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COJLNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 FROM 
 
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 yrs. J. H. Tanner 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1919.H5H6 
 
 Hiram Golf's reliaion 
 
 The "shoemake 
 
 3 1924 022 250 603 
 
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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022250603 
 
JOHN AND HIRAM. 
 
 Page Q. 
 
HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 "Shoemaker by the Grace of God" 
 
 GEORGE H. fiEPWORTH 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the LIFE BEYOND," '*ROCK5 AND SHOALS/' ETC. 
 
 13TH Thousand 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 31 West Twenty-third Street 
 1894 
 
 UNI VI ULil'i Y 
 \ liJl^Ai^Y 
 
■f 
 
 h^ 
 
 < 
 
 /)7^zn I 
 
 Copyright 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & CO. 
 
 1893 
 
 Press of J. J. Liltle & Co. 
 Astor Place, New York 
 
 Y'l t.8 5i IVIH 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Shoes and Sermons i 
 
 II. 
 
 The Spokes and the Hub of the Wheel 22 
 
 III. 
 
 " Fearin' and Tremblin'." 43 
 
 IV. 
 Few Duties, many Privileges 59 
 
 V. 
 Is It a Vale of Tears? 75 
 
 VI. 
 " A Little Man Savin' Souls." 94 
 
 VII. 
 From Earth to Heaven 106 
 
HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 I. 
 
 SHOES AND SERMONS. 
 
 The Cheroquee flows hard by the Httle vil- 
 lage of Woodbine. It is a sluggish, shallow 
 stream, which takes life easily, if not lazily, 
 shelters a few varieties of fish, furnishes to ad- 
 venturous boys as many pink and white lilies 
 as they can carry home, and after meandering 
 through a dozen dales and cranberry meadows 
 
2 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 drops into the welcoming arms of the Atlantic, 
 fifty miles away. 
 
 It always reminds me of Pope's lines : 
 
 " Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, 
 And the smoother stream in smoother numbers flows.'' 
 
 It is pellucid, alluring, full of murmuring 
 music, and runs dimpling all the way, kissing 
 its banks with continuous good-nature. 
 
 Of a summer afternoon it serves as a mirror 
 for the fleecy clouds that linger overhead, more 
 than half conscious of the admiration they ex- 
 cite ; and there is an indefinable charm in its 
 rippling current as it curls up against the piers 
 of the rickety old wooden bridge, whose boards 
 are so loose that they rattle when the farmer's 
 wagon rumbles over them, and the farmer's 
 horse picks his way on the road to market. 
 At the setting of the sun the reflection of the 
 overhanging trees on the farther bank and of 
 the arched sky which is above us all is some- 
 thing marvelous to behold. There is nothing 
 left of beauty to desire. One looks into its 
 
SHOES AND SERMONS. 3 
 
 depths, and sees such a picture as artists dream 
 of but never paint. Many a time I have 
 wandered along its green banks and gazed at 
 two worlds, one above and the other below, 
 until the deepening shadows drove me home, 
 full of pleasant thoughts. 
 
 The village of Woodbine consists mainly of 
 a single street, stretching a mile from north to 
 south, on either side of which are the stores, 
 the churches, and the cottages of a majority of 
 the people. Back of this, and nearer the river, 
 are the houses of a score or two of families, 
 who earn a precarious living as best they can. 
 There is the carpenter, and the blacksmith, and 
 the painter, and the tinman, and just at the cor- 
 ner where two roads meet, the little domicile 
 of Hiram Golf, the shoemaker. 
 
 At the farther end of the village are the 
 woolen mills of Phil & Kuhn, who employ 
 about six hundred people. This mill is the 
 mainstay of the villagers. When the demand 
 for such goods is brisk, there is plenty of work, 
 
4 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION'. 
 
 and general prosperity and hilarity. When the 
 demand is light and the mills run on only half 
 time, it is hard to make both ends meet. 
 
 To the pastorate of one of the village churches 
 my friend John Jessig was called some years 
 since. He had a larger opportunity, but chose 
 that one. A young man, well equipped for the 
 Master's service, filled with that divine earnest- 
 ness which love of humanity always inspires 
 but which greed of fame never gives, he wel- 
 comed the invitation to a narrow field of labor. 
 " I want to learn how the great heart of man 
 beats," he said ; " and they can tell me the se- 
 cret in Woodbine as well as elsewhere. I must 
 get into touch with the laboring class, which, 
 after all, is the thinking class in this country ; 
 and if I preach by the side of a mill wheel I 
 shall find out what real men and women need." 
 
 The Reverend Robert Flood, his predecessor, 
 gave him the only thing he had to give — ad- 
 vice. The kindly old gentleman had been re- 
 tired on account of advancing age, after forty 
 
SHOES AND SEJiMONS. 5 
 
 years of patient and spiritually prosperous toil. 
 It is a young man's world though, and when 
 one has watched the frosts of sixty winters he 
 must step aside with such grace as he can sum- 
 mon. So the parish made Robert Flood pastor 
 emeritus, without a salary, or rather with such 
 slender and uncertain income as an occasional 
 donation party affords. When crippled by long 
 service there is hardly a green spot on the earth 
 for a white-haired minister, unless he finds it 
 in the cemetery. He is admired until he says 
 "Amen" in his farewell sermon, and after that 
 comes neglect. If he can go to heaven at once, 
 all is well ; if he insists on living, his last days 
 are full of sorrow and pain. 
 
 " It sometimes happens," said Mr. Flood to 
 John, ".that a minister's brain runs fallow as the 
 ground does. When, the farmer raises the same 
 crop year after year, he must needs give his 
 fields a rest, or stimulate them with a fertilizer. 
 You will preach yourself out unless you read 
 new books — and your salary will limit you in 
 
6 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 that direction — or study the wants of the peo- 
 ple by personal contact with their temptations 
 and struggles. If you are ever at a loss for a 
 Sunday topic, the shoemaker will give you one. 
 He thinks with one lobe of his brain while he 
 makes shoes with the other. He has been my 
 tonic for a long while, and will serve you a good 
 turn when you are in straits." 
 
 I hardly know how to describe Hiram Golf. 
 He was in many respects a remarkable man, 
 one worth looking at a second time. He was- 
 a philosopher without knowing it. To think his 
 way down into the depths of a problem was his 
 pleasure, and though his thoughts did not run 
 in the usual channels, they were always sug- 
 gestive. He was about fifty-eight years of age, 
 had gray hair, deep-set blue eyes, a complexion 
 that had never been tarnished by vicious habits, 
 and a voice so rich and mellow that it seemed 
 like a strain of music. 
 
 On the library shelf in his little shop was a 
 worn " Paradise Lost," a treatise on astronomy, 
 
SHOES AND SERMONS. 7 
 
 several reports of labor organizations, a worm- 
 eaten copy of " Pilgrim's Progress," and a Bible 
 which had been read so much that it could 
 hardly hold itself together. 
 
 The Bible is to many people an ornament 
 for the center table. Used in this way, it ought 
 to be expensively bound and kept free from the 
 marring stains of daily use. To others, it is a 
 religious luxury, a very important book to have 
 within reach in case of emergency, because it 
 vouches for the spiritual respectability and the 
 orthodoxy of the owner. To still others, and 
 Hiram is to be included in this list, it is one of 
 the necessaries of life, a joy, a comfort, a conso- 
 lation. Among such people the book is seldom 
 found in good condition, from the binder's point 
 of view. It is dog-eared, thumb-marked, and 
 many of its verses are so dimmed by constant 
 use that they are read with difficulty. A family 
 with a dog-eared Bible make earnest church- 
 members. God's blessing rests on the book 
 when it is thumb-marked; and if its sacred 
 
8 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 passages are blotted with tears, all the richer 
 the blessing. Bibles with the gilding perfect 
 are an accusation. They represent the secrets 
 of God under lock and key, where no eye can 
 see them and no heart get at them. 
 
 Hiram was an optimist in spite of the rheu- 
 matism. The twinges of that unpopular malady 
 forced him to make a grimace now and then, 
 but he was wont to say when the pain subsided 
 — and he always said it in such cheerful tones 
 that you were reminded of the sun peering 
 through the clouds on an April day — " There 
 will be no east wind up there! This old body 
 is a sort of tumbledown concern, but I shall 
 move into a new one by and by. To be young 
 again, without no ache or pain! -That's worth 
 looking forward to, don't ye think?" and he 
 turned his eyes to the window as though hoping 
 to get a glimpse of the glistening minarets of 
 the Beautiful City beyond the hills. 
 
 When John Jessig made his first excursion 
 through the parish he knocked at the shoe- 
 
SHOES AND SERMONS. g 
 
 maker's door. He had heard such kindly things 
 of him from the neighbors that he was curious 
 to make his acquaintance. 
 
 " Come in ! " cried Hiram. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, and hope I am not in- 
 truding." 
 
 " Wall," said Hiram, as he caught sight of 
 John's genial face, " you're welcome. Nobody 
 never intrudes here. Take a cheer, parson, take 
 a cheer. I'm right glad to see ye. Here, 
 Marthy, bring in that rocking-cheer from the 
 parlor. Nothin's too good for the minister, if 
 he's the right sort, and you look as though you 
 might be one of that kind, parson. 
 
 " Marthy, this is the new minister. Parson, 
 this is my wife. You'll want to know her, for 
 she's worth knowin'. Now then, if you'll ex- 
 cuse me, I'll keep right on with my work, fur 
 I'm ruther pressed to-day. You won't mind 
 that, will you? " 
 
 " On the contrary," replied John, fitting him-, 
 self into his surroundings with admirable tact. 
 
lO HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " That's what I thought," responded Hiram, 
 as he drove a peg home, '" or I wouldn't have 
 said it. So you've come to Woodbine to cast 
 your lot in with us folks." 
 
