Let other folks have their notions and stick to 'em. There's heaps o' people that I can't do no good to, an' so I s'pose that we do want different sorts o' Preachers for different kind o' hearers. There is some that can't eat nothing but gingerbread trade 'long with gilt stuck all over it. An' there's some that will spend all their money 'pon nuts that there's no crackin'. An' there's other folks again that would sooner have a hot pasty with good beef an' 'taties in en ; an' I'm one o' them there." " Well, Dan'el, there's no accounting for tastes/' said young Cap'n Joe, laughing. "No; 'specially when people haven't got no appetite an' no relish either, Cap'n Joe/' Dan'el added, joining in the laugh. For a minute or two he bent over his work again ; then looking up, he finished the talk in a tone much more serious than that in which he had spoken before. " But there I'm sure that I'm not clever enough 92 DAXIEL QUORM. nor anyhow fit for to give my advice. I could never preach my own self like I wanted to, much less like I ought to ; an' what I've done in that way is fine an' wished, sure 'nough, full o' faults an' failin's. But I have tried for to make the Word plain and simple, so that folks could understand it. 'Tis a terrible thing, Cap'n Joe, an' it do often make me tremble when I do hear Preachers preachin' in this here grand an' highflown style. When the Lord have set a watchman for to give warnin', if his Master have given 'en a silver trumpet, by all means let en use it maybe some folks that are very par- ticular about the looks and sound o' things will take more notice of it than they would of an old rani's horn like mine is. But whether 'tis 'pon ram's horns or 'pon silver trumpets, do let a man take care that he sounds it out plain, so that folks can be sure o' what he means. I've heard folks, an' generally with nothin' but ram's horns either, try to sound the warnin' with so many twists and twirls an' shakes an' flourishes, an' grand kind o' runnin' up an' down, that you couldn't make anything out of it; only like as if he was tryin' for to make folks think how lovely he was playin', an' thinkin' about the collec- tion afterward. When I do hear them kind o' Preachers, I do feel a'most ready for to think o' what the Bible do say o' Judas : His bishoprick let 'in of her take." VII. tp at Ijtntommht, anb juar T is time for us to enter the chapel, if we hope to secure a seat, for the little place is already nearly filled. Looking around at the uneven white- washed walls, one's first thought is that whatever else may have attracted the people it certainly cannot be the beauty of the building. A plainer place could scarcely be imagined. At one end of it is the pul- pit an absurdly high box that reaches almost to the ceiling; the Bible, well worn and with many loose leaves projecting beyond the gilt edges, rest- ing with the Hymn-Book on a cushion of faded - 9 94 DANIEL QUORX. velvet. Round the chapel there is a row of hat pegs now more than filled piled up with hats aud caps and a motley collection of head-gear. The pews are tall and high, ugly and uncomfortable, as if designed to render sleep impossible for the drowsy hearer. They stand with a stiff and Pharisaic con- tempt for the bare and backless forms in front and on either side of them, which are set apart as the free seats. A little gallery opposite the pulpit completes the heavy and ungainly appearance of the place. But, good reader, do not despise these little whitewashed chapels which dot the bleak hill-sides of Cornwall, or cluster in the villages. Ugly and old-fashioned though they be, yet they are hallowed places, and many in heaven look down and hold them dear and sacred, second only to that Celestial City itself, paved with gold, and with gates of pearl. By all means let us have strength and beauty in the sanctuary strength first and always; then beauty, too, if we can. He Who made the trees of Paradise not only " good for food," but also " pteasant to the sight," would have things fair and beautiful. Let us, however, be careful to imitate the wisdom and tenderness of our gracious Master : " I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now." Do not let us carry our forms of worship any more than our religious teaching greatly in advance WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN. 95 of the people, or we shall drive them from us. Better a hundred times that little place at Pen- winnin, if people feel at home in it, than the most perfect Gothic structure, if they should sit uncom- fortably subdued by a style of things to which, they are all unused. Let rich Mr. Trundle and his fas- tidious daughters go to " church," as they threaten to do : that is a very little matter compared with the evil of having that plain, hearty, happy service at Penwinnin "churched" into stiffness and coldness and formality. It is very foolish to suppose that Gothic architecture, and stained glass windows, and syllabic tunes sung in " strict time," must of neces- sity do all this ; but our wisdom lies assuredly, in not allowing either architect or choir-master to spfc the standard of taste ; nor the advanced worshipper, even though he be willing to pay for it. Let us study those for whom the place is built. They will go, and rightly too, where they can find homeliness and heart. But Dan'el enters the pulpit, and the service begins. The opening hymn is a familiar one, and is sung to a familiar " trumpet metre " that always goes well. It told what Dan'el thought of the little chapel : " Lord of the worlds above ! How pleasant and how fair The dwellings of Thy love, Thy earthly temples, are 1 96 DANIEL QUORM. ^U^SX^V^^VX^J^Vv^Vj^V^^V^^J-V^^XX^J^Vy-V^VX^^ To Thine abode ~My heart aspires With warm desires To see my God." Everybody sings ; heartily too, and in tune, the roll of the bass from " the men's side," and the clear treble of " the women's side/' gaining each a richer fulness by the old-fashioned division. The tune is one in which the treble and bass part com- pany for half a line, like a stream cleft by a rock, each holding on its way to meet again rapturously at the end of the verse. Well, it is bad taste to admire those old tunes with " their twists and their twirls an' their shakes an' their flourishes all up an' down," as Dan' el would say. Many of them cer- tainly did run to absurd lengths ; yet whether we have tunes ancient or modern, would that we always had such music in our worship and such heartiness as that with which the words ring out this morning ! " The Lord His people loves ; His hand no good withholds From those His heart approves, From holy, humble souls : Thrice happy he, Lord of hosts, Whose spirit trusts Alone in Thee." And now Dan' el kneels in prayer. As he pleads, simply and earnestly with the Heavenly Father, an irregular volley of Amen rises from all parts of the chapel ; once or twice giving place to a, rapturous Praise the Lord ! WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN. 97 To you, good reader, this is perhaps more than unpleasant. You like something at least devout and orderly. This distracts your thoughts; it offends your sense of reverence. The Lord is in His Holy Temple. Well, they are an excitable and sometimes noisy people, these West Cornish Methodists; and there are times when the fervour and noise rise to a much higher pitch than on this Sunday morning. There is too, perhaps, a tendency to rest in such excitement; to let the religious life expend itself in such rapture. Yet it is only fair to ask ourselves, Where again can we find such a host of devout, pray ing, godly men as amongst these Cornish miners, born and bred amidst these noisy services ? And it may be well to ask further, whether intense religious feeling must, or can indeed, flow always in the channels that are dug for it ? David danced with all his might before the Lord, much to the annoyance and vexation of his more esthetic wife. And Abraham, that right reverend father, " fell upon his face, and laughed " when God gave him the promise of a son. And as to the Primitive Christians, there must have been no little noise in the streets of Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost when Peter had to make this defence of the disciples : " These are not drunken, as ye suppose." At any rate, good reader, these Western folk huve some real religion to make a noise over and 98 DANIEL QUOEiT. that certainly is better than that most dumb pro- priety without any religion, with which most of us are much more familiar. Cancel's text that morning was from Malachi iii. 10 : Prove Me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be TUOKI enough to receive it. Taking off the big spectacles, Dan'el laid them slowly beside him, and after a long pause burst out suddenly, in a tone that almost startled one, and iu his sharp, jerky manner: "Friends, things 'long with Israel in Malachi's time was just the same as they be up to Penwinnin now ivisht ; dreadful w is fit. An' for the same reason too. They forgot for to pay the Lord's dues." Again Dan'el paused, and, in place of the sharp- ness, he spoke with tenderness and grief: "But there's one thing here that do come right to my heart. I can hardly think about anything else, friends. 'Tis this : How the Lord longed for to bless them. An', bless His name, He is just the same to us as He was to them. Ah ! friends, I believe 'tis a real grief to Him, and it do hurt His love when we shut the windows o' heaven. No wonder that we should pray to the Lord, poor an' needy as we are, an' dependin' 'pon His bounty for everything. But here is a wonder, sure 'nough for here is the King WE WORSHIP AT PESWINNJN. 90 o' Glory a-beggin' an' prayin' of its ; an' what for ? Why, to let Him bless us like He wants to ! " Yet these were people that had done enough to provoke Him past all patience. They had robbed Him, an' He their lovin' and pitiful Father ! They had gone tellin' lies about Him an' His blessed service. They had cheated Him o' His tithes an' dues. They had insulted Him with anything that was poor an' bad an' torn an' worn out. And after all that the Lord do speak all full o' pain an' grief. He's longin' to have His son come back to His heart again. Return unto Me, says He. And the way He says it is all so grieved an' sorrowful that it might break anybody's heart to hear Him ; the Lord open our ears to hear it. Return unto Me, and I will return unto you, saith the Lord. " And now, friends, I do want you to look well at the text ; long enough for to see this here very plain. Folks can read a bill an' know all about it to a ha'penny the first time o' goin' over it. I do wish that they'd read their Bibles like they do their bills. Then they would come to see something in the text that most people don't think about. This is what the Lord wanted the tithes for, because then He could open the windows o' Jieaven and send down a great llessin'. " There's scores o' people do hear them words : Bring all the tithes into the storehouse an' then 1 00 DANIEL QUORM. they're off. They never think what 'tis for. Poor things ! the crack o' the Master's whip is in their ears; an' they must dig an' sow an' reap an' bring in the uttermost f arthin' like as if the Blessed Father only wanted for to get out of us so much as ever He could. If they waited long enough for to look at the text they'd see very different from that. Bless His name, what He wants is for to give us so much as we can carry away. So He do ask for the tithes like as if He wanted us to get rid o' some o' our common stuff to make a bit o' room for His great blessin'. " Why, down here, 'long with us, spite o' our wants an' our greediness, 'tis more blessed for to give than to receive. What must it be, then, with the lovin' Lord Who gave Himself for us ! how He must long for to fill up all our wants ! An' so He do ask for the tithes, just like Elijah asked for the first cake, but it was only that he might fill the widow's barrel o' meal an' increase her oil. 