 " It looks like a promising field, Mr. Golf." 
 
 " Yes, for a right smart worker it is. Pretty 
 rocky ground, some of it, but all the more credit 
 if you manage to get a crop. It's up by day- 
 light and in bed by candle-light in Woodbine, 
 but I guess it's about as nigh to heaven from 
 the Cheroquee Valley as from any other p'int, if 
 ye reckon straight." 
 
 " I'm glad to be with the laboring class," said 
 John, hoping thereby to draw out the shoemaker. 
 
 " Hm ! I hain't no respect for any class that 
 ain't a laborin' class," was the reply. "The 
 Lord said, ' My Father worketh hitherto, and I 
 work.' I rather imagine that if God kin work 
 we needn't be ashamed to follow the example. 
 They say that every man thinks of God from 
 his own standp'int, so I naterally picter Him as 
 always busy. The world don't accept that idee, 
 
SHOES AND SERMONS. I I 
 
 but it's a great comfort to me. The man who 
 don't do nothin' ain't wuth nothin'. The kings 
 of the earth have got us on the wrong road. 
 To do nothin' is what they think makes 'em 
 different from the common run of folks. And 
 so it does ; it makes 'em worse. Then they 
 collect 'round 'em a multitude of other men 
 and women who take pride in doin' nothin', and 
 we've managed to get things so askew that we 
 call them the nobility. It's noble to be lazy, is 
 the gospel of this world. Ain't that queer, 
 parson? " 
 
 John nodded, unwilling to enter on a contro- 
 versy. 
 
 "It seems to me," continued Hiram, "that 
 common sense is standin' on its head instead of 
 its feet. The only noble man that I know any- 
 thin' about is the honest laborin' man. Work 
 is the law of natur, and the secret of human 
 happiness. Why, we've got to such a pass, 
 even in this country, that everybody is workin' 
 hard in the hope of gettin' so much money laid 
 
12 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 up that they needn't do nothin' by and by. 
 But somehow, before that time comes most of 
 'em die. That's what I call a Providence, for it 
 saves 'em from an awful disapp'intment. They 
 wouldn't have half as much pleasure in spendin' 
 their fortune as they got out of makin' it.'' 
 
 " I'm afraid you will not find many people 
 to agree with you, Mr. Golf." 
 
 " That don't make no difference. The truth 
 is the truth, whether it is believed or not. It 
 don't hurt the truth not to be believed, but it 
 hurts you and me if we don't believe it. If 
 there was less money in the world and more 
 stiddy work, we should be better off. An idle 
 class don't push, and they don't shove. They 
 jest stand by and let other people do the pushin' 
 and the shovin', and then they want their share 
 of the benefit. 
 
 " Two things ought to be done right away. 
 There's a whole lot of people up above us who 
 live in sinful pleasure because they've got so 
 much money. If you could reach up " — Hi- 
 
SHOES AND SERMONS. 
 
 13 
 
 ram suited the action to the word, stretching 
 his hands toward the ceiHng — "if you could 
 catch them by the trouser-legs and pull 'em 
 down to where they'd have to earn their livin' 
 you'd certain save their bodies by makin' 'em 
 healthy, and at the same time you might save 
 their souls by givin' 'em somethin' to think of 
 besides themselves. 
 
 " Then there's another whole lot of people, 
 who have dropped 'most out of sight because 
 they've had hard luck. They are willin' to take 
 a job, but can't find one. Down they go, far- 
 ther and farther, and take to vicious ways be- 
 cause nobody helps 'em. If we could stoop 
 over and grab 'em by the coat collar, and lift 
 'em up to regular employment, we'd wake up 
 their ambition and make men of 'em. There's 
 reforms enough, parson, right in sight; and if 
 you're willin' to sacrifice your pulpit dignity 
 and roll up your sleeves you'll be busy most of 
 the time. The world is worth savin'. Least- 
 wise, the Lord thought so." 
 
14 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 John's eyes glistened. Here was the man he 
 had longed to see — an unconventional creature, 
 with no respect for persons, but a boundless love 
 for his kind. He felt, while Hiram was talking, 
 as though some one had lighted the kindhng- 
 wood in his heart of hearts and the genial 
 warmth were stealing to every fiber of his being. 
 But he chose to keep still and let the shoe- 
 maker do the talking. 
 
 " Now see what the Bible says. It begins 
 with the work of creation and ends with the 
 work of salvation. Does any one take his ease 
 in the Bible ? If he does, he don't enjoy him- 
 self. God worked durin' six days, and made 
 the world, and it is intimated that He even got 
 tired, for He ' rested on the seventh day.' 
 
 " And when Christ came, He wasn't born in 
 no palace, but in a stable. He worked in Naz- 
 areth at a carpenter's bench, and when He left 
 that for His ministry He traveled on foot for 
 weary miles, and must have been worn out 
 when night fell. O parson, God's world is a 
 
SHOES AND SERMONS. 15 
 
 work-a-day world, and there ain't no honor in 
 idleness. Idleness is nothin' but a serpent's egg, 
 and only a serpent can come out of it." 
 
 During this same conversation John said, 
 "Now, Mr. Golf — " 
 
 " Call me Hiram, if you please, parson. 
 That's what they all call me, and I'd scarcely 
 know myself by any other name. But what 
 was you say in' ? " 
 
 " Simply this," answered John, " that I am 
 glad to see a man who can use the humblest 
 vocation for the glory of God, as you are doing." 
 
 Hiram laid his shoe down, and proceeded to 
 take off his leather apron. Then he crossed his 
 legs, clenched his hands around one knee, and 
 looked at John full in the face. Evidently the 
 minister had touched him on a tender spot. He 
 was in no degree excited, but was possessed 
 of the earnestness which sometimes makes us 
 fanatical. 
 
 "There ain't no sech thing in this universe, 
 parson," he responded with grave dignity. 
 
1 6 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " there ain't no sech thing in this wide world 
 as a humble vocation. You are on the wrong 
 track, even if you are our preacher, and what 
 you say isn't orthodox." 
 
 " Excuse me," quickly replied John, " if I 
 have wounded you by my hasty expression ; 
 but what I meant to say was — " 
 
 " No, no, parson, don't run away with the 
 idee that you've got to talk so's not to wound 
 me or any one else. 'Tain't that at all. What 
 I want is for you to guard against woundin' the 
 Lord. That's a more important matter." 
 
 "Yes?" said John, considerably embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 " Now, you are a minister of the Gospel by 
 the grace of God. Ain't that so?" 
 
 " I hope it is true, Hiram." 
 
 " You don't hope, parson, you know, or 
 you'll have to begin all over again. Well, I am 
 a shoemaker by the grace of God. If I make 
 good shoes I shall get just as much credit in the 
 hereafter as you will for bein' a faithful pastor. 
 
SHOES AND SEJiMOMS. 
 
 17 
 
 All work is noble and honorable, and it'll take 
 a good deal of argyment to show me that all 
 work isn't about equally important. You'll 
 carry up to the Jedgment-seat a fair sample of 
 the sermons you have preached, and I'll carry 
 up a fair sample of the shoes I've been makin'. 
 Your sermons will settle your future, and my 
 shoes will settle mine. We shall fall or rise 
 accordin* as the sample represents good or bad 
 work. You don't s'pose, do you, that the Lord's 
 a-goin' to look at your sermon and say, ' John 
 Jessig, take your seat 'way up there in front,' 
 then look at my shoes and say, ' Hiram, you're 
 mighty lucky to get in here at all ; go and take 
 a seat 'way down at the end there ' ? Oh no, 
 parson. That's the difference between the 
 Lord and us folks. If your sermon is good, and 
 my shoes is good, He'll say, 'John and Hiram, 
 you've used your talent about-equally well. Go 
 up there and sit in the front bench side by side, 
 and jine in the general Hallelujah.' " 
 
 "Then you don't think there'll be any dis- 
 
1 8 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 crimination as to the class of work done? " sug- 
 gested John. 
 
 " Only the discrimination between good work 
 and bad work, not between brain work and hand 
 work. I don't believe there'll be no aristocracy 
 in heaven ; not a bit of it. All the wings will be 
 made after the same pattern. Goodness is good- 
 ness, parson, whether you find it in the mill- 
 owner or a spindle-tender. The Spirit of the 
 Lord is jest as much with me as I sit here peg- 
 gin' away on Widow Brown's number fives, that 
 are split at the sides, as it is with you when you 
 are tryin' to write somethin' that'll convert sin- 
 ners and cheer the godly next Sunday mornin'. 
 Everythin' depends on the way we do our work ; 
 and as for that, it's jest as necessary for the 
 people to have good shoes as good preachers. 
 They can't get along without either. Men may 
 look down on a house-painter, or a carpenter, 
 but I reckon the angels don't do that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " That is all very interesting, Hiram, possibly 
 
SHOES AND SERMON'S. 
 
 19 
 
 a little startling and novel, but quite worthy of 
 consideration." 
 
 "Jest look at that, parson," and Hiram took 
 from a pile on the floor the battered shoe of a 
 child ; " that belongs to William Runkle's 
 youngest, a little feller of six, and not over 
 hardy. That boy's body ought to- be kept 
 healthy, oughtn't it? Wall, I'm goin' to do 
 my part. If he should catch cold some rrmddy 
 day, and get the pneumonia, his father; who 
 only earns twelve dollars a week, would have a 
 heavy doctor's bill to pay, and even then he 
 might lose the child. That would almost break 
 his heart, I do believe. Now then, I propose 
 to mend tljem shoes as though my salvation 
 depended on it. I can't afford, as a child of 
 God with a hope of , heaven, to put poor work 
 into that job. Too much depends on it. Yes, 
 parson," and Hiram looked at the shoe with 
 something like tenderness, " too much depends 
 on it. I wouldn't like to meet that boy up 
 yonder and have him tell me he died because I 
 
20 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 wasn't a faithful shoemaker. I couldn't stand 
 that nohow. Do you think a vocation is a hum- 
 ble one when it deals with the health and lives 
 of our fellow- creatures? I reckon not." 
 
 John Jessig regarded Hiram with mingled 
 surprise and admiration. He was discovering 
 some secrets, was getting a view of real life, was 
 looking at it from the standpoint of a working- 
 man. 
 
 On his way home he had a good deal to think 
 about. "All honest work is important," he said 
 to himself. "All work is important, and all work 
 should be honest. Every man should be conse- 
 crated to his business, no matter what it is. The 
 carpenter should ply his plane with his heart as 
 well as with his hands. The blacksmith should 
 drive nails into the horse's hoofs with his prayers 
 as well as with his hammer, and do it not for 
 pay only, but for God. We are all, every one of 
 us, priests of the Temple. Some wear robes, and 
 some are in shirt-sleeves ; some work with pen 
 and ink, and others with forges and scythes and 
 
SHOES AND SEJiMONS. 21 
 
 tailor's needles; but we are all priests, just the 
 same. Toil is honorable in itself, and ennobling 
 in its influence." 
 
 There was material for a sermon, one that 
 would touch the inner springs and motives of 
 the spiritual life, would impress upon men a 
 larger sense of personal importance in. the world, 
 lift them above the mere drudgery of their 
 tasks, and fill them with inspiring and cheering 
 impulses. 
 
 John Jessig had caught hold of a clue, and he 
 determined to follow it to the end. 
 
II 
 
 THE SPOKES AND THE HUB OF 
 THE WHEEL. 
 
 Late one afternoon, Hiram, John Jessig, and 
 Deacon Jonathan Tubbs were sitting together 
 on the stoop of the shoemaker's house. The 
 sun was just dropping behind the hills beyond 
 the river, and the great banks of clouds above 
 their well-wooded summits seemed all aflame. 
 The vanguard of approaching darkness wandered 
 lazily over the landscape, as though some one 
 with a whole armful of shadows had thrown 
 down a single handful, which the gentle wind 
 was scattering in every nook and corner. The 
 cows were lowing in the distant fields as though 
 their owners had neglected to call them to the 
 barn, and the hens were sauntering up and down 
 waiting for the roosting hour. Nature was in 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 23 
 
 her balmiest mood, and the dark blue sky seemed 
 like a beckoning hand. 
 
 Hiram had finished his day's work, had en- 
 joyed his supper, and was glad to see his friends. 
 His crutch — for one of his legs was badly 
 twisted — ^lay by his side. The weather was 
 warm, and he sat in his shirt-sleeves. 
 
 " Well, parson," he began, " what you been 
 doin' to-day? Is your sermon ready for Sun- 
 day, and what is it about? " 
 
 Deacon Tubbs hitched uneasily, for he had a 
 profound reverence for the cloth, and was almost 
 offended at Hiram's familiarity. 
 
 " Thank you for asking the questions," an- 
 swered John. " There is a large variety of 
 topics on the carpet just now, but I received 
 by mail yesterday a very encouraging report of 
 the progress made by our denomination, and I 
 thought of talking about that." 
 
 "A little praisin' of ourselves, eh, parson?" 
 and Hiram looked at John quizzically. 
 
 " No, I think not, Hiram, but we have made 
 
24 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 such great advances of late that it seemed worth 
 a mention." 
 
 " So it is parson, so it is. When the kingdom 
 spreads, tell the people all about it." 
 
 " It's encouragin' to know that we're keepin' 
 up our eend, and perhaps a leetle more," sug- 
 gested the deacon. " 'Twon't do to let other 
 folks get ahead of us. It makes us proud of 
 our church, and tells mightily on the contribu- 
 tion-box." 
 
 " That is well enough as fur as it goes," re- 
 marked Hiram, " but in my jedgment it don't 
 go fur enough. We ain't to forgit that the pur- 
 pose of all good men and women is to make 
 Christians, and not to make this or that kind of 
 Christians." 
 
 " I don't agree," broke in the deacon, " not 
 by a good deal. We are to — " 
 
 " Stop a minute, Jon' than, and let me say my 
 say out. Addin' members to our church, well, 
 it's one thing, and it ain't no more ; addin' mem- 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 2$ 
 
 bers to Christ is a much bigger thing. And I'll 
 tell you why I think so. It's jest this way : 
 when we get to heaven we shan't belong to the 
 'Piscopal or the Methodis' church, we shall sim- 
 ply belong to Christ's church. So we shouldn't 
 waste no time in specially makin' 'Piscopals or 
 Methodis'. We jine a denomination accordin' 
 to temperament, or early education, or possibly 
 prejudice, but it is nothin' more than a matter 
 of convenience. What we are after is not the 
 denomination, but the Christ who is in it. If 
 you shake the denomination oflf of a man and 
 leave the Christ, he don't lose much ; but if you 
 shake off the Christ and leave the denomination, 
 you take about all he has." 
 
 The deacon shook his head ominously, but 
 Hiram refused to be interrupted. " Now, 'way 
 down in the bottom of my heart, I belong to 
 every denomination on the footstool, because I 
 find somethin' in each one of 'em that helps me. 
 I never went into a church in my life where I 
 
26 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 couldn't sing ' Glory to God ! ' with the rest of 
 'em. They're all alike to tne, parson, if the Cen- 
 tral Figure is there." 
 
 Just then Tom Mag went by rolling a carriage 
 wheel. 
 
 " Accident? " sang out the deacon. 
 
 "Yes, a little one," was the reply; "but no 
 harm done. Farmer Bright had too big a load 
 on the hind seat, and three girls and a boy was 
 spilled in the dirt, that's all." 
 
 " Hm!" said Hiram eagerly, "that's jest what 
 I want for what I'm sayin'. See that wheel, 
 parson? " 
 
 The minister nodded. 
 
 "There ain't none of us blind," sneered the 
 deacon, who did not enjoy the shoemaker's 
 radicalism. 
 
 " Wall, supposin' that heaven was sitooated 
 on the hub of that wheel, and all the people of 
 the earth was livin' in different spots on the tire. 
 Them people want to get to heaven, that is, to 
 the hub ; and after doin' a deal of explorin' they 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 27 
 
 find the spokes which seem to lead in that direc- 
 tion. ' Hullo ! ' they say, ' there 'pears to be a 
 good many ways provided.' If good Deacon 
 Tubbs had been there, he would have argyed 
 that there could only be one way, and that all 
 the other spokes was a delusion and a snare. 
 But that wouldn't be sound reasonin', parson. 
 The Lord couldn't be as mean and narrer as we 
 are if He tried. So there is lots of spokes, and 
 they are all provided by Him. 
 
 " Now then, jest watch the people. Some of 
 'em trudge along one spoke, rriaybe a yaller one, 
 and some trudge along another spoke, maybe a 
 red one. The farther away they are from heaven 
 — that is, the hub — the farther apart they are 
 from each other; and the nearer they get to 
 heaven — that is, the hub — the nearer they are 
 to each other. Ain't that so, deacon?" 
 
 " Accordin' to the wheel that's so," replied 
 Tubbs frankly. 
 
 " All right. The p'int I want to make is this : 
 away from God, away from each other ; nigh to 
 
28 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 God, nigh to each other. That's Scripter, and 
 it's sense. 
 
 " When people is away off from the hub, each 
 one declares that his partic'lar spoke is the only 
 one that leads there, and so the quarrelin' begins, 
 and the Christianity steps out. This man won't 
 speak to that man because, as he says, he's trav- 
 elin' along the wrong spoke, and won't never 
 arrive to the hub. But by and by, when they 
 all get to heaven, they find to their surprise that 
 one spoke was jest as good as the other, no 
 matter whether it was red or yaller." 
 
 " I'm not quite sure of all that, Hiram," sug- 
 gested the minister, at which the deacon pricked 
 up his ears and became an attentive listener. 
 " Where there are many ways, it is safe to de- 
 clare, and dangerous not to, that some are better 
 than others ; and that there must be one way 
 which is better than all the rest. I don't see 
 how you can avoid that conclusion." 
 
 " Hold up, parson," said Hiram, as he pounded 
 the floor with his crutch in his eagerness, " don't 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 29 
 
 be in too much of a hurry. Let's stick to that 
 wheel. If you measure 'em with your foot- 
 rule, you find that one spoke ain't no shorter 
 road to the hub than any other. They are all 
 alike, except in color, and the color is nothin' 
 more than a matter of taste. What everybody's 
 got to do, in order to get to the hub, is to keep 
 on his individooal spoke ; and if he's got the right 
 spirit he'll invite them as hasn't no spoke at all 
 to make use of hisn. But as for sayin' that your 
 spoke is any better than the next one, you can't 
 honestly do it. 
 
 " I wouldn't lift my hand to help a man from 
 his spoke to mine unless he wasn't happy where 
 he happened to be, and didn't like the color of 
 the spoke he was travelin' on; but I'd go con- 
 siderable out of my way to lift a poor fellow 
 who is wanderin' round between the spokes, and 
 has lost himself, to get on my spoke. After 
 that, if I found he liked some one else's spoke 
 better'n mine, I'd do all I could to get him 
 where he'd make the most progress. 
 
30 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " There ain't no religion in quarrelin' about 
 spokes, but if you want to discuss plans for 
 h'istin' everybody on some one of the spokes 
 and givin' him a fair chance to get to the hub 
 at last, why, that's a very different sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " Then you'd have me praise all denomina- 
 tions equally, would you, Hiram?" said John. 
 " That would hardly be reasonable. Didn't I 
 join this one because I believe it to have advan- 
 tages over others, and if I think so oughtn't I 
 to say so ? It seems to me I should be loyal to 
 the body of which I am a part." 
 