'Tis like the Blessed Jesus, sittin' there 'pon the well, all thirsty an' tired. He says to the woman, ' Give Me to drink.' But He was thinkin' about her all the time, an' wantin' her to ask for a cup o' the water o' life that she might never thirst any more. Why, the Bible is full of it. 'Tis like the sons o' Jacob when they went down to Egypt, and they took a little present o' balm an' honey an' nuts, and they brought it down to the palace o' this here great WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN. prince. They were all so frightened, an' trembled all over an' bowed their heads. But the prince fetched 'em in to dinner with him, an' he filled their sacks with corn. An' that wasn't half enough. He fell 'pon their necks an' said, c I am Joseph your brother'; an' he couldn't rest till he had brought them all down into the land o' Goshen to live right there along with him. 'Tis just like that, dear friends, with our lovin' Lord. ' Bring in the tithes,' says He, ' that there may be meat in Mine house/ but He can't stop there, an' we mustn't either, ' and prove Me now herewith, if I will not open you the windows o' heaven, an' pour you out a blessin', that there shall not be room enough to receive it.' "Now the Lord send the word home to our hearts while we think o' these here three things. First, The windows o 3 heaven are shut over us. Second, We have been and shut 'em our own seines. An' third, TJie blessin' that'll come when once the windows are opened again. " Well, friends, I'm 'fraid that there's no doubt about the first thing not a morsel. The windows o' heaven be shut over us up here to Penwinnin. The signs nowadays is just the same as they were in the old time. There was the destroyer in the fields. They might dig an' sow an' plant an' prune so much as ever they mind to. But it all came to 102 DANIEL QUORX. nothin'. The frost killed half of it ; and the worm was at the root, an' that killed a' most the other half. An' o' what managed to escape them, all the fruit fell off afore it was ripe. 'Tis 'zactly like that whenever the windows o' heaven are shut. We do preach an' pray an' work an' sow an' plant ; but it do all come to nothin'. There's the frost in the air, friends : we'm all so cold an* stiff. There's a nippin', blightin' chill in folks. You can see it in their looks, and you can feel it in all their ways. They've a-got the east wind in 'em, and the good seed haven't got so much as a chance. And there's the worm at the root of it : ghastly old pride eatin' up everythin' except the weeds; an' wretched old jealousy goin' about ill-wishin' it all. An' the east wind o' worldliness a-witherin j all the grace and spoilin' the King's garden. " And what can we do for to keep these here dreadful things away ? We can't turn the wind, an' fetch the breezes out o' the south. Patent ploughs an' clever farmin' won't keep off frost or stop the blight. The Lord must open the windows o' heaven. He must unlock His storehouse before ever we can get sunshine an' showers, an' good crops. An' that's true in the Church. We have got the old Gospel thank God for it ! But where's the old power gone to ? We have got the same means o' grace ; but they'm like Carwinnin stream WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN. 103 in a hot summer there's the old watercourse, but 'tis all dried up to nothin.' Iss, we got our Preachiu' an' our Prayer-meetin' an' our Class- meetin' just the aame, but they're so dead ! Why, we can mind times up here can't us, friends ? when the Word o' the Lord have burned like a fire ; when it have gone right through big sinners, like an arrow straight out o' God's bow, an' they've been struck down there an' then cryin' for mercy." " Bless the Lord ! " responded some old saint, fervently. " Iss, times when nobody could get any rest, for them that had found the Lord was busy all day long a-teachin' them that was seekin' Him. Night an' day, home an' 'pon the road, sometimes in bed an' sometimes down the mine, the Spirit o' God was convincin' them o' sin, till a'most everybody you met could talk o' nothin' else but the way o' salvation." Again came the response, but from half-a-dozen glowing hearts now. " Why, I can mind when we've come together in this dear old place an' the glory o' the Lord have filled the house. Sing ! you could hardly sing for tears o' joy an' gladness. Ah ! some o' you can mind the times, friends the King's banquetin' days when it was like as if the Blessed Lord made a great feast, an' condescended so low as to ask us 104 DANIEL QUORM. poor folks up here to Penwinnin to come in 'l with His lords and chief captains. An' He couldn't do enough for us. 'Twas ask an' have what we mind to, unto the half of His kingdom ! Ah ! an' a long way more than that, bless Him ! to sit in heavenly places with Him, right up beside Him 'pon His throne ! " " Glory be to God ! " rang from different parts of the chapel, as many began to find something of the old blessing in the memory of those better days. " But there, 'tis wisht poor speed 'long with us now, friends. An' this here is the reason of it : the windows are shut the windows o' heaven. People do go puttin' it down to scores o' things that haven't got no more to do with it than the man in the moon. I'm a'most ashamed for to hear 'em go talkin' about it as they do. ( Aw,' says one, ' the times is altered. The old Gospel was all very well for the old times, but we do want somethin' more.' An' nowadays you mustn' expect to do no good without you do go argeyin' agen all the other learned folks an' provin' they're all wrong. Friends, don't you believe such a pack o' nonsense. Our Master's orders is just so plain now, an' just so bindin' too, as when He was down here 'pon the earth : PREACH THE GOSPEL. We got to stick to that. If that do fail, well, that won't be our fault ; but we haven't got no business to go a-tryin' to tinker an' mend it WE WORSHIP AT PENWINXIN. 105 with our foolish ways an 5 doin's. Why, the very bread a man eats might choke these lies in his throat. Thousands o' years ago God made the corn, and He put into it life enough for to last so long as ever folks should want bread to eat. An* let 'em get so rich or so learned or so anything else as they mind to, bread they do want, an' bread is life to 'em all the same. An' is the glorious Gospel o' this same Blessed God so badly made that 'tis worn out a'ready ? Is it so badly put together that it'll break down an' all go to pieces so soon as ever people do begin to think a bit. 'Tis nonsense. "Pis a'most blasphemy, for to go a-talkin' like that." An' Dan'el stayed a moment as if he had to hold back the indignation that stirred within him. He tightened his lips and nodded his head as he went on again : "No, friends. There's only one reason. An' the sooner we do see it, the sooner it'll be mended. There ! " (and Dan'el pointed upward.) " There the windows o' heaven are shut. That's why 'tis. An' so there's no dew o' His blessin' 'pon the Lord's field. There's no sunshine. There's no showers for to water the earth. An' that's why 'tis all so parched an' barren. "Now the next thing about the windows o' heaven is this here : We have shut them over our own selves. 106 DANIEL QUORM. ^f~^^-~^^~^^^\^^^^-^^-^^^^^^^,^^^^ " 'Tis all our doin's, friends, an' nobody else's. We must see that plain, or we shall never mend matters 't all. An' 'tis a fine an' hard thing to see too; but 'tis true. I don't believe that the windows o' heaven have got any bolts or bars either 'pon the Lord's side. We shut them, an' we do put over the bolts. Why, there's such a weight o' blessin' heaped up 'pon them that the minute the bolts are pulled back, they are bound to fly open directly they can't help theirselves about it. " But if folks in those days were like they be hereabouts an' nowadays, I do know that they'd put the fault down to everything an' everybody sooner than to their own selves. I can hear 'em talkin' about it. " ' Aw,' says one, ' windows o' heaven opened ! AVhy, 'tisn't a morsel o' good to expect that there ; not a morsel ; 'long with the preachers we got. If we only had a man like old So-and-so, or a Minister like Mr. Somebody, of Somewhere, there'd be a bit o' chance. But now ! ' an' they'd fling up their head like as if you might so well expect the sky to fall as for the windows o' heaven to open. But see, friends, the Lord didn't send a Jonah to preach to them. The mischief wasn't to be mended that way 't all. "'Well,' says another, 'I dare say that there may be something in what Uncle John do say, but WE WORSHIP AT PEKWINNIN. 107 my 'pinion is this here : you can't expect for to get along, an' to do any great things, without you do get a new harmonium. Fiddles an' flutes is so old fashioned.' "But see, friends, the Lord didn't send another David among 'em for to drive the devil out with the sound o' music. " ' Aw,' says another, ' 'tis no use talkin' like that. You do want a new chapel. 'Tisn't likely that you are a-goin' to have any great blessin' in a barn of a place thatched and white-washed like our chapel is.' " Well, friends, see again. The Lord didn't say a word about that ; an' I'm glad that He didn't. Bless Him ! Just as if He was not the same meek and lowly Jesus now as when He was born in a stable an' laid in a manger. " An' some o' the old folks would talk about it very serious, an' a'most make anybody think that the open in' o' the windows o' heaven depended 'pon the shape o' the bonnet or the cut o' the hair." Widow Pascoe groaned a faint groan, and shook her head very solemnly. " But the text have'nt got a word about that. This is all that the Lord told the people to do : to look after the duties that they'd forgotten. That was all : to mend their evil manners; then the win- dows would be opened right enough. He didn't 1 08 DANIEL QUORM. tell them to come up to chapel an' have a week o' special services. 'Tis a capital thing, an' I'm not goin' to say a word agen them; but there's one thing better : 'tis better to go home an' serve the Lord with all your heart all the week through. Then come up with your special services to receive what the Lord is sendin' down. 'Tis a good thing to preach a rousin' sermon 'pon a Sunday evenin' ; . but mind, 'tis a good thing, too, for to go out 'poa the Monday mornin' tryin' to please God an' to glorify Him. 'Tis a good thing to pray in a Prayer- meetin', Lord, revive Thy ivorJc : but if we do want to have the windows o' heaven open, we must do more than that, friends. We must keep our tempers. We must pay our debts. We must be kind an' patient an' lovin'. 'Tis the want o' these things that do shut up the windows o' heaven. " Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, . . . an' prove Me now herewith, saith the Lord o' Hosts " : herewith. " But we must get up a bit closer to the windows, friends, an' see what bolts these are, and who they do belong to. Don't let us be too proud for to own to it if they're yours an' mine. The Lord open our eyes an' stir up our hearts." Then Dan'el put on his spectacles solemnly and looked up for a few seconds ; his head turned a little aside and his eye fixed as if trying to read fomething. WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN. 109 " Fll read tlie names o' the bolts. Ah ! there's one there; why, there's two o' the same sort there's half-a-dozen o' them, an 5 more than that, an' they're all the same Hurried Prayer." He took off his spectacles and looked around the chapel. " Now, who owns to that ? Ah, friend, you can mind the time when it was well with the garden o' the Lord in your heart. 'Twas fenced off for the Blessed Master's own. Ah, an' what beauti- ful fruit there was : love, joy, peace ! An' there was scarce an hour o' the day but you would hear His Blessed Voice as He walked in the garden. But now ! noAv ! 