 " Yes, parson, you jined it because it had ad- 
 vantages over others for you yourself. That's 
 why I jined it too. But you don't mean that 
 because you jined it therefore everybody else 
 ought to jine it, do you? " 
 
 "Certainly he does," broke in the deacon; 
 ' that's jest what he means." 
 
 " Then he'd be more shaller than I think he 
 is," replied Hiram good-naturedly. " The fust 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 3 1 
 
 thing is to be ambitious for souls. It's not only 
 the fust thing, but the only thing. If your 
 denomination thrives because of that, well and 
 good. I hain't nothin' to say agin it. But 
 what you're after is souls, and the denomina- 
 tion'll foller at its own gait. There ain't no use 
 of talkin', parson, men is made on different plans, 
 and they can't all think alike or feel alike. There 
 are the Methodis' up at tother end of the village. 
 Jest see what they're doin' ! Now, we can't all 
 be Methodis', for we ain't built that way ; but 
 would it do you, or me, or would it do the Lord 
 any harm- if you was to call them Methodis' your 
 brethren, and lend 'em a helpin' hand when they 
 get up a fair to pay off their debt? " 
 
 "What!" cried the deacon in alarm, "take 
 money out of our pockets to arm our rivals with 
 weapons against ourselves? What are you 
 thinkin' of, Hiram ? " 
 
 " I'm tryin' to think of God," said Hiram 
 quietly, "and not too much of our partic'lar way 
 of doin' things." 
 
32 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " Go on, Hiram," said John. " You were 
 about to say something else." 
 
 " Wall, at the other end of the village is the 
 Tiscopalians and the Presbyterians. Now I 
 couldn't be neither one nor tother, and yet I 
 sometimes think I'm both. Ain't they mowin' 
 down evil with a sharp scythe, and ain't they 
 cuttin' a pretty wide swarth ? Would you stop 
 'em? I make a mistake in you, parson, if you 
 would." 
 
 " Then you don't believe in no true church, 
 don't you ? " asked the deacon. 
 
 " Yes I do, yes I do," was the earnest response. 
 " I believe if you should roll all the churches up 
 in one bunch, that would be the true church. 
 This one is true for me, and that one is true for 
 the next man, and I don't see how you can get 
 out of it. What's wanted is somethin' for every- 
 body, and if everybody is to have somethin' then 
 that somethin' ought to have different tastes to 
 suit vary in' dispositions and temperaments." 
 
 " You seem to be willing to take the whole 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 33 
 
 world to your embrace on equal terms, Hiram," 
 suggested the minister. " I don't think I can 
 quite go with you to that extent." 
 
 " Nor me neither," said the deacon. " 'Tain't 
 natur." 
 
 " You would dissipate all pride of denomina- 
 tion," continued John, " which you must admit 
 is a very important matter, and thereby lessen 
 the enthusiasm of the whole body of clergy." 
 
 "Lessen their enthusiasm, parson?" replied 
 Hiram with some ardor. " Nothin' of the sort, 
 accordin' to my way of thinkin'. If you was 
 in the stern of a life-boat, tryin' to save some 
 wrecked sailors, it ought not to lessen your en- 
 thusiasm because the man at the bow was haulin' 
 the drippin' fellers in at his end, and doin' as 
 good work as you was doin' at your end. Not 
 a bit of it, parson. On the other hand, if you 
 work in the right spirit, your enthusiasm is in- 
 creased by the successful work of other people. 
 Now, if your object in goin' in that life-boat had 
 a element of pure selfishness in it, and you wanted 
 
34 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 to show what a big and strong man you was, 
 you'd be awfully discouraged if some one else 
 was bigger and stronger than you, and got more 
 half-drowned folks into the boat than you did. 
 But if you had the proper motive, and your only 
 purpose was to have the lost saved, no matter 
 who saved 'em, you'd thank God that some one 
 was workin' alongside of you, and then strain a 
 muscle to see if you couldn't get hold of an 
 extra soul or two." 
 
 " You don't think it well, I take it, to have 
 the world divided into religious sects, then, 
 Hiram. In that case, why do you belong to 
 one particular sect ? You are apparently incon- 
 sistent there." 
 
 " I guess not, parson. I believe in sects with 
 all my heart, but I can't believe in fences be- 
 tween 'em. With a powerful devil to fight, I 
 don't see no sense in wastin' our gunpowder on 
 each other. Instead of sayin' to each other, ' I'm 
 right, and you're wrong,' I would have 'em say, , 
 ' We are both right, and the devil is wrong,' and 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 35 
 
 then jine forces to whip the enemy. I would 
 leave all the sects jest as they be, but I would 
 make 'em neighborly. 
 
 " Now, when we had the great war that we've 
 just come out of, we got together a tremenjous 
 army, and they h'isted the flag and nailed it to 
 the masthead. The gov'ment didn't say that 
 every regiment should wear the same uniform, 
 though they was all fightin' for the same cause. 
 Oh no, parson. Mr. Lincoln allowed Illinois to 
 get up a regiment of artillery, and Massachusetts 
 to get up a regiment of cavalry, and New York 
 to send a regiment of Zouaves, with red shirts 
 and blue trowsers. If a man wanted to jine the 
 artillery, all right. He was welcome to do it. 
 If he jined the cavalry, all right ; nobody said 
 nothin'. If he wanted to be a Zouave, all right. 
 What difference did it make,, so long as he went 
 into the field ? People followed their own tastes 
 in such matters, because it wasn't no matter 
 where they was, provided they was in fightin' 
 trim. 
 
36 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 "Jest look at the picter. There was the ene- 
 my, and a hard enemy they was to beat. We 
 found that out, didn't we? Who cared whether 
 this soldier had on a red coat, if he handled his 
 gun proper? Courage don't depend on cloth- 
 ing, but on the heart, and what we wanted was 
 courage. ' God bless every one of 'em,' we said, 
 ■ and they can have pea-green uniforms if they 
 want to.' Why, if you and I had dared to crit- 
 icise 'em in them partic'lars, we should have 
 been hooted out of town, and, parson, we'd 'a' 
 deserved to be." 
 
 " Oh yes, that's all straight, Hiram," began 
 the deacon; " but don't you see — " 
 
 "Jest wait a minute, deacon," broke in the 
 shoemaker; "I'm comin' to that p'int directly. 
 Now, in them times there was some folks up 
 north who didn't want to wear no uniform at 
 all, and objected to jinin' any regiment. They 
 was after fightin' on their own individooal hook. 
 In that case we shouldn't 'a' knowed whether 
 they was on our side or tother, and they might 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 37 
 
 get shot by their own friends. What did we 
 say? We told 'em that the federal army, with 
 the flag of the Union floatin' above it, was a 
 organized body of men, and that organization 
 was necessary to effective work. If you take a 
 handful of loose sand and throw it at the winder- 
 pane, it don't break nothin' ; but if your handful 
 of sand is made soHd like the atoms of a stone, 
 and then you throw it, you break the winder- 
 pane to smash. That's the way we argyed. We 
 didn't ask people to enlist in this regiment, or 
 in that one, but we asked 'em to choose any 
 regiment, and then put on that regiment's uni- 
 form. Not that the uniform was better than the 
 others, but it was theirs. If we had fought as 
 individooals, without bein' properly commanded, 
 we should have lost the day, for certain ; but 
 we fought in companies, in battalions, in army 
 corps, and so won the battle." 
 
 " Now let's hear what all this is driftin' to- 
 ward," said the deacon. 
 
 " Well, it's jest this wise. I would say the 
 
38 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 same thing about religion. The rule holds good 
 in both cases, and no mistake. I wouldn't tell 
 a man he m.ust jine this or that or the other 
 church. There is churches enough to suit every- 
 body's peculiarities, and he should be free to do 
 as he pleases about that. I would say, ' Jine 
 some church, any church, and I shall be satis- 
 fied. Don't fight the evil in the world on your 
 own hook, as a free lance, because you will 
 throw your best efforts away and waste a lot of 
 vallible energy. Jine anywhere, only jine, and 
 add your individooal strength to the strength of 
 others. If you do that, you never'll be sorry. 
 What do you say, parson?" 
 
 "Well, I can only partially agree with you, 
 Hiram. I don't think you emphasize denomina- 
 tionalism enough. It is worth more than you 
 think it is. Still, I am interested in your views ; 
 go on, and pray tell us how you have reached 
 these rather unusual and odd conclusions." 
 
 Hiram was silent for a minute or two, appar- 
 ently lost in meditation. He looked up at the 
 
SPOJCES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 39 
 
 sky and the scudding clouds, but did not find 
 there what he wanted. Then he looked through 
 the open window, into his little shop, glanced 
 hastily at the workbench on which he had sat 
 for many a year, at the hammer lying on the 
 floor, at the lapstone, and at a pile of shoes, large 
 and small, in various stages of dilapidation. They 
 did not, however, furnish him with the illustra- 
 tion he sought. At last his eyes fell on the 
 river, only a hundred yards away, and at once 
 his face brightened. 
 
 " Parson," he began, " have you ever rowed 
 on the Cheroquee?" 
 
 " But once or twice, on a summer evening, 
 Hiram." 
 
 "You have, deacon?" 
 
 " Yes, as many times as there are straws in a 
 haystack." „ 
 
 " Then you've noticed, deacon, that for half 
 a dozen miles, either way from here, it flows 
 through different kinds of soil." 
 
 "I hev; you're right there, Hiram." 
 
40 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " Away up yonder, parson, to the nor'ard, 
 and just this side of Clovertop, there's a soft 
 bank of clay, and as the water rushes by the 
 bend it breaks into this clay and becomes mud- 
 dy. You've noticed that, deacon?" 
 
 " For sartin, Hiram." 
 
 " Two miles lower down there is an area of 
 red sand, and the river takes up a quantity of 
 that, too." 
 
 " Right up there by the big perch holes, you 
 mean, Hiram, opposite Widow Green's farm ? " 
 
 " Precisely, deacon. Then down yonder, to 
 the south'ard, the soil is black loam, and it mixes 
 easily with the current. 
 
 " Now then, s'pose I fill three bottles at these 
 three different p'ints, and then place them on a 
 shelf, what happens? In the course of a few 
 hours each boftle has a quantity of pure, clear 
 water on top, and a lot of sediment on the bot- 
 tom. That's nateral. In one bottle, the sedi- 
 ment is clay ; in the next, it is red sand ; in the 
 third, it is dark-brown or black loam. 
 
SPOKES AND HUB OF THE WHEEL. 41 
 
 "Well, the River of Life is like the Chero- 
 quee. It runs through various countries, and 
 temperaments, arid times, and perhaps preju- 
 dices. This River of Life, w^hen it starts from 
 the Throne of God, is absolutely clear water, 
 but somehow it gets colored by the different 
 denominations through which it flows. I don't 
 see how that can be helped, and I'm not certain 
 that it ought to be helped. 
 
 " Your Methodism gives it one color, your 
 Catholicism gives it another color, and your 
 Presbyterianism and 'Piscopalianism gives it still 
 another color. Mind you, parson, no matter 
 how it is colored, it's always the River of Life. 
 Don't forget that. Yes, it's always the River 
 of Life, wherever it flows, no matter how mud- 
 died up it may be. 
 
 " If you fill your bottle at the p'int where it 
 flows through these different sects of Christians, 
 the fust thing you notice is that the water ain't 
 exactly clear. Let the bottles stand for a while, 
 and then you find that the water has purified 
 
42 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 itself, and the foreign substances that don't prop- 
 erly belong to it has all settled to the bottom. 
 That water is the same in all ' your bottles, and 
 it's the genooine article. These sediments, black, 
 brown, red, or any other color, represent the 
 ' isms ' of the church — Presbyterian-ism, Epis- 
 copal-ism, Catholic-ism, Method-ism, and so on. 
 
 " The sediment isn't worth much if you hap- 
 pen to be thirsty, though that's what men have 
 been quarrelin' about. The water, though, will 
 quench your thirst, and it ain't no matter which 
 bottle you drink out of. 
 
 " In this life it seems to be necessary to have 
 a certain amount of sediment in our religion, but 
 in the hereafter that will all be filtered out. 
 That's why I love every man who loves Christ, 
 and that's why I never ask what sediment he 
 believes in, but whether he's drinkin' from the 
 River of Life." 
 
III. 
 
 "FEARIN' AND TREMBLIN'." 
 
 John JessIG opened his house every Wed- 
 nesday evening for general conversation on re- 
 ligious subjects. These meetings were well 
 attended, partly because there was a good deal 
 of enthusiasm in the parish, partly because they 
 were more informal than a gathering in any 
 church could be, and partly because at eight 
 o'clock an urn of tea and another of coffee were 
 brought into the room and a half-hour of socia- 
 bility followed. 
 
 Tea and coffee as auxiliaries to religion have 
 been greatly underestimated. The aroma of 
 these genial beverages dissipates the frigid state- 
 liness of such occasions, and exerts a very neigh- 
 borly if not a distinctly evangelical influence. 
 Two men who are reasonably well acquainted 
 43 
 
44 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION: 
 
 will sit stiffly side by side for a full hour, as 
 though they were a couple of icicles, or as though 
 they were participants in a family feud, not know- 
 ing how to begin a conversation, or perhaps with 
 no desire to begin one. The cunning magic of 
 a cup of coffee changes their thoughts and feel- 
 ings in an instant, loosens their tongues by some 
 unaccountable legerdemain, and starts them on 
 a dozen topics in a dozen minutes. 
 
 Every clergyman knows that the simplest kind 
 of refreshments works wonders. Invisible bar- 
 riers tumble to invisible ground, and the chill 
 air gives way to something almost tropical. 
 Whether it is that the spiritual life is distantly 
 or indirectly related to the digestive organs, I 
 have never been able to discover. I merely re- 
 late facts, and leave the philosophy which under- 
 lies them to abler and more curious minds. 
 
 Young people especially are always in a state 
 of chronic hunger. They attend a meeting in 
 the vestry, which has no kitchen attached, in 
 the spiritual condition indicated by wraps and 
 
"FEARIN' AND TREMBLIN'." 45 
 
 furs ; but the sociability engendered in a meet- 
 ing which offers even the humble sandwich is as 
 tempting as a flower garden. The ice of formal- 
 ity melts, and religion joins hands with general 
 good feeling when the coffee-pot hums its little 
 song. 
 
 John Jessig had learned this secret from the 
 aged ex-pastor, who in turn had learned it by re- 
 peated experiment. From seven o'clock to eight 
 on this particular evening he had suggested 
 a variety of topics — the church debt, the feasi- 
 bility of holding a fair to pay off the mortgage, 
 and the best means of reaching the unchurched 
 of Woodbine ; but no one ventured to break 
 silence except Deacon Northwind, who droned 
 in his usual way and got all his verbs tangled 
 in the meshes of his adjectives, and one other 
 individual, who spoke so low that he could 
 hardly hear his own voice. It was an iceberg 
 hour, and John felt the cold chills creeping over 
 him. 
 
 But after the table had been cleared away it 
 
46 HJRAM GOLF'S RELIGION: 
 
 seemed as though everybody wanted to talk at 
 once. Sisters and brethren were alike so full 
 of opinions that they could hardly contain them- 
 selves. Faces wore an entirely different ex- 
 pression, and tongues which had suffered from 
 paralysis suddenly started into activity. The 
 meeting from that moment was not merely lively, 
 but effervescent, and John recognized gratefully 
 the benign influence of the coffee berry and the 
 tea plant. 
 
 That portion of the debate to which I wish to 
 call your attention followed close on the heels of 
 a remark by Farmer Kinch. Kinch was a thor- 
 oughly good man — now gone to his reward — 
 but his heart seemed to work upside-down. 
 Religion, to him, involved a frightful responsi- 
 bility. There was a modicum of misery in his 
 happiness. If there had not been, he could not 
 have been happy at all. The ordinary pleasures 
 of life seemed to him to be tinged with criminal- 
 ity, and whenever he saw a man thoroughly en- 
 joying himself he shook his head mournfully. 
 
"FEARIN' AND TREMBLIN'." 47 
 
 It might not be fair to say that some people 
 are so good that they are bad ; but I venture the 
 assertion that when a man thinks God made a 
 mistake in creating flowers and painting the sky 
 blue instead of black, and then runs his life by 
 that theory, he depresses the spiritual vitality in 
 his vicinity. 
 
 Farmer Kinch had only one string to his harp, 
 but he played on that with vigor and persistency. 
 It was what the neighbors called " the fear and 
 tremblin' string." 
 
 Hiram listened very respectfully at first, but, 
 after that, very impatiently. He shifted from 
 one side of his chair to the other, and at last, 
 unable to stand the pressure any longer, broke 
 in on the monotonous speaker. 
 
 " Brother Kinch," he said, " I've been thinkin' 
 about that for a good many years now. I reckon 
 you and me agree about the fust part, that is, 
 the workin'-out-our-salvation part, because sal- 
 vation is a great and glorious thing, that can't 
 be understood all to once. There's a mighty 
 
48 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 deal to it, more than any one can get hold of in 
 a day, or a year, or a lifetime. We keep workin' 
 at it, unrollin' it, examinin' it, and the more we 
 work the more we learn about it, and the more 
 grateful we be. But as to the ' fear and trem- 
 blin',' I don't exactly catch your meanin'. How 
 do you explain that? " 
 
 "Wall," said Farmer Kinch, not unwilling to 
 measure swords with his adversary, and feeling 
 very sure of his ground, " I take the Scripter 
 just as it reads. It's plain enough, and I don't 
 see no chance for a difference of opinion. When 
 the Bible says spade I don't s'pose it means 
 shovel." 
 
 "That's all right," rejoined Hiram. "But 
 the parson will tell us, I guess, that before we 
 make a theory out of Scripter it's dangerous 
 not to examine it pretty thorough. If it says 
 spade so plain that nobody can make anythin' 
 else out of it, then I am willin' to take the spade 
 and work out my salvation with it. I don't want 
 no shovel if the Lord says spade, and I won't 
 
"FEARIN" AND TREMBLIN'." 49 
 
 handle nothin' else. But in my jedgment a 
 good deal of injury has been done by not 
 knowin' what God reely said. Ain't that so, 
 parson? " 
 
 " On general principles," answered John Jes- 
 sig, " Brother Golf is right ; but I don't quite 
 see the drift of the argument. Perhaps Brother 
 Kinch will explain himself a little further." 
 
 " Accordin' to my mind," responded the far- 
 mer, " no man can't be happy if he's got a ' fear 
 and tremblin' ' job on his hands." 
 
 Hiram bowed his head approvingly. 
 
 "Salvation," continued Kinch, "is jest that 
 sort of thing, and you can't get away from it. 
 We've got to be saved, and it ain't easy. Relig- 
 ion is dreadful serious, because gettin' to heaven 
 has a good many uncertainties connected with 
 it." 
 
 " But let us get right down to the main p'int," 
 suggested Hiram. " What is it that a man has 
 got to fear, and what is there that he must trem- 
 ble about?" 
 