'tis all winter, isn't it ? Trees stripped ! flowers all dead an' gone ! Now the place is all covered with dead leaves, and the winds do go a- howlin' an' moanin' about the place. Why, the very walls have tumbled down in a good many places, an' the world do come tramplin' all over the place like as if it hadn't got any Master for to take care of it. An' there's the reason of it all : you've got the great bolt up agen the windows o' heaven. You used to have a good time along with the Lord in the mornin'; now 'tis nothin' but a string o' words without a bit o' heart in 'em. Why, the Blessed Lord used to be so nigh at hand, an' the door was so easy for to open, that you could turn in a score o' times a day for a word with Him. But now day after day, week after week, an' you don't hear His Voice or u2 110 DANIEL QtJOKJf. find His Presence ; like Absalom when lie dwelt in Jerusalem, but saw not the face o' the king. Come, friend, thou must have at this bolt. Fetch en back. Begin again, in the old ways, an' there'll be the old blessin's for thee. My Master sends thee a chal- lenge ; wilt put Him to the proof ? " Prove me herewith/' says He, "and see if I will not open you the windows o' heaven/ ( Again the spectacles were put .on, and the faco was turned upward. He was silent for a few seconds ; then nodding his head three or four times, he took off his spectacles and laid them by his side. " Ah, friends, I thought it was that ! I've said to myself half a dozen times lately, ' Depend 'pon it, Dan' el, that somebody been puttin' that there bolt agen the windows o' heaven.' And so they have ; there 'tis Want o' brotherly love. With one 'tis want o' patience; you've got all sharp-tempered an' angry spoken, an' that's your bolt. Another is all vexed with the neighbour next door, an' can't abide for to think about en or to see en. With another 'tis a ghastly bit o' pi-ide ; an' they're too high an' mighty for to notice anybody, much less for to shake hands with 'em. Another have put up a bit o' unkind- ness. You had a chance o' doiii' somebody a good turn, an' you wouldn't go half-a-dozen steps out o' your way to do it perhaps you went two or three steps the other way to find an excuse for not doin' it. WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN. Ill "Now, perhaps you think that these are little matters that don't make any difference. Why, you know well enough that it don't take much for to bar the door with. And brotherly love is a thing that our Lord is so particular about that He won't let a man knock to the door o' heaven till he is in love an' charity with his neighbour ; much less will He open the windows o' heaven for him. You may go on prayin' and thinkin' yourself wonderful religious, but 'tisn't a bit o' good so long as that bolt is up ; not a bit. You go talkin' about your lovin' the Lord Jesus. Well, I shouldn't like for to say that you was a story-teller 'zactly ; but this is what is wrote down in the Scripture : If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar : for he that lovetli not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God Whom he hath not seen ? " Friends, that bolt have got to come back. An' he may so well come first as last. "Tis an awkward bolt to handle, too. But if you do only make up your mind about it, why, a word or a look will some- times send en flyin' back in a minute. Come now, brother, wilt accept the Lord's challenge ? ' Prove Me now herewith, and see if I will not open you the windows o' heaven. " But, friends, there is just one more bolt I want for to say a word about ! 'Tis the same as these people put up in the old times. An old rusty bolt 112 DANIEL QUOBM. 'tis. An' he's in so tight that there's hardly any movin' of en. He must be oiled well before he'll start. I'll read out the name of it, an' then you that it do belong to can claim it for your own selves." Looking upward, with the spectacles drawn out to the tip of his nose as if to see more distinctly, Dan' el spelt out the name : " N-I-G 'tis a long word, friends, an' I was never very much o' a hand at long words : N-I-G-G-A-R-D-L-I-N-E-S-S. Ah ! that's it niggardliness. Well, you'll have to grease that bolt well with the oil o' liberality, an' have at en with the sledge hammer o' the Word before ever he'll start. But till he's back, friend, the windows o' heaven will never be open. You do think o' what you are savin'. Well, 'tis worth while to think too o' what you are losin'. ' Prove Me now herewith, and see if I will not open you the windows o' heaven, an' pour you out a blessing such that there shall not be room enough to receive it.' There ! you're makin' a bad bargain ; that is what you're losin', friend more than there's room to receive. "Bat now I want to stir up our minds, dear friends, by thinkin' o' what the Lord will pour down 'pon us if only the windoivs be opened again. 1 Windows o' heaven ' well, here's a story for you boys an' girls, so well as for us old folks. Once 'pon a time there was a great city, an' a great )VE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN. 113 army came up against it for to take it. They couldn't do that, so they said ' Let's starve 'em to death then.' So they put a guard all round the place, an' watched day an' night so that nobody shouldn't go in or out, an' waited. Well, very soon all the food in the city was eaten up, an' the people began to be in dreadful want, sure 'nough, an' was mad with hunger. The houses was all stript an' bare; an s the faces was all pale an' hollow; the poor little children was all cryin' an' dyin' o' very want. Now when the king o' the city saw the dreadful state o' things he got into a rage, an' said that he'd kill the prophet o' the Lord for sendin' all these troubles 'pon the people. An' away he went with one o' his knights for to cut off the prophet's head. But as he was comin' the prophet saw him, an' cried out : ' By to-morrow this time there shall be plenty o' bread, your majesty, enough an' to spare.' " Why, where could it come from ? All the bread in the place was eaten up long ago ; an* no- body could send them any help from outside. There was only one way that it could come, an' the king's servant turned up Lis lip an' sneered. ' Pooh/ says he, ' if the Lord would make windows in heaven, might this thing be.' "Ah, friends, that's just what God was goin' to do ! Well, that night there was four poor lepers ] 14 DANIEL QJOBM. sittin' in the gate o' the city, so miserable as ever they could be. 'I wish I was dead/ says one. ' So do I/ says another. ' So I do too/ says both the others. ' Well, things can't be no worse 'long with us, come what will ; so I'll tell 'ee .what 'tis, comrades. I'm goin' over to the camp o' the enemy. If they do kill us, why, we shall only die a bit sooner, an' if they save us alive, why there, we shall live.' So away they go. "Tis Justin the twilight. An' now "they do begin to get near to the camp an' feel a brave bit frightened, 'I expect, for the sentinel will be walkin' up an' down, an' he may send a spear a-whizzin' right through 'em afore they know it. But as they do come creepin' along, one tumbles over something lyin' 'pon the ground. He picks it up an' 't is a lovely robe. Another kicks somethin' that goes ringin' an' shinin'. 'Tis a lovely gold cup. Then another do find somethin' better still ; an' that's a loaf o' bread. But there was not a man in the place ; only horses tied an' asses tied an' tents all standin', an' all sorts o' things lyin' about 'pon the ground. So there they was with plenty o' bread an' meat an' a good appetite, too, an' nothing to pay ; so if they didn't make a good meal 't was their own fault. " ' But, stop/ says one o' them, ' there's our poor starvin' neighbours home. Let us be gone WE WORSHIP AT PENWINNIN, 115 back an' tell them the good news. They '11 hardly believe their ears, will they ? ' So back they come, an' knock to the gate o' the city. The old watch- man wakes up all trembling an' thinkin 'tis the dreadful soldiers come. ' Who's there ? ' he says, tryin' to speak quite bold. Then in a minute he hears the voice of these here lepers : " e Open the gate, do 'ee ; for the enemy is clean gone. An' they've left all their things behind 'em, tents an' clothes an' bread an' meat an' all sorts. An' there isn't a man left in the camp.' " Well, the news spread like fire, an' out come the folks an' found 'twas all true. The enemy was gone. So every one o' them helped hisself to what he mind to ; an' by daylight there was flour so cheap as ever. Ah ! the Lord had made win- dows in heaven, an' there come a dreadful noise that frightened the enemy all out o' their wits. Every man o' them took to his heels so fast as ever he could run, an' never dared so much as to look behind en. Flingin' away cloak and cup, sword an' spear, away they went, helter-skelter for their very lives. There, that's havin' the windows o' heaven opened ; an' that's what the Blessed Lord is waitin' an' wantin' to do for us. No more folks goin' about among us, groanin' ' My leanness, my leanness,' but bread enough an' to spare. No more folks grumblin' agen each other because things is come 116 DANIEL QUOEM. to such a pitch ; but every man happy an' blessin* the Lord. No more the old enemy gettin' the upper hand o' us an* threatenin' every day for to be the death o' us ; but, instead o' that, the enemy bruised unler our feet. Bless the Lord, 'tis comin', 'tis comin' ! My Lord, we will take up the chal- lenge, an' put Thee to the proof. An' before the day is over Thou wilt send the glory. Back with the bolts, comrades ; every man back with his bolt. Down 'pon our knees before the Lord, an' get the windows opened; an' before the week is over the power will come. The Lord send the Word home. Amen ! " And Dan' el closed the book amidst the fervent response of " Amen ! " as it rose from almost every heart in the place. VIII. has a ^ist HE morning after the sermon Dan'el was seated at his work humming to himself a favourite old tune. Sud- denly the upper half of the door leading into the shoemaker's shop was opened, and Farmer Gribble appeared in the doorway. A man by himself in the village was Jeremiah Gribble ; as distinct from the people of Penwinnin as if he had come from the other side of the earth. Yet his birthplace was only some forty miles away in the eastern part of the county an unknown region which the neighbours spoke of rather con- temptuously as " up the country/' or occasionally 1 1 8 DANIEL QUORM. as "up in England " ; whilst with the old folks Farmer Gribble was described as coming from " them foreign pairts," which was exactly synonymous with the phrase " haythen lands." For five and forty years " ould Mest' Gribble," as he was called, had lived amongst these people, yet his brogue, his dress, his very " looks," were as distinct from those about him as on the day of his coming amongst them. Short, stout, red -faced you saw at a glance that he did not belong to the same race as these miners : tall and slender, square- shouldered and pale-faced as they were. Then he was almost alone in the parish as a real farmer, where others added the care of a couple of fields and a cow or two to the work of mining. A strict Churchman in a land of Methodists, he was, except the clerk, the only regular attendant at the parish church, for the sexton himself went off to the chapel as soon as he had finished tolling the bell. Then, again, his East- Cornish dialect was almost as perplexing to these West-countrymen as a bit of Yorkshire; and there was a mutual and undisguised ridicule at what each spoke of as the " redicklus pernounshiation " of the other. But it was in the strictness of his Church no- tions that Farmer Gribble differed most widely from his neighbours. To his mind the parish Clergyman was the embodiment of all authority, and religion in DAN' EL IIAS A VISITOS. 