50 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " Why, he ought to fear that after all he won't 
 get the salvation, of course. Isn't that what the 
 Bible says ? And how can he help tremblin' if 
 he has sot his heart on it, and knows that at any 
 minute it may slip away from him? No man 
 ain't safe until he's on the other side of Jordan, 
 and can't go the wrong way any more. Human 
 natur is such that you can't feel sure of heaven 
 until you get there. That's my doctrine, and 
 that's what St. Paul tells us." 
 
 Hiram hung his head. His attitude showed 
 that he was both grieved and puzzled. " Wall," 
 he said, in very sorrowful tones, " if Brother 
 Kinch is right, then I've traveled for forty year 
 on the wrong road. I'll have to throw away all 
 I've been gatherin' and begin over again. No 
 man ain't safe from condemnation until he's 
 dead! Is that what you said, brother?" 
 
 "That's jest it exactly," repeated Kinch, 
 rather doggedly. 
 
 " Can that be so ? " continued Hiram. " Isn't 
 a man safe when he's got the promise of God 
 
"FEARIN" AND TJiEMBLIN'." 51 
 
 in his heart? If God can't keep that promise 
 now, what reason have you to s'pose He can 
 keep it hereafter ? You see, all the underpinnin' 
 is kinder knocked from my faith, and it's likely 
 to tumble to pieces. I shouldn't like to have 
 any thin' of that kind happen to me." 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested John, " you agree with 
 Brother Kinch on the main point, and disagree 
 only about the proper definition of terms." 
 
 " No, I'm afraid it's a good deal deeper than 
 that," said Hiram, shaking his head, " a good 
 deal deeper. But let me put it in this way : If 
 I buy a horse of you. Farmer Kinch, and give 
 you my note for it, due in ninety days, you will 
 naterally have some anxiety about your money. 
 You keep your eyes on my business. I may be 
 willin' enough to pay, but perhaps I can't. It 
 ain't my willin'ness or unwilhn'ness that bothers 
 you, but my ability. If people tell you that I 
 have plenty of shoes to mend, so many that I 
 have to work by candle-light, then you feel rea- 
 sonably sure of gettin' your money when the 
 
52 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 time comes. But if you come round to my cot- 
 tage and see that worlc is slack, that I've thrown 
 my lapstone on the floor and am readin' a news- 
 paper or a book, then you look for'ard to the 
 collection of that debt with fear and tremblin'. 
 The payment of that money depends on contin- 
 gencies which I can't control, and I shouldn't 
 blame you if you was to shake your head and 
 say, ' I don't quite see how Hiram Golf is goin' 
 to meet that obligation.' Ain't that so? " 
 
 " Yes, it looks that way," and Kinch nodded 
 his head. " That's precisely where the fear and 
 tremblin' comes in." 
 
 " All right, and I hain't nothin' to say agin it, 
 neighbor Kinch. But in the matter of salvation 
 there ain't no Hiram Golf to deal with, but the 
 Lord God Himself. There ain't no contingencies 
 with Him. No unforeseen accident ever hap- 
 pens in the region of the Throne. When He 
 promises to do anythin'. He's goin' to keep the 
 promise, and if after He has give you the pledge 
 
"FEAHIN' AND TREMBLIN'." 53 
 
 and you have accepted it, if after that you go 
 round with the feeHn' that He can't meet His 
 obligations, why, you don't understand who 
 you're dealin' with, that's all. When God tells 
 me that He'll do somethin' for me by and by, 
 it's -jest as good as done, and I'm certain of it as 
 though I had it right here in my hand." 
 
 " You can't be sure of nothin' till you get it," 
 persisted Kinch. " It's a pretty loose sort of 
 religion, to my mind, that makes a man say he's 
 sure of goin' to heaven." 
 
 " And in my jedgment," responded Hiram, 
 " it's a pretty loose sort of religion which allows 
 a man to feel any doubt about it after he has 
 accepted Christ for his Saviour." 
 
 " Accordin' to you, Hiram," said Kinch, 
 " when you once get converted you ought to 
 believe the matter all closed up and settled. 
 That don't strike me as sense." 
 
 " It's not only sense, but revelation," cried 
 Hiram, whose eyes began to flash. " When I 
 
54 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 have a distinct promise of God, I should consider 
 myself worse than an infidel to stay awake a 
 minute thinkin' about it. There it is, and that's 
 the end of it. I've got it ; it's mine. Neither 
 principalities nor powers can rob me of it. 
 Thieves can't steal it, and if the house catches 
 fire and everythin' else is burned up, I've got 
 that promise." 
 
 " You are in a dangerous state of mind," said 
 the farmer. " I wouldn't swap my belief for 
 yours for the whole world to boot!" 
 
 " On the contrary, I'm in a very happy and 
 contented frame of mind, for, surrounded as we 
 all be with uncertainties, there are some things 
 I'm perfectly sure of. I go round singin' all 
 day. I shout ' Glory Hallelujah ! ' as I peg away 
 at them shoes. I feel as though I had suddenly 
 fallen heir to a big estate. I can't help tellin' 
 about my good fortune to every one who comes 
 into my little shop, and I can't help say in' that 
 there's plenty more left, and he can have all he 
 wants and be as happy as I am. I wish all the 
 
"FEARIN' AND TKEMBLIN'." 55 
 
 world had it, I wish everybody here in Wood- 
 bine had it, I wish you had it yourself, Brother 
 Kinch, for then we'd send up a great chorus of 
 praise every mornin'." 
 
 " Hm ! Yes," broke in Cynthia. " But, Hi- 
 ram, you seem to know a good deal more about 
 these things than St. Paul did. When a man 
 knows as much as that, I feel a little skittish 
 about follerin' him. It's a safe rule not to holler 
 till you're out of the woods, and you don't 
 get out of the woods into the clearin' till you 
 die." 
 
 Hiram gave a glance at John Jessig. The 
 little company was thoij)ughly roused, and the 
 minister especially seemed to enjoy the situation 
 immensely. 
 
 " Ain't I takin' up too much time ? " asked 
 Hiram, but John nodded, and the shoemaker 
 went on : 
 
 "The question ain't whether I know more'n 
 St. Paul did. I don't want you to think I'm 
 settin' myself before the Scripters. I love the 
 
56 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 Bible, and have read every word of it a great 
 many times. No, the question ain't whether I 
 know more'n the Apostle did, but whether I've 
 caught his meanin'. It's very unfort'nate when 
 we get a wrong meanin' out of the text, and 
 build a doctrine on it." 
 
 " Then," said Kinch, " do you mean that 
 after all you do fear and tremble about your 
 salvation?" 
 
 " Yes, jest that. I spend every day in fear 
 and tremblin', but — " 
 
 " Precisely," broke in Cynthia, with an air of 
 argumentative triumph. " Then you and we 
 agree." 
 
 " Not quite, I think," answered Hiram sol- 
 emnly. 
 
 " What do you fear. Brother Hiram, and at 
 what do you tremble? " asked John. 
 
 " Parson, I'm not afraid that God won't keep 
 His promise, and I'm not afraid that He can't 
 keep it, and I'm not afraid that I haven't got it 
 all safe in my heart. I want to make that plain 
 
"FEARIN' AND TREMBLIN'." 57 
 
 as possible. But I do fear that I can't be grate- 
 ful enough for what God has given me, and I 
 do tremble because He is so wonderful generous 
 that He is tryin' to pour a whole gallon of sal- 
 vation into my poor little teacup of a soul. I'm 
 afraid I can't hold it all. Just think of it ! He 
 will blot out all my sins, and accept Christ's 
 sacrifice in my behalf! He will give me a new 
 body when this one is worn out — and it's pretty 
 nigh that nowadays. He will take me to a 
 House where there won't be no more want, no 
 more sorrer, and no more grief! He holds me 
 up when I sink under the heavy burden, and by 
 and by He will brush death aside, give me a 
 share in the general resurrection, and allow me 
 to live with Him forever and forever. 
 
 " I call Him ' my Father,' but the word don't 
 begin to explain my feelin's. It's all beyond 
 me ; more, infinitely more, than I deserve. Can 
 I help singin' at such a prospect? Shall I go 
 about sighin' and groanin' under them circum- 
 stances? I tell you, parson, I can't do it, I 
 
58 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 can't do it. The thing that frightens me, and 
 it is the only thing, is that, do my best, I shall 
 still be only a little chiny cup to hold a whole 
 ocean of heaven." 
 
 At nine o'clock the meeting broke up. 
 
IV. 
 FEW DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 
 
 It was Blue Monday with John Jessig. In 
 the vocabulary of the sensitive clergyman these 
 are the two most appalling words. John had 
 slept restlessly the night before, and in his 
 troubled dreams a frightful hobgoblin had ap- 
 peared, holding in his hands a sermon of Sun- 
 day morning, and laughing contemptuously as 
 he shook it in the trembling parson's face. " Is 
 that the best you can do?" asked the spirit 
 derisively. " Were you educated through long 
 years and at great expense to produce such a 
 flimsy, sleepy apology of a sermon as that?" 
 
 Then the scene suddenly changed, and John 
 
 saw a little knot of his parishioners at the church 
 
 door indulging in criticisms under their breath, 
 
 which were far more candid than agreeable. 
 
 59 
 
6o HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 Their words were as indistinct as the far-away 
 echo of muttering thunder, but his heart sank 
 as he came down the aisle. 
 
 When he rose from unrestful slumber, it was 
 with the depressing conviction that he was 
 never intended for the pulpit, that the genius of 
 the preacher was wholly lacking, and that the 
 sooner he gave up his profession and made room 
 for a more acceptable pastor, the better for him- 
 self and for every one concerned. 
 
 I suppose all ministers have such dreams at 
 times, and take a lonely tramp through the val- 
 ley of humiliation on a Monday morning. It is 
 the one day of the week to be dreaded — an or- 
 deal for body and soul alike. If they can manage 
 to pull through the heavy hours till the stars 
 come out on Monday night, they can face the 
 other days with cheerful resignation ; but Mon- 
 day is the period of intellectual and spiritual re- 
 action, and its twelve hours are twelve taunting 
 ghouls. The bow has been bent until every- 
 thing is taut and ready to snap ; the brain has 
 
FEW DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 6 1 
 
 been in a whirl of excitement ; the heart has been 
 on fire, and the lassitude which follows is almost 
 hopeless in character. The minister finds him- 
 self in a state of partial collapse, is haunted by 
 the thought that he ought never to write another 
 sermon, that he has made the fatal mistake of a 
 lifetime, that he is like a fisherman whose net is 
 full of great rents through which the fish escape, 
 that he is bungling the work of the Lord, and 
 is unworthy of the commission he has received. 
 Mary Jessig was a, true helpmeet. She knew 
 that John's suffering was the consequence of 
 overwrought nerves, and that a brisk walk in 
 the country air would set him right again. She 
 had prepared an appetizing breakfast, and while 
 the good man at the other side of the table was 
 buttering a roll, and looking downcast and weary, 
 cautiously and tactfully suggested that the ser- 
 mon was a good deal better than he thought it. 
 She had overheard Deacon Eastwind, who was 
 by no means given to flattery — John must ad- 
 mit that — say to his neighbor that it was worth 
 
62 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION: 
 
 tackling up his horse and driving ten miles to 
 hear. Such a wife is a friend in need, and as 
 John was hungry for some sort of commendation 
 he looked relieved and faintly smiled. 
 
 Nobody knows or can know how much a word 
 of good cheer is worth to the man who occupies 
 the pulpit. He is always distrustful of himself, 
 and seldom sees whether the Gospel shots he is 
 firing hit the mark or not. Unless the people 
 who stand near the target, or, better still, the 
 people who are themselves the target, tell him 
 that his marksmanship is good, how can he find 
 it out? Nothing so wrenches a minister's emo- 
 tions as to see the congregation, which has 
 perhaps listened respectfully to his words, file 
 silently out of church with the apparent inten- 
 tion of avoiding the preacher because they don't 
 want to hurt his feelings by expressing their real 
 opinions. Its effect on the clerical mind is like 
 that of an extinguisher on a candle. 
 
 If the people would take some pains to recog- 
 nize the work of their pastor, would linger long 
 
J^£tV DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 63 
 
 enough to take him by the hand in friendly 
 greeting, they would thereby insure more effect- 
 ive sermons; for, after all, the preacher must 
 not only minister to his congregation, but be 
 ministered to by them. Good preaching is al- 
 ways an act of reciprocity. It consists of giving 
 the people the food which they have shown a 
 desire for. " I like what you said," remarks 
 some poor soul that is wandering in darkness, 
 and at once the minister puts another loaf of the 
 same kind into the oven. If the people's at- 
 titude, instead of being indifferent, is one of 
 friendly interest, the pastor catches the magnetic 
 influence, and is borne upward as on the wings 
 of an eagle. He outdoes himself in teaching 
 when they outdo themselves in listening. 
 
 I used to tell my own people when they 
 chanced to praise my sermon, that they preached 
 it, not I. No man can help being eloquent, in 
 its best sense, when the people's hearts as well 
 as their ears are open. If he loves them, and 
 they love him, it is easy for all to love the Lord. 
 
64 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 There is nothing so suggestive to the speaker 
 as the upturned faces in the pews. Many and 
 many a time I have left my notes and followed 
 the mood of some man or woman, applying the 
 text to what was evidently his or her condition 
 of mind. In that way my own soul went out 
 in sympathy to that other soul, and we two 
 traveled in confidential company until the Dox- 
 ology was announced. I say, therefore, without 
 hesitation, that congregations are responsible for 
 the majority of poor sermons with which they 
 are afflicted. If the minister is apart from them 
 he becomes dull and perfunctory ; if they are a 
 part of the minister, and give him the stimulus 
 of a kind word, he becomes earnest, pointed, 
 and pungent. 
 
 John Jessig wandered into Hiram's little shop 
 on that Monday morning. The shoemaker had 
 heard him preach the day before, and would 
 doubtless have something to say. 
 
 " No, I can't talk with you now," said Hiram 
 cheerfully, " but I'll get through with this job 
 
FEIV DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 65 
 
 in half an hour. You see, parson," and he held 
 the shoe up for John to inspect, " that's a very- 
 bad rip, and the poor woman who wears that 
 shoe can't afford to buy another pair jest yet. 
 It's pretty close business with her to make two 
 ends meet. I shall find some way to patch the 
 thing up, but I've got to put my whole mind to 
 it. Now look here, parson, I'll tell you what 
 to do. Jest go over the way to Jane Jenks, and 
 have a chat with her. She's a right up-and- 
 down Christian, is that woman. She's got re- 
 ligion enough to do housework with, and look 
 after her children. It takes a good deal to do 
 that, parson," and he looked through the dingy 
 window to the cottage of his neighbor. " You 
 know what's happened, don't you?" 
 
 " No, Hiram, I do not. Is it anything seri- 
 ous?" 
 
 " Yes, I'm afeared so. Reuben got a bad 
 tumble last Friday, and they say two of his ribs 
 is broke. I reckon you don't know how awfully 
 poor they are, but you ought to. Reuben has 
 
66 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 had a run of bad luck lately, and his faith is 
 mightily shaken by it. I guess he's a good 
 deal like a drownin' man who can't see no help, 
 and don't know whether it'll pay to hold on to 
 the timber any longer. Jane was cryin' pretty 
 bad when I saw her yesterday afternoon, but 
 the, basket of potatoes and the piece of pork 
 cheered her up considerable. They hain't got 
 any too much in the larder, and if we are reely 
 children of one family, the sooner we stand by 
 them folks the better. Now excuse me, parson, 
 for this shoe is the tormentinest puzzle I've had 
 in a long while. Come back in half an hour, 
 for I've got somethin' partic'lar to say." 
 
 "About the sermon, Hiram? " 
 
 "Yes, about the sermon." 
 
 "You — you didn't quite agree with me 
 then?" 
 
 "You're mistook for once, parson. It was 
 a grand sermon, a noble and sustainin' sermon, 
 and I want you to preach another like it, only 
 
FEW DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 67 
 
 Stronger. That's the right nail, but you've got 
 to drive it home. There, don't keep me from 
 my work." 
 
 John's heart was in his mouth. He came 
 very near laughing as he crossed the road. His 
 spirits rose, his eyes brightened, and when he 
 knocked at the Jenks's cottage he was a boy 
 again. " Perhaps I am some good, after all," 
 he said to himself. 
 
 He was only a shoemaker who had talked to 
 the minister? No, it was a human soul that 
 cheerily greeted another soul, and that is a very 
 different matter. 
 
 John did not want to be flattered, only en- 
 couraged. Flattery is counterfeit coin, and no 
 true minister will tolerate it for an instant. 
 Kindly words, however, go a great way, and the 
 average clergyman gets altogether too few of 
 them. 
 
 " Now then, parson," said Hiram when the 
 minister reappeared, " I've finished that bit of 
 
68 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 work, and am at your service. You were quite 
 right in askin' if I wanted to talk about that 
 sermon. I'm glad of the chance to do it." 
 
 John was gratified, and full of pleasant ex- 
 pectancy. 
 
 " Let me see," said Hiram, " you was telHn' 
 about duties and privileges. I came near shout- 
 in', parson, when you said that — how did you 
 put it ? — that our privileges as Christians is 
 about ten times as many as our duties. Didn't 
 you say that, or pretty nigh that? " 
 
 John nodded. 
 
 " Good. You pulled the right bell-rope that 
 time. There's lots of people, parson, and good 
 people too, who are everlastin'Iy talkin' about 
 duty, duty, duty. I'm tired of the subject. If 
 you can once fill a man's heart with love, the 
 duties disappear. He hain't got nothin' left but 
 privileges." 
 
 " You must be careful not to overstate that 
 matter, Hiram," suggested John. " There are 
 duties, plenty of them." 
 
FEW DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 69 
 
 " Name one, parson." 
 
 " Well, isn't it our duty to love our neighbor 
 as ourself ? " 
 
 "No, parson, it ain't; not by no means. I 
 can't possibly love my neighbor as myself if I 
 do it as a duty, because I don't love myself as 
 a duty, do I ? Duty and love is a badly matched 
 double team, and don't pull well together in 
 harness. They are like Peter Johnson's sorrel 
 and chestnut. The chestnut wants to prance 
 all the time, and the sorrel is sober and melan- 
 choly. They stand out aginst each other, and 
 neither can know what he can do best, because 
 the other interferes. The Christian ought to be 
 in sech a frame of mind that he will love his 
 neighbor jest as he loves his brother and sister, 
 and for the same reason, only it's a spiritual in- 
 stead of a blood relation. 
 