119 the main was to abide by what he said and did. In addition to this there was thrown in as a make- weight the due attendance at " Prayers " on Sunday, and the penance of listening to a twenty minutes' sermon. Whatever religious observances ventured beyond this limit were not only needless, but amounted to a heresy of which the farmer drawled out an angry condemnation. His red face grew redder, and his short hair seemed to bristle all over his cheeks and on his round head as he protested against it : " Voaks ought tew mind what Paul zaith zaith he, ' Yew muzzen be righchus ovver much.' " (All Scripture with Farmer Gribble was conveniently in- dicated by reference to Paul.) " Theare es waun gude theng onder the zon, and thickey's a bit ov religion I dew mane Church, ov course. And then there es tew bad thengs haven' noan and a-haven j tew much. Anoff es so gude as a vaiste, and tew much es a'moast so bad as noan." The good Clergyman preached on the Sunday morning in an adjoining parish, and then gave the afternoon to the half-dozen souls that made up the congregation at Penwinnin, where he lived. But it would not be right to let the reader imagine for a moment that the dear old Vicar was to blame for such a nourishing of dissent. The state of things had come about before his time; and after three generations of these people had grown up in the life 120 DANIEL QUORM. and glow of their hearty services, it was no easy matter to win them back to the beautiful but more cold and stately form of the Church service. A man of blameless life, he moved in and out amongst them beloved and honoured, welcomed always in his visits at their houses ; and whilst there were many things that were not to his taste, yet a Christian first and then a Churchman, he rejoiced that Christ was preached, and that the Gospel was " the power of God unto salvation " to hundreds about Mm. For Farmer Gribble to go out of the parish even to hear his own Minister was a bit of zeal that would smack of that overmuch religion which he de- nounced as heresy. So it came about that, for want of something better to do, he sometimes dropped in at the little chapel on the Sunday morning, carefully abstaining, however, from sharing a hymn-book, as a protest against being regarded as a regular member of the congregation. He had been one of Dan'el's hearers on the previous morning. This morning the farmer had brought with him a leather strap that needed a few stitches from the shoemaker. " Good morninV said Dan' el, looking up from Lis work for a moment. " Good mornin', Mest' Gi-ibble; come in, Sir." For a minute the farmer stood at the opened DAN'EL HAS A VISITOR. 121 doorway, quite still and without a word. Dan'el had turned to his work again before the answer came. First there was a deep sigh ; then he spoke with a slower, heavier drawl than usual, scratching his head as if to stir up his wits. " I 'nioast a- vorgot what I corned for. Tez the strap ; et wan'th a stitch or tew, zo Bill zaith." Then the farmer came slowly inside the door, and handing the strap to Dan'el, he sat down on a little stool opposite to the shoemaker. " That's soon done," said Dan'el, picking up the tools for the work. A few holes thrust through with his shining awl, a vigorous tugging of the stout thread, and it was finished. "There, Mest' Gribble; if broken hearts were mended so easy as that, 'twould be a different world from what 'tis." The farmer had risen to leave, but he suddenly sat down again, as if Dan'el's words had not only struck, but hurt him too. Dan'el lifted his face, wondering what ailed the farmer. Then as if he had no more time to think about it, he bent over his work again with new vigour. It was after a longer silence that the farmer spoke this time, and in a tone that made Dan'el look up with a new interest in his visitor. " Dan'el, ^ew nevir zaid a truer word." Dan'el had almost forgotten what he had said. 122 DANIEL QL'OKJf, Fixing his eye upon the farmer as if reading his soul, he asked with surprise, " Why, Mest' Gribble, what do you know then about broken hearts ? I thought you didn't hold with them 't all." Farmer Gribble's eyes were fixed on the floor, and he was vigorously pushing his foot with the end of his walking-stick. His old roughness of manner returned for a moment. " No more I dew." But the sentence ended in another sigh, and after a long pause he went on again, in quite a different tone. "But yew dew, Dan' el yew dew. An' yew'm so likely to be right as I be every bit." Dan' el stitched away quietly, as the most effec- tual way of drawing the farmer out ; hopefully and thankfully guessing what it was that he had come to talk about. But the silence that followed was so long that Dan'el was just going to venture on another question, when his visitor sighed again, and worked away at the toes of his boot. " Dan'el, tes uncommon hard for tew thenk any- body be wrang when he'th slicked to hes 'pinions for yeears, like a lempot." "'Tis, Mest' Gribble, sure 'nough," said Dan'el kindly. " I've found it so, fine an' often." ' ' Iss tes, Dan'el, tes ; " and the farmer thrust and twisted his stick so violently that he might have been trying to make another job for repair. Then DAN'EL HAS A VISITOR. 123 he put both hands on the top of the stick, and rested his chin on them. " Well if y ew'in right, then I dew reckon that I be wrang, Dan' el that I dew : " and he nodded his head slowly by way of confirming it. The old clock ticked solemnly in the corner, but there wasn't another sound, for Dan'el moved his hands noiselessly, eager to catch every word. " I be a man that doan't hold weth tew much religion. No more I doan't hold weth goin' wethout any. But yesterday you made me veel I hadn't got no an my own zelf, an' never had noan neyther. And vexed enough I was with 'e ; an' zo I be still." Dan'el looked up with a smile, but the farmer's face was serious, and even sad. " Never had noan," the fanner went on very slowly, shaking his head. " An' a-prided myzelf as I have a- done, tew ! " Again he lifted himself, as if trying to throw off this weakness of his ; but he leaned forward a mo- ment after, and worked his stick into his foot once mere. " It go'th agen the grain uncommon. But theare, if wrang I be, better tew zee it now than fur to zee it when et's tew late." Dan'el did not look up from his work. " Why, yew gived out the hymn like as if yew veeled it all over. An' yew prayed like as if yew'd com to know the Lord fur to speak tew. An' an' an' I doan't, Dan'el. I doan't" 124 DANIEL QTORK. Then the old man's voice grew husky, and tears came into his eyes, as he whispered, " And I dew wish I did, Dan'el that I dew/ 3 Dan'el bent over his work fairly bewildered. He had prayed earnestly about the service of the previous morning, and was looking fgr fruit from it ; but somehow the thought of his old neighbour being laid hold of thus had not occurred to him. They had often talked together ; but one might as well have tried to move a granite rock by argument as to move Farmer Gribble. And now that he was come in this way, whilst Dan'el rejoiced greatly in ifc as a token for good, yet he was at his wit's ends as to the best way of dealing with him. At last, half angry with himself, he laid down his work, and looked up quite ready to talk the matter over in good earnest. " Well, Mest' Gribble, 't won't do for you to go by what I do say 't all. I'm so likely to be wrong as you, every bit. We must get right on to the Word to onoe." " An' regalar to the Church as I've a-been, tew ! " said the old man, shaking his head. " To be wrang arter all ! eh, dear ! eh, dear ! " "Yes, it must be more than that church or chapel either, or both together, for that matter," Dan'el replied. But the Farmer went on as if talking to himself, paving no heed to Dan'el. DAN" EL HAS A VISITOR. 125 " An' a-been so careful tew as I've a-been : a-payin' everybody their due, an' all that ! An' to be wrang arter all nort in it, nort! " And again his his voice grew husky, and he shook his head and sighed. " Well, there is something in that, Mest' Gribble, an' a good deal too ; an' I wish folks would think that there's more in it. A-payin' twenty shillin's in the pound, an' a kind heart, an' a civil tongue in your head, an' a clean pair o' hands that won't take no more than their due, an' won't give no less 't is no good folks settin' theirselves up for religious if they haven't got so far as that there. But all that won't do instead o' love to God, Mest' Gribble. That's the first an' great commandment : ' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart.' An' love is a kind o' thing inside o' a man, a-burnin' an' a-glowin' all over en." Farmer Gribble looked up, and reached out his head intently. Crusty old bachelor as they reckoned him, he too had gone through all the fiery discipline of love ; had flung up for it the estate that had been in the family for generations ; had left his father's house and his kindred away up in that bleak parish in the east of the county, and never set foot in it since. " Zay that theare agen, Dan'el, will 'e, plaise ? " " Nothin' can take the place o' love, Mest' 126 DANIEL QtfOfiM. Gribble. God do love you an' me ; an' love is a thing that can't rest nohow till it do get a bit o' real love back again. Love must have love. "Pis like I've heard tell o' royalty, love won't wed with any but its own rank." The old man nodded his head. ( ' Love must have love," he muttered to himself two or three times. Then he struck the floor with his stick. " Theare yew be right, Dan' el. Yew've a-hit the nail upon the head this time. To thenk that I never zeed it avore now ! Arter all that I hev a-gone through, tew ! " His voice sank to a whisper, and he shook his head sadly. "An' to thenk that the Lord in heaven hath been a-frettin' and a-grieven for my love. An' an' to thenk that I doan't love Him ! " Again came a long pause and a deep sigh. " But I want tew, Dan'el; I dew want tew. Wull 'ee help me ? " And the tears crept slowly down the old man's face. Dan' el's heart was fairly roused to his work now. "Bless thee, dear old friend, Fll do something better than that ! I'll go with thee to One Who can help thee indeed." And Dan'el quietly lifted up his heart for the light and guidance of Him Who is come to shed the love of God abroad in our hearts. As he spoke now the words came all aglow, and with a vigour and authority that Farmer Gribble at once yielded to and rested in with a childlike simplicity. DAN' EL HAS A VISITOR. 127 " Love must have love/' the old man muttered to himself, nodding his head over the truth that had taken such hold of him. "And there's another thing, Mest' Gribble, that's just so true as that there. I do often think about it, sittin' here to my work. Only love can ' make love/ as folks do say : anyhow nothin' but love can wake up love. You may shout to it, an' you may storm 'pon it, an' you may cudgel it, but that 'there '11 never wake love up may kill poor sleepin' love, perhaps but won't do nothin' else. You may jingle gold in the ears o' it if you mind to, an' you may offer it ever so good wages but, bless'ee, love '11 keep on sleepin' for all that." Dan'el little thought how readily the farmer's heart opened to all his words, and how much there was there that confirmed their truth. It was fifty years since that bit of history had left its scar on the farmer's heart ; but the memory of it all rose up before him fresh and vivid as if it were but yes- terday. The old man sat with outstretched head, and eyes that were looking far away beyond the wall that was opposite to him, nodding his head only as Dan'el waited for a reply. "Iss," said the shoemaker, "they can't wake love up, 't all. But only let Truelove come along, and take it by the hand, and then sleepin' love do spring up in a minute." 128 DANIEL QUORX. "Umph!" said the farmer doubtfully, "Deth it always, Dan' el ? " Daniel was rather taken aback at the question. The earnest simplicity and sadness with which it was asked brought a deeper tone of tenderness into Dan' el's words. " No, Mest' Gribble, not always not always. He have come to you an' me, an' took us by the hand, an' called to uS, an' hung over us, an' called us by our name ah ! the Blessed Jesus, Who is Love, to think that our love should have gone on sleepin' when He had come for to wake it ! Not always, Mest' Gribble." Once more the old man's thoughts were back again, intense and eager, fixed only on that of which Dan' el spoke, and again the tears gathered in his eyes as he whispered, " Not always, Dan' el not always ! Tew thenk of it ! " " But this here is true, Mest' Gribble, that if love can't wake up love, then nothin' else can." As he spoke he turned over the pages of the old well-worn Bible. "I was thinkin' about it the other day when I was reading the story back here how Absalom wanted for to be king. He didn't tell 'em just for to blow a trumpet an' hire a score o' chaps to shout ' Long live King Absalom ! ' He knew well enough that folks must have more than a bit o' music an' a passle o' shoutin' before ever they'd make a king of him. So he used to get up LAN'EL HAS A VISITOR. 129 early in the morning and wait in the gateway c/ the city, an' when anybody came in from the country, he would come up to 'em an' shake hands with 'em all so friendly, an' say, ' I'm fine an' glad to see 'ee how are 'ee then ? ' an' all like that. ' Where do 'ee come from, then ? an' what do 'ee want ? ' And when he'd heard all about it, he'd sigh and look all so sad. ( Ah, if there was only somebody that cared for 'ee a bit, you'd be righted directly ! If I were only king well, there ! ' 'I wish you was, Sir, with all my heart,' says the man, thinkin' that he'd never seen so nice a spoken gentleman. " Well, he went on like that, day after day, an' month after month, till he'd stole the hearts o' the men o' Israel. Then when the day came for to sound the trumpet and for to shout 'Absalom is king ' all the folks went 'long with 'en directly, an' word come up to David ' The hearts o' the men o' Israel are after Absalom.' "An' that's like 'tis with the Blessed Lord Jesus only that He do mean it all, instead o' only pretendin' to. He don't send Moses 'long with a table o' stone, an' them words cut out all sharp an' clear in letters o' granite Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart. That isn't enough. We can't love only just because we are told to: it '11 take more than that." Fanner Gribble looked up. His thoughts were 130 DANIEL back again, busied with, memories of those old times. Faces flitted past him that had been long since in the dust. He slowly nodded his head, and said, as if he were speaking to himself, "Yew'm right there, tew, Dan'el. It dew take more than telling tew love dew." Dan' el went on, never thinking for a moment of what had so quickened the farmer's perceptions in this matter. " So the blessed Jesus His own self do come for to get our hearts the altogether lovely, full o' grace an' truth. An' if love do wake up love, why, I wonder that the very rocks an' hills don't cry out an' bless Him, like the hymn do say. He, the King o' glory, a-comin' down from Heaven a-purpose to look for you an' me, an' a-wantin' to be our Friend, an' our Brother, an' our Saviour, an' everything." Dan' el stayed a moment or two as if his own heart were feasting on it. Then he burst out again " O, Mest' Gribble, 't is wonderful, wonderful the love o' Jesus ! I do think about it till I'm a'most lost in wonder, love, an' praise. There, seernin' to mo that 't is just like Him for fear that us poor folks should think that such a glorious Lord was ever so far above us, He is born in a stable, an' laid in a manger; an' sometimes He is faint with hunger; and haven't got so much as a place for to lay His head 'pon. An' then, for fear that the fine folks DAS-EL HAS A VISITOR. 131 might think that He wasn't great enough for them, He'll invite fire thousand to dine 'long with Him to once. An' another day He'll have angels for to wait 'pon Him. my blessed, blessed Lord ! one heart isn't half enough for to love Thee with. " An' then what lovin' words do keep a-droppin* from His lips. Why, the little children couldn't help comin' up to Him for a blessin' ; an' poor frightened folks that was afraid o' everybody else, came near to Him, they were so sure o' His love : an' everybody that wanted anything felt that they could ask Him for it in a minute. That's how He's come for to wake up our hearts. "Ah, an' that isn't all. All? No, the half isn't told yet. Seemin' to me, Mest' Gribble, like as if the Blessed Lord do come in here this morning, an' He do say to you an' me, ' Thou art dearer to Me than life itself what can I do for to bless thee ? ' An' my heart cries out, ( Ah ! my Lord, there's my sins.'" " Mine tew, Dan'el, mine tew," whispered the farmer, very sorrowfully. " The breakin* o' the law, an' the f orgettin' God, an' all the evil thoughts an' wishes, an' the anger an' pride they're dreadfully ugly to our eyes ; but He do see everything, an' do see it just as't is, too. Yet He do stoop over us in His love, and He do tako UD our dreadful load an' suffer the curse o' the law 132 DANIEL QfOKAT. in our stead. If nothin' else can wake up our sleepiti' love that will do it the dreadful cry o' ' Crucify Him ! ' an' the dreadful hammerin' o' nails. Love do wake up an' see Him there, crowned with thorns, bleeding, torn, dyin' for me. Ah, then we can't do nothing else but love Him back again. He loved me, and gave Himself for me." Farmer Gribble sat quite still ; his chin resting on the handle of the stick, and his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, whilst the tears trickled slowly down his cheeks. He spoke very slowly "I dew wish that I could say that, Dan'el. I dew almost believe it, tew." " Say it," cried Dan' el, " o' course you can, M.jst' Gribble. Why, you can't say anything else. Don't 'ee think that the Lord loved me an' that He passed you by. Here 't is for you an' me an' everybody." And as he spoke he opened the Bible and pointed to the text. The old farmer took the book and laid it on his knees, whilst he rubbed his eyes and then put on his spectacles. For a few minutes he looked at the passage muttering to himself only, "Me He loved me." Then suddenly he looked up. " I dew believe it, Dan' el to be sure I dew. He loved me, and gave Himself for me." A new light shone for a moment in the old man's face, then suddenly it was quenched again. " O, Dan'tl, it be dreadful there, to thenk DAN' EL HAS A VISITOR. 133 He have a-loved me like this all the days o' my life, and never got so much as a bit o' love back agen!" He shook his head in his helpless grief "It be dreadful, dreadful!" Presently he looked up and reached out his hand to Dan'el "I shall have hard work for to make up for lost time. Yew wull help me, won't yew ? He dew love me ; and I be a-beginnin' fur to love Him tew an' I dew thank Him fur it." Then kneeling down in the little place, Dan'el poured out the gladness of two hearts before the Lord. IX. Jwnwr (Sribbl* is |1u^Iei>. EFOKE the week was over there was many another sign of the coming shower that glad- dened Dan'el's heart. The meet- ing on the Tuesday evening found many old faces back again, whose presence there was a good sign of their "starting afresh; " whilst others came for the first time, and declared their decision to be the Lord's. And when the first meeting was over a little group of earnest inquirers remained for further direction and prayer. There the greatest wonder to himself and to everybody else sat Farmer Gribble. Not that he had left the parish FARMER GRISBLE IS PUZZLED. 135 church ; that never crossed his mind for a moment. Used to its forms, and with a lurking conviction still that there was some mystical superiority in its services and ministry, he could scarcely feel at home elsewhere. The only thing that marked the change was the heartiness with which he entered into the responses, almost frightening the proper old clerk, who generally had it all to himself. But at the close of the week there came another event that made men forget all about Farmer Grib- ble ; they could talk of nobody else but "Diggings." " Diggings," as everybody called him, was a big, brawny fellow, standing over six feet in his stock- ings, who had come of a family of wrestlers, and sustained the reputation of his ancestry by his physical strength and fierce combativeness. His natural wildness had found not only plenty of room for itself, but a luxuriant soil too and plenty of encouragement, as a gold digger in California. A small fortune made almost in a day had enabled him to come back to astonish his countrymen as he moved amongst them adorned with glistening rings and chain, and " loudly" attired. For a while he " lived like a lord ; " which meant that he lounged all day in the public-house, and was never so happy as when he could get up a brawl in the neighbour- ing market-town, and find some half-drunken fellow whom he could provoke to a fight. The small 136 DANIEL QUOBJf. fortune was soon squandered, and " Diggings " had again to take to the work of a miner, except when in jail as a disturber of the peace. Looked upon as a sort of hero by the young fellows of the place, Dan' el had often grieved over his influence, and had once or twice spoken plain words of warning to him but only to evoke a terrible volley of oaths. One evening as Daniel talked with Cap'n Joe, the conversation turned on the subject of " Diggin's " and his latest mischief. "Well, Dan' el, there is one cure for him, and only one. We must try that, I think," said the Cap'n. " The Lord can bring him down, an' make him so much of a blessing as he has been a curse." Dan'el looked up from his work and pursed his mouth for a few seconds, then nodded his head slowly. " So He can, Cap'n Joe ; so He can. 0' course He can." And Dan'el nodded his head more vigorously : "Knock him down in a minute. Why, come for to think of it now, I do expect that David was fine an' glad for to get hold o' that great Goliath o' Gath, for when he was killed the rest o' them would see that there wasn't a bit o' chance for any o' them little ones, an' they'd give in directly." The notion quite delighted Dan'el; and after thinking of it again for a minute or two, he nodded his head as if it were a settled thing. " We must agree together about it, Cap'n, and then stick FARSTER GRIBBLE IS PUZZLED. 137 to it. Why, bless His name, 't would be all the more to His glory to bring down a great sinner like that, an' nobody could despair o' His mercy then. That's it, Cap'n Joe : we must shake hands ovr that." They shook hands accordingly, Dan'el shaking his head at the same time ; and from that day for- ward for many months each of them pleaded with God on this man's behalf. But " Diggin's " for his part, might have known of their agreement. He became wilder and more reckless than ever, and seemed to take a special delight in shouting his oaths when Dan'el or Cap'n Joe was in hearing. But still they pleaded on, confident in the power and promise of the Lord. This week the answer came; in a way that stirred all Penwinnin. It was on the Saturday, just as the men were leaving their work underground. All indeed had gone but " Diggin's," and he had picked up his tools, and now stood for a moment trimming his candle, moving the soft clay with which it was stuck in his hard round hat, so that it might have room to burn. A weird sight was it down there in the deep darkness, as the small circle of candle-light fell on the figure of the miner in his flannel dress, stained a dull ochreish red by the mine water. It lit up the face, not ill-looking by any means, and it touched 138 DANIEL QUORM. ^^t^^^sr*^~^s^^^^^^~^jr*^sr^s-^^ the jet-black hair. It showed the broad shoulders and the upper part of the stalwart frame. Then the thick darkness gathered on every side, except on the glistening roof close overhead; there the light flung a huge shadow, hanging over the miner like some horrible spiiit that belonged to those lonely depths of gloom. The others had already reached the shaft, and were now some distance up the ladders that led to the surface. Placing the candle again in front of his hat, " Diggin's " hastily shouldered his tools and was just going to hurry after his companions when suddenly a voice called him. It was not the voice of any one who worked there ; it called him, too, by a name that he had not heard since he was a happy little lad at his mother's side. " Mat ! Mat I " cried the voice very earnestly, and with such tenderness as he had not heard for years, " Come 'back. Mat ! come back ! " The strangeness of the call, the voice, the name, all startled him. Taking the candle from his hat again, he turned round and held it before him with one hand, whilst with the other he shaded his eyes, and looked away into the gloom from whence the sound had come. Again the voice called, louder and nearer this time, and with greater entreaty : " Come back, Mat quick I quick ! " FARMER GRIBBLE IS PUZZLED. 139 It seemed so close that at once he hastened on a few paces, expecting to see some one. " Who is it ? " he cried. But his voice only went echoing in the dismal windings, waking up the far-off hollow caverns. Again ho called, " Who is it ? Where are you ? " and leaning forward he strained his ear to catch some answer in the rum- bling echo. Then suddenly, with awful crash of thunder, a huge mass of rock fell on the spot where he had been standing but a minute before. Crouching against the wall of the passage, he expected at first that the loosened stones overhead would fall in and bury him. Then assured of safety, he came to see what hope the fallen rock had left of his getting out. The way was completely blocked, and it was plain at once that he could not escape until help should come from the other side. As he stood there he caught sight of the pick that he had dropped when the voice startled him. He stooped to take it up, but lifted only the splintered handle ; the rest of it was buried under the rock. Then it suddenly flashed upon him : the peril he had be.en in, the mean- ing of the voice and all the strange deliverance. He leaned against the rock with a deep groan. " A minute later and I should have been in hell ! " he muttered to himself "in hell I " He sat down quite overcome and almost faint, and buried his face in his hands. " In hell ! " he 140 DANIEL QUORX. whispered again, as if slowly realizing its terrible- ness. Then he looked up suddenly. ' ' Why didn't I go there ? " he asked aloud, awed and staring into the darkness as if some one stood there listen- ing. A dozen echoes flung back the words ; then they died in the hollow distance. " Nobody ever did more to deserve it nobody ! " he went on in the same tone. "Nobody," rang back the echoes. Then his voice sank to a whisper. " And yet He spared me ! " The candle threw the shadow of the hat over his face and hid it ; but the light fell on the hands as they hung down helplessly before him. And the tears that came trickling out of the darkness shone and sparkled in the light before they reached the ground. "He spared me!" he whispered to himself again and again : " me. And after all that I done against Him, too ! Me ! " And the tears fell more quickly. <( I do wish- that I could kneel and thank Him for it. But there, I shall never be fit for that my own self : leastways not for years. No, 't isn't for me to speak to Him at all, after blasphemin' and grievin' Him like I have done." And again he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. That he should get out again was a matter of which he had not a moment's doubt. It was no- thing to him that he might perhaps remain for many FARMER GRIBBLE IS PUZZLED. 141 hours before any one would know of what had hap- pened ; or that perhaps, so much of the ground had fallen that it would take some two or three days before they could rescue him. The deliverance was so strange, so wonderful, and for such an one as he ! it could not be that he should just die there after all. That did not once occur to him. " If I could only thank Him for it ! only tell Him how sorry I am that I've been so wicked ! To spare me like that ! " Then his thoughts turned to the voice that had called him and its tenderness. It seemed to ring again in his ears, " Mat ! Mat ! " It certainly was his mother's voice : nobody else ever called him by that name ; if they did, nobody else could speak it like that. There rose before the miner many memories of her, no one of . which he could ever recall in his wildest moments without a softening restraint. Many a strange, almost mad freak of generosity had lit up the darkness of his life in a way which nothing but that memory could ever explain. How often she had taken him by the hand, and kneeling down together had prayed for him, and taught him to pray. As he thought of it now he looked up suddenly. t( Perhaps He will let me thank Him for mother's sake/' he whispered to himself timidly. .And he was about to kneel and speak to his mother's God. But he checked himself directly. That holy mother was so far v2 142 DANIEL QUOBM. away and so different from himself. Again the evil of his life rushed on his mind and smote him dumb. Then with the bitter sense of his badness almost breaking his heart, he sat down again, his hands hanging in dreary helplessness, and the tears creeping heavily down his cheeks. So he sat without moving and without a word ; the burden of his wasted and wicked life growing in its weight of misery. The candle flickered, and after struggling bravely to shine on, it went out, leaving him in that dreadful darkness. But he sat on almost unconscious of the change, able to think of nothing else but those evil memories that pressed upon him. Meanwhile the other miners had heard the noise of the falling rock, and knowing that their com- panion was behind, had hastened down again, only to find the way completely blocked. It was just possible that he had noticed the loosening rock and had escaped on the other side, but not one of them had any hope of it. At once they set to work to dig through the fallen mass, working silently, and dreading lest each stone they turned should reveal the dead body. Meanwhile Michael Treleaven, tlie oldest amongst them, had climbed up with the tidings of the accident, having arranged to get round to the other side through some disused workings that he remembered in another part of the mine. FARMER GRIBBLE IS PUZZLED. 143 " He isn't killed/' said young Cap'n Joe, as he heard of it, and got ready at once to go down in search of him. " He isn't killed." But the grave old Michael shook his head. " ( Diggin's ' have been often reproved, Cap'n Joe ; an' he have a-hardened his neck. Tend 'pon it, comrades, his time is come, an' a terrible judgment 'tis too ; ' suddenly destroyed, an' that wethout remedy,' as the Book do say." For an hour or more " Diggin's " had been sit- ting in the lonely darkness, when suddenly he heard a faint splash away in the hollow workings. He listened for a moment wondering. " Only another bit o' rock falliii' away," he whispered to himself, and turned again to his sorrowful thoughts. Pre- sently there came again the sound of the splashing as if some one were moving through the water, and a rumbling noise as of voices away there. Cool and almost ignorant of fear as he was generally, the strange deliverance, the mysterious voice that had called him, the long loneliness in the dark, and now these unaccountable noises, all unnerved him. Horrid fancies began to shape themselves in his mind ; dreadful stories crowded in upon him, chill- ing his blood with icy terror. Then came a moment's flash 'of light, and again the voices rum- bling frightfully about the place, ending in a shout that rolled along the hollow passages like thunder. 144 DANIEL QUOEM. A minute later, and out of the darkness appeared the familiar presence of young Cap'n Joe, and his cheery voice rang : " Diggings ! Diggin's ! Are you safe ? " But surely that was not " Diggin's " voice that replied so mournfully- "Aw, Cap'n Joe; come here, come here ! " 1 ' There, I knew it," said old Michael solemnly. " Cut off without remedy/' For a moment Cap'n Joe's confidence failed him. Thinking that the others had dug through, from that side, and had found the mangled body, he hastened forward, ready for anything except that which met him. There sat " Diggin's," not so much as lifting his face to the light. " Cap'n Joe," he whispered hoarsely, " I'm fine and glad that you're come. He have spared me me ! An' after all that I've a-been, too ! A minute more an' I should have been in hell ! I can't stir till you do kneel down an' thank Him. An' you, too, Michael, do'ee. I been wantin' to, but I can't speak His name with my lips." Then the voice was choked in grief. The three kneeled together there, and gave thanks to God. Young Cap'n Joe triumphantly, and with a ringing confidence that this deliverance was not to end here. But old Michael Treleaven was solemn, almost severe: "Diggin's have de- FARMER GRIBBLE IS PUZZLED. 1 45 served Thy judgments, Lord; let Thy sparing goodness lead him to repentance. Thou hast plucked him from the jaws o' hell. May it be a warnin' to him. Snatch him as a brand from the burnin' ! Take him up out o ; the horrible pit !'" An eager crowd waited about the mouth of the shaft. Those who stood at the edge of it looking down into the gloom saw the glimmer of a light. " They are coming" went amongst the crowd, and a great silence settled on all. Then far below they could faintly discern the candle, moving upwards, and at once there came a shout from old Michael, " He's safe, comrades ! " " Thank God ! " said every one, devoutly. Then old Michael stepped off the ladder, and told the stoiy of " Diggings " escape. And almost before the old man had done, " Diggings " himself came up, only looking about him sorrowfully as the people fell back to maike room for him. And close behind came young Cap'n Joe. The impressions of his deliverance did not leave Mat when he got into the daylight again ; they deepened. Such goodness to such an one as he was overwhelmed him. And by the side of it rose up the memory of his sins, so burdening him that he could scarcely touch his food, or even work or sleep. At times he roared in the disquietude of his soul. What David sang of and Bunyan pictured, he passed 146 DANIEL QUORM. through. In vain he heard the Gospel promises : they were for everybody but himself. Neither Dan' el nor young Cap'n Joe could help him. There was no light, no peace, no hope for him. So three weeks had gone by, and Mat, as every- body called him now, was sitting on the Sunday morning in the little chapel at Penwinnin. The Preacher was quietly going on in a somewhat drowsy way, when suddenly the congregation were startled : without a sign of what was coming, Mat leapt from his seat high into the air, and clasping his hands, gave a shout that seemed to shake the place. " Hallelujah ! " he cried again and again. Deliverance had come. The prison doors were opened and his chains were loosed, and now he literally danced for joy. The Father had welcomed him with the kiss of forgiveness, with the best robe, and the ring for the finger, and shoes for the feet ; now whac else could he do but begin to be merry ? " I can praise Thee now, my Lord, and I will," he cried, as the place rang again. The Preacher, a quiet, argumentative brother, stopped and looked over the high pulpit. Then he coughed, bewildered. The joy spread through the congregation until a score of voices rang with loud thanksgiving. The power of the Lord was present to heal, and others who had gone sorrowing for many days found joy and peace in believing. The service was turned FARMER (HUBBLE IS PUZZLED. 147 I into an inquiry meeting, and anxious seekers stayed hour after hour, so that the chapel could not be 7(1 until late at night. Each evening of the ags were held, and scores came under 3 of the Power, that transformed them ^ ly as it did the California!! Mat. Farmer Gribble all this was not only it was outrageous. Some of his pre- iegun to soften, but on that Sunday dl shot up again, as he found himself |,midst of a Cornish revival. The ; over his head; the colour flew he rose up and hurried from determined that he would to do with a people who could edings. i almost triumphant air of relief that e hallowed stillness of the old parish church, that afternoon. Its holy quiet was sweet and refreshing, as when one steps from the fierce glare of noon into cold depths of leafy shade. But as the farmer kneeled in prayer before the service began, he had forgotten all about church, or chapel either. He only wanted to love that gracious Lord Whom he had grieved so long, and with this one thought filling heart and mind, he stood up at the beginning of the Liturgy. The words were no more a dead letter to him, but the utterance of his inner- 146 DANIEL QFOKJT. through. In vain he heard the Gospel promises : they were for everybody but himself. Neither Dan' el nor young Cap'n Joe could help him. There was no light, no peace, no hope for him. So three weeks had gone by, and Mat, as |-J body called him now, was sitting on the morning in the little chapel at Penwinnii Preacher was quietly going on in a sr drowsy way, when suddenly the congrega % startled : without a sign of what was co_ fr leapt from his seat high into the air, ^-. ~- * his hands, gave a shout that seeme/j S !~=f place. "Hallelujah ! " he cried a/f= r:i ," r Deliverance had come. The 5 iff \ opened and his chains were ICK~ "literally danced for joy. The Fat. him with the kiss of forgiveness, wi j|j and the ring for the finger, and now w.hai; else could he do but begin to " I can praise Thee now, my Lord, and I will,' he cried, as the place rang again. The Preacher, a quiet, argumentative brother, stopped and looked over the high pulpit. Then he coughed, bewildered. The joy spread through the congregation until a score of voices rang with loud thanksgiving. The power of the Lord was present to heal, and others who had gone sorrowing for many days found joy and peace in believing. The service was turned FARMEK tftfmtfLE IS PUZZLED. 147 into an inquiry meeting, and anxious seekers stayed on hour after hour, so that the chapel could not be closed until late at night. Each evening of the Aveek meetings were held, and scores came under the influence of the Power, that transformed them as completely as it did the Californian Mat. To poor Farmer Gribble all this was not only perplexing, it was outrageous. Some of his pre- judices had begun to soften, but on that Sunday morning they all shot up again, as he found himself suddenly in the midst of a Cornish revival. The short hair bristled over his head; the colour flew to his cheeks. At last he rose up and hurried from the place, hurt and angry, determined that he would have nothing more to do with a people who could tolerate such proceedings. It was with an almost triumphant air of relief that he turned into the hallowed stillness of the old parish church, that afternoon. Its holy quiet was sweet and refreshing, as when one steps from the fierce glare of noon into cold depths of leafy shade. But as the farmer kneeled in prayer before the service began, he had forgotten all about church, or chapel either. He only wanted to love that gracious Lord Whom he had grieved so long, and with this one thought filling heart and mind, he stood up at the beginning of the Liturgy. The words were no more a dead letter to him, but the utterance of his inner- 1 i8 DAXIEl most heart ; and tears filled his eyes and his voice was choked more than once as he thought of that loving Lord, and joined in confessing : We have erred, and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep. Farmer Gribble could not sing ; but to-day he almost put the old clerk out in trying to, for he wanted to find some outlet for the blessedness that he felt in the words : Thou art the King of Glory, Christ; Thou art the everlasting Son of ihe Father. . . . When Thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, Thou didst open the kingdom of heaven to all believers. He would have been startled if he had heard the old clerk's growl when the service was done : " That there Mest' Gribble es wuss than the Methodis' their awn selves, a-goin' on so an' a- puttin' anybody out like that. He ought to be 'shamed of hisself; iss, he ought. Why don't he go to chapel an' keep there ? " Next day the farmer came, full of complaint, to his old friend Dan' el. " Lewk yere, Dan' el," he began, the indignation flashing up again for a moment " lewk yere. I can't make mun out for the life o' me. What be all thes yere noise about ? Ef these yere chaps be right, then I be all wrang still, but I can't go on like that theare, an' I doan't mane tew, nayther." " Well, Mest' Gribble, don't then; nobody wants 'ee to," said Dan'el, playfully. FARMER GRIBBLE IS PUZZLED. 149 " But I can't abide it, Dan'el. And they haven't a-got no bezness for tew be goin' on like it, an' " " Stop, stop, friend," cried Dan'el, gently, see- ing that the farmer was getting warm. " Don't let you an' me go a-talkin' so. The Lord have got different ways o' comin' to different people. He do come to some with a star for a token ; an' never a sound in the still night, but that there gentle shinin' a-leadin' 'em on an' on to the Blessed Jesus. Then they fall down an' worship Him, and open their treasures o' gold, an' myrrh, an' frankincense. But they are the wise men, Mest J Gribble ; and because they are wise they won't go quarrellin' with the shepherds if the Lord do choose to come to them with a great light that do frighten 'em a'most out o' their wits, an' because they do go glorify in' God." " But, Dan'el, yew don't mean fur tew zay that they went shoutin' an' jumpin' about like a passle o' mazed volks, dew 'ee ? " said the farmer, gently, for all the indignation had died out of his words now. " Well, I expect some o' them did. You see it do all depend 'pon the sort o' men, Mest' Gribble. People would never be so foolish as to go talkin' like this about anything else. They'd leave room for different sorts o' folks to show their feelin's in different sorts o' ways. S'pose now some old uncle died an' left you a thousand pounds. You do get the letter to-morrow morniu' tellin' 'ee of it. An' 150 VAXIEL QUORM. Mat, he do get a letter sayin' the same thing there's a thousand pounds left for him too. Why, he'd only stop to read the letter half through, then he would jump up an' run off to tell one an' another; he'd shout an' clap his hands an' go on so ! I s'pose that you would put the letter in the fire, wouldn't 'ee ? ' Aw/ you'd say, 'it can't be true 't all, for I can't jump about like that, an' I don't mean to, neither.'" Dan' el paused a moment, and looked up for the farmer's reply. "Yew'm right, Dan'el quite right," said Most' Gribble, slowly noddin' his head over the handle of his walking-stick. " No. You'd read that letter over half a dozen times, Mest' Gribble, for to make sure of it ; and then you'd put it in your pocket without sayin' a word to anybody, an' you'd go right off for to see the will, an' think o' the best thing to do with it. That's what you'd do, isn't it ? " Mest' Gribble nodded his head. " But you'd have the money so much as Mat would. An' Mat would have it so much as you, every bit." Slowly the farmer rose. " I will go home an' look to the Will, Dan'el." Then he held out his hand with a sigh. " Yew must teach me, please. I be so ignorant as a child, an' obstinate tew dreadful obstinate. Good-bye, an' thank 'ee, Dan'el, thank 'ee." X. gun'd's Jtofams abmtf (Crumbling. T was a dull No- vember evening, damp and close. A dense mist had hung about the hills all day and crept heavily along the valleys; now it had come filling the room. The fire sulked half asleep in the little grate, wak- ing up sometimes only to blink uncomfortably, and sink to sleep again. Altogether, so far as the weather was con- cerned, it seemed a good deal easier to grumble at other people for grumbling than to talk about it in any bright and happy fashion. But plainly Dan'el had made up his mind not to be beaten by that 152 DANIEL QPOR3T. There was almost a defiant cheeriness about the way in which he gave out the hymn : " Come, friends, the Lord tune our hearts. Ten's an' Sevens. '0 Heavenly Kiug, Look down from above ! Assist us to siug Thy mercy and love : So sweetly o'erflowing, So plenteous the store, Thou still art bestowing, And giving us more.' " By the time they had got to the end of the first verse the dulness had begun to lift from some hearts, and before the hymn was done all was glowing and joyful. Dan'el's prayer completed the gladness; so real, so hearty, with such a triumph in the Lord Jesus, that it was irresistible. All rose ready to enter thoroughly into the subject that had been previously announced for the evening. Yet there was, perhaps, one exception ; but only one. Widow Pascoe sat and sighed with a kind of obsti- nate dolefulness, as if she had set herself to be the witness of her creed, according to which grumbling was one of the truest signs of grace. Dan' el opened the Bible at the First Epistle to the Corinthians, the tenth chapter. The sturdy forefinger guided his eye to the tenth verse. But the misty light was too dim for his failing sight. In vain the spectacles were drawn to the tip of the nose, whilst the head was thrust backward for a more distant view. But it was all of no avail. DAN'EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT GRUMBLING. 1 53 'Here, Cap'n Joe, you must take an' read it for me, please ; 't is to the tenth verse." " Neither murmur ye," Cap'n Joe began, in his ringing bass voice. "But stop a m.inute," Dan' el interrupted, "seem- in' to me that we ought to begin further up than that. What's that about neither be ye idolaters ? '' " In the seventh verse ? " And Cap'n Joe read on : " Neither lie ye idolaters, as were some of them ; as it is written, The people sat down to eat and drink and rose up to play." "There," cried Dan'el, looking up suddenly, " that's what I wanted. You see the Lord doesn't only give us a commandment not to grumble, but He puts it alongside o' all the dreadfulest things in the world. An' I want for all of us to look at that, for grumblers be like to us old folks they can only see plain when things are a goodish way off. Their own faults an' failin's are too close for 'em to notice; but they have got a wonderful quick eye, sure 'nough, for the faults o' their neighbours, an' a quick tongue for to tell about 'em, too. So now, friend grumbler, as you can't see yourself, look 'pon your company, for they say that a man is known by his friends. Here is a shockin' set for a man to be in, specially if he do count hisself a Christian. Why, this here murmurin' have joined 'ee to idola- ters. You're a-keepin' company with shameless 154 D.INIEL people. You're goin' along hand in hand with them that do tempt Christ. There's pretty com- pany for anybody, isn't it ? " Dan' el stayed a moment, as if this needed time to sink in. It was evident that to Widow Pascoe it was new light, and gave her " quite a turn ; " for there were two things that she prided herself upon : one was the expansive whiteness of her widow's cap, the other was the very select set that she admitted to her friendship. Before she had time to recover, Dan'el went on again : " An' it is n't just a bit o' chance like either, findin' the grumblers here. A good man may some- times be jostled by an ill crowd ; but this is where the grumbler do belong ; 't is his proper place. There's a dreadful picture in this Book where the King o' glory is comin' for to punish His enemies comin' with ten thousand of His saints for to take vengeance 'pon the rebels. Ah, folks will stare then. Here the angels are takin' hold o' one an' another. Why, they have made a mistake, surely ! The King o' glory is come ( to execute judgment ' 'pon drunkards an' thieves an' liars ; but that man is a sort o' religious gentleman ; an' that woman is very religious sometimes ! But the angels bind 'em hand an' foot accordin' to orders. Read out the pi'oclamation, Cap'n Joe, will 'ee, please ? 'T is in Jude-the fourteenth verse, I reckon." DAN'EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT GRUMBLING. 155 Slowly and solemnly the words fell from Cap'n Joe's lips ; " Behold, the Lord cometh with ten thou- sands of His saints, to execute judgment upon all, and to convince all that are ungodly among them of all their ungodly deeds which they have ungodly committed, and of all their hard speeches which ungodly sinners have spoken against Him. These are murmurers, complainers" "Ala, there 't is, friends; there 't is!" cried Dan' el. " ( These are murmurers, complainers.' First and foremost among the rebels stand their names : MURMURERS ! COMPLAINERS ! " Widow Pascoe started slightly. " But finish it, Cap'n Joe, will 'ee, please ? " "Murmurers, complainers, walking after their own lusts ; and their mouth speaJceth great swelling words, having men's persons in admiration because of advantage." Then Dan' el broke in again : " Not 'zackly the worst kind o' grumblers either ; for you see they could speak a work o' praise sometimes, when there was something to be got by it. But 't is busy-all for to get anything else but grumblin' out o' the grumblers that be goin' now-a-days." Again Daniel stayed a few moments, as if that needed time " for to get well home," as he called it. Then he went on more cheerily : ' But mind, friends, there's some things that 156 DANIEL QUORM. anybody may grumble against without much harm. He may grumble at his own sin an' folly, an' be none the worse for it, 'specially if he'll set to work for to mend so well as murmur. There's things that a man can't help grumbliu' about if there's any soul in him at all. The man who can see a great evil, an' hold his tongue about it is every bit so bad as he that do hinder good by grumblin' at it. They two can set up business with the same stock in trade. "An* there's another thing, too, that I don't want for to forget. There's a little bit more excuse for some folks grumblin' than there is for others. When anybody have got all that he ought to wish for an' yet do go grumblin', I'd give him this here physic so strong and so bitter as ever I could. But poor folks that have got to grind day an' night for to keep the wolf from the door, and poor women that are weak to begin with, an' got to go carryiu' a great pack o' worries 'pon their backs, well, I'm sure my Master would like me for to sweeten the physic a bit for them, an' flavour it up like they do for the children. Yet, you poor worried folks, don't } Q go a-thinkin' that cares and worries will excuse your grumblin' ; they won't do that 't all. 'T is put down for you so much as for anybody : 'Neither murmur ye.' ' Dan'el's words and tones grew full of an exqui- site pathos and tenderness as he went on : DAN'EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT GRUMBLIKQ. 157 ( ' You do want more help than some folks do, an* you shall have it too. I was thinkin' about it down by the sea the other day. When the tide come in it filled up the great caves so easy every bit as it did the little holes in the rocks. Great wants is only like plenty o' room for the help o' the Blessed Jesus. Why, if there hadn't been any lame folks an' sick folks an' blind folks when He was down here 'pon earth He could never have let people see how merciful He was. An' so 't is you that have got most for to bear, and most for to carry, that do come to know how kind an' lovin' He is. Bless His dear name, He do keep such lovely little bits o' tenderness for us when we're cast down an' tired ; an' He do take up the great heaps o' care an' carry 'em for us. No, you poor dears that are tempted an' tried mustn't go a-grumblin', because you've got such a glorious Lord waitin' for to help 'ee, you have. An' don't go thinkin' that they that have got everything haven't got any worries 'long with it. There was one of our Preachers once, he lent me an old book called The Christian Jewel of Con- tentment. There was a lot o' capital things in it, and this was amongst 'em : ' The devil is called, in the Bible, Beel-zebub ; that do mean " the god o' flies " ; an' you're sure to find 'em a-buzzin' about the honey pots o' prosperity.' "But come, friends, we mu^t go a bit deeper 7. 9. 158 DANIEL QFOBJf. into this matter, an' track this old varmint right up to his den. I don't wonder that,the Lord punished it like He did. 'T is just what the Book do say, such a provokin' kind of thing : so aggravatin' an' so insultin'. Here is the lovin' Father carin' for us, an' arrangin' for our good an' blessin' us, all so kind an' so wise. An' all the time here's a silly blind man who can't see any o' the evil that the Lord is a-keepin' him out of, nor half o' the good that He is a-leadin' him into ; and yet he's a-mut- terin' an' a-murrnurin' just like as if things was put together a-purpose for to spite him. 'T is dreadful, sure 'nough ! dreadful. "I'm quite sure o' one thing, that this here grumblin' is the devil's oldest son; an' the image of his father, too. He do always claim his place, an' go first, an' after 'en do come all the rest o' his rabble an' crew. Some say that Adam and Eve fell through pride, an' some do put it down to other things ; but 't was old Discontent he was to the bottom o' all the mischief. ' Nonsense/ he grumbled, { nonsense, Eve, don't you think that you are blest 't all. You never will be till you've tasted that there apple.' So 't was long with Cain : if he hadn't murmured first, he wouldn't have murdered afterwards. 'T is a ghastly old thing is this Grumblin', friends; don't let us have anything to do with it. Why, back here in the history of Israel there's thousands an' thousands DAN' EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT GRUMBLING. 159 o' graves, an" for every one o' them there's the same thing put up on the tombstone : Here lies a man that died for grumblin'. Ah ! that was mightier than Pharaoh and all his chariots, for they escaped him. That was worse than slavery, for God could fetch them out o' that. It was worse than all their enemies put together grumblin' killed them ! "An' yet there's scores o 'good people who count that grumblin' is no sin at all. They'll confess their sins, and they'll own to unbelief an' scores o' things. But they never thought o' kneeling down an' sayin' : Lord, forgive my grumblin', and help me never to do it again, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. Yet we do need to, friends. I'm sure we do need to. Grumblin' have been the death o' thousands ; and if we don't take care it will be the death of us too. f ' But there, it won't do for me to have all the talkin'. Come, Cap'n Joe, what have you got to say about it ? You aren't no friend to it, I do know." "Well," said Cap'n Joe, "I've been turning over in my mind what you said about this grumbling being so aggravating and insulting. So it is. I was thinking, suppose that we were lost among a savage people, our very lives in danger and a great price demanded for our freedom ; then there conies One, and out of pure love and pity He gives Himself up to be plundered and stripped for our deliverance. Now He comes to us with all His bleeding wounds 160 DANIEL QUOSM. and marks of ill-treatment, and He says, ' Follow Me. I will bring you safely to the Father's House. I will guide you. I have arranged for the supply of all your wants. I am able to protect you from all enemies. Follow Me ! ' Our hearts are full of love to Him ; and thankful and trustful we set out. But soon there comes a bit of a hill and He hears us grumbling because 't isn't level ground. He leads us through the forest, and we grumble at the brambles. Ah ! I think I see Him look round upon us so hurt and so grieved. No enemy could ever hurt Him like that. After all His love and promises, all that He has done for us and all that He is going to do, to go fretting and grumbling ; it is a ghastly sin, as you do say, dear leader." "And to treat Him like that, friends the Blessed Lord Jesus ! " and as Dan' el spoke the tears trickled down his face. 'But go on, Cap'n Joe; an' I'm glad to hear 'ee, too." " Well, there was only one thing more that I thought of : 't is such a shameful forgetting of the past. These grumbling Israelites forgot all about the brick kiln and the burning sun, and the task- master's whip and the drowned children. And they forgot all about the great deliverance : how they had come over the Red Sea, and how God had fed them with the manna." "'Zackly," cried Dan' el, his eye twinkling DAS' EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT GRUMBLING. 161 merrily, and his face lit up, " 'zackly, Cap'n Joe. 'T is always like that with this here Grumblin'. I thought about it the other day when I met the Coastguardman 'pon the cliffs. 'Well, friend,' I said, ' you arelike Thankfulness/ ' How so, Dan'el ? ' says he. ' Well,' I said, e that walks along 'pon top o' the cliffs with a telescope under his arm ; an' he spies out the Goodness of God all around. He has his eye 'pon the blessin' that is ever so far off, keepin' it in mind ; an' he sees the mercy that is only just turnin' the corner. That's Thankfulness, lookin' far an' near, findin' mercies everywhere.' ' Ah, Dan'el, I wish I was more like that ! ' says he. ' Iss,' I said, ' an' I wish I was too, for 't is a brave deal better than bein' like poor old Grumblin'. He haven't got a spy-glass at all, nor nothin' o' the sort. All he has got is a sort o' magnifyin'-glass, and every little worry he can find he do put under that, an' make it look so big that he do come to think that there isn't anything else in all the world." Farmer Gribble looked around in the silence that followed, and then began in his slow and almost drawling way ; yet in his tone and manner, and in everything about him, there was a childlike sim- plicity that was very beautiful. " Well, Dan'el, I be feared that I can't say nowt fur tew dew any- body any gude. I dew wish I could. And I ought tew, tew; for I've gone grumblin' for these years 162 DANIEL QPOBJt an' years; and I've a-lieerd nmn say, ' Set a thief tew catch a thief.' But I dew thenk the Lord, I heven't so much as f eeled fur tew want tew grumble fur thes long while now. And I dew count that a taste of the love of Jesus be a sure and certain cure fur gruniblin'. He 'th made it all so different; why theare, 'tes no gude tryin' fur tew help it. I be forced to go praisiu' Him all the day drough, an' I heven't so much as a breath left fur tew grumble weth ef I wanted tew. And I dew thank Him fur it weth all my heart ; that I dew/ Dan' el listened with delight, nodding his head as each sentence came slowly unfolding itself. To see the discontented and grumpy Mest' Gribble turned into this, was really something to rejoice over; and such joy came welling up in his soul that Dan'el took the Hymn-Book as a relief. Come, friends, we must sing a verse or two : ' Long as I live beneath, To Tnee let me live ! To Thee ray every breath In thanks and praises give ! Whate'er I have, whate'er I am, Shall magnify my Maker's name. 'My soul and all its powera. Thine, wholly Thine, shall be ; All, all my happy hours I consecrate to Thee : Me to Thine image now restore, And I shall praise Thee evermore.' DAS' EL'S NOTIONS ABOUT GRUMBLING. 163 "Now, friends," Dan'el began as they settled down again, " I've got one or two things more that I do want to say, an' I'll try and be quick over it, too/' Putting on his spectacles he drew from his pocket a bulky pocket-book, an I found a pige that was carefully turned down. " Here is a bit that I got from that old book ; 't is uncommon good." Stumbling a little over the large, straggling hand-writing, Dan'el read : " It tokeneth a man of very ill-nature when the prick of a pin rnaketli the flesh to rankle and fester. 80 it is the sign of a cor- rupt soul when every little trouble and affliction m