 " If I see a forlorn creeter who has waisted 
 his life, do I pity him as a matter of duty ? Oh 
 no. I couldn't do anythin' else- but pity him. 
 It's the natur of a soul that's born again. I know 
 
•JO HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 God pities him, and I can't help doin' the same. 
 I'm sorry he's gone astray, and am sure he isn't 
 havin' a good time. He's got hold of life at the 
 wrong end. 'Tain't for me to say what drove 
 him to the bad, but since he's there, my heart 
 goes out to him. I'm right in the midst of a 
 whole lot of privileges when I feel that way. I 
 think to myself, ' How good God must be to 
 care for that ragged and unwashed soul ! What 
 a blessed thing it is that He asks me to jine in 
 with Him in the work, and do what I can to lift 
 that man out of the mire ! God and me in part- 
 nership for the redemption of mankind ! ' Why, 
 sech a thought is a revelation ! Seems as though 
 I had been introduced to the angelic host, and 
 they was sayin', ' Hiram, here's a bad job, but 
 the man's worth savin', and perhaps if you help 
 us we'll get him on solid ground.' Isn't that 
 wonderful? I tell you, parson, it ain't no mere 
 duty to do a day's work of that kind, with the 
 Lord God on your right hand ; it's one of the 
 transfigurin' privileges of life." 
 
FEW DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 7 1 
 
 " Let me remind you, Hiram, that I referred 
 to that matter in my sermon. I said that to love 
 God is not to be classed among our duties." 
 
 " Yes, and my heart warmed to you, parson. 
 That song ought to be sung on the hill-tops. 
 A man must be a wretched sort of creeter whose 
 love for his own Father is an act of duty. 
 'Twasn't so with Christ, and it ought not to be 
 so with us. When I gave Jack the errand-boy 
 a slice of frosted cake the other day — it was 
 Marthy's baking — you should have seen his 
 face. He hadn't had no sech piece of cake for 
 a month, perhaps. He just glowed with happi- 
 ness. Was it from any poor, little, miserable 
 sense of duty that he looked up at me and said, 
 ' Thank you, Mr. Golf ' ? No more'n it was a 
 sense of duty that made him enjoy eatin' it. 
 He ate it because he liked it, and that ' thank- 
 you ' tumbled from his lips as naterally as the 
 rain falls. 
 
 " Now then, I am indebted to God for all I 
 have here, and for all I expect in the hereafter. 
 
72 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 He must give me these things, or I shall never 
 get 'em. No money can buy 'em, and if it 
 could, I haven't got the money. So there I 
 am. He sent His Son to teach me how to live 
 and tell me how to die. He is with me when 
 it's dark and the stars are all shut out, and then, 
 havin' allowed me to be in His company for 
 fifty year, tells me He wants me to live with 
 Him forever. After that, and with therti facts 
 starin' me in the .face, do you ask me to love 
 and trust Him from a sense of duty? Am I 
 worse than the errand-boy, that I can't say 
 ' thank you ' right out of my heart ? Why, 
 parson, it would be an insult to my soul to 
 preach sech a doctrine to me. I brush duty 
 aside, as havin' nothin' to do with the matter, 
 and count it a mighty privilege to go through 
 life with my poor tremblin' hand in His." 
 
 John looked at the shoemaker with an ap- 
 proving glance, and he went on : 
 
 " Now, there's my Marthy — she's layin' the 
 table for dinner. That dear woman has cheered 
 
FEW DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES. 73 
 
 and blessed my life. Jest see that face, parson ! 
 It's old and it's wrinkled; but she's always 
 young and beautiful to me. Now then, parson, 
 the man who has sech a wife as that — well, 
 there ain't no use talkin', for words can't tell the 
 story. She's gone uphill and downhill with me 
 since I was twenty-three year old, and we've 
 had to travel over some ruther rugged ground. 
 Does any one say that my lovin' Marthy is a 
 duty? Nonsense! I won't listen to it. Is it 
 my duty — most intolerable word! — to sacri- 
 fice my comfort for her when she's sick, and 
 spend whole nights watchin' at her side and 
 prayin' that she will get well ? Duty, parson ? 
 I can't help it. It's my greatest pleasure, and 
 I couldn't drag myself away at such a time. It 
 ain't no hardship to go hungry or to get tired 
 for her sake, if I can only see the light returnin' 
 to them eyes, and the smile comin' back after 
 days of sufferin'. 
 
 " To my mind, religion is jest like the sun- 
 shine that ripens the corn. A man can find all 
 
74 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION: 
 
 he wants in religion, and he can't find it no- 
 where else. 
 
 " But see! Marthy is callin' us, and.the din- 
 ner is ready. We haven't much to offer, but if 
 your appetite is whetted by this keen air we'll 
 enjoy what there is. Parson, will you ask a 
 blessin' ? " 
 
V. 
 
 IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 
 
 After a rather lugubrious " Good-evenin', 
 Marthy Golf," Cynthia Griffin laid her sun- 
 bonnet on the table and sat down with an air 
 of general weariness. She had pretty nearly 
 everything that is absolutely necessary to human 
 happiness, but seemed to think it a duty to be 
 miserable. Tom, her husband, was a good- 
 natured fellow, who did not go to church as often 
 as he should, partly, I fear, because his anxious 
 wife constantly reminded him that he and she 
 and all the rest of mankind had nothing to fear 
 so much as the terrors of the Lord. He un- 
 consciously reasoned with himself that if there 
 was no hope for the future he might as well 
 have as good a time as possible in the present 
 life. A well-to-do workman, with two dollars 
 7S 
 
76 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 a day, he had a cozy little house of his own, 
 a small mortgage on it of four hundred dollars, 
 and a couple of- children who chirped when he 
 came home like a couple of young thrushes. 
 
 Cynthia had a saturnine temperament. That 
 was not her fault, but it was certainly a great 
 misfortune. She had a fixed habit of always 
 looking for and dwelling on the dark side — was 
 one of that class of Christians who make their 
 religion as disagreeable and discouraging- as 
 possible, the class who prefer a drizzling rain to 
 sunshine. If you said to her, " Cynthia, it's a 
 lovely day," she would instantly reply, "Yes, 
 but it's brewin' a storm." She never quite man- 
 aged to get the feeling into her heart that God 
 is our Father ; she was afraid of Him, and lived 
 in constant expectation of some calamity. The 
 Lord's Prayer did not convey any idea to her 
 mind, but some of the Psalms of David stimu- 
 lated her imagination and at the same time 
 depressed her. Her faith, if the word can 
 be properly used in such cases, was of the 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? "]•] 
 
 somber sort, which tends to make the conscien- 
 tious timid and heavy-hearted, and all others 
 indifferent. 
 
 She had so often reminded Tom that life is 
 nothing but a vale of tears, that he went alto- 
 gether too frequently to the corner saloon to 
 drown his grief over the fact. He would regard 
 it as presumption to contradict her, for was not 
 she a member of the church, while he was a 
 brand not yet plucked from the burning? He 
 had long ago begun to feel that religion and 
 personal discomfort are as closely allied as cause 
 and effect. He was willing to admit that relig- 
 ion is absolutely necessary, but regarded it as 
 something to be postponed to old age, when 
 the tombstones in the churchyard become un- 
 pleasantly suggestive. 
 
 When Cynthia had ensconced herself in an 
 arm-chair, Martha placed by her side a glass of 
 fresh milk and some crullers. She enjoyed the 
 little collation, and munched the crullers with a 
 keen appetite, but could not quite repress the 
 
78 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 feeling that enjoyment of any kind was to some 
 extent sinful. She managed, however, to dis- 
 pose of both crullers and milk, and then took 
 out her knitting with the air of one who has 
 committed a misdeed, and after a long-drawn 
 sigh made her usual remark about the vale of 
 tears. 
 
 Hiram had taken in the scene from his shoe- 
 maker's bench, and seemed to enjoy it. He 
 chuckled to himself as he drove in the next half 
 dozen pegs, but could not help saying : 
 
 " Cynthy, was that milk sour? " 
 
 " Why, Hiram, it was jest as sweet as could 
 be," was the reply. 
 
 " And was the crullers to your taste, Cynthy ? 
 I hope Marthy hasn't been passin' off any of 
 day-before-yesterday's crullers on a neighbor." 
 
 ''They was jest splendid, Hiram. Cooked 
 this mornin', wasn't they, Marthy?" 
 
 The housewife nodded, and her mouth 
 twitched quizzically, for she was accustomed to 
 Hiram's peculiarities. 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 79 
 
 "Got the dyspepsy, Cynthy?" persisted 
 Hiram. 
 
 " Not as I know of; why, Hiram? " 
 
 " 'Cos the minute you swallered them things 
 they seemed to disagree with you, and you said 
 that eatin' crullers and drinkin' sweet milk was 
 a vale of tears." 
 
 " No, Hiram Golf, I didn't mean that, and 
 you know I didn't ; but I think it's always well 
 to keep in mind that the enjoyments of this life 
 is jest vanity of vanities, that's all." 
 
 " 'Tain't so, Cynthy, 'tain't so. That senti- 
 ment ain't founded in fact, and it ain't author- 
 ized by the Lord. There's no use to put on a 
 pair of blue spectacles to look at the gifts of 
 God with." 
 
 The poor woman was startled, and came very 
 near dropping a stitch. 
 
 " When I hear you talkin' in that way, Cyn- 
 thy," resumed Hiram, " I wonder if some fatal 
 accident has happened to the Holy Spirit that 
 I don't know nothin' about. A vale of tears? 
 
8o HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 Wall, yes, it is to some people, but to the soul 
 that is in Christ, and feels as safe as your baby 
 does when it is in your arms, the world is so 
 full of beauty and gladness that we can't see no 
 end to 'em. 
 
 " Now, Cynthy," and Hiram took up another 
 shoe and examined it carefully, " you think too 
 much about your poor miserable self, and too 
 little about God. I've knowed you for a long 
 ten year, and nobody can say but you're a good 
 woman and a good mother. Why are you 
 always afraid that somethin' will happen to God 
 so He can't do what He says He will? That's 
 what ails you, and it's jest as much a disease as 
 the mumps, and it's about as painful." 
 
 At that moment, under cover of the darkness, 
 a forlorn, haggard-looking tramp came up the 
 steps, hat in hand. He was a woe-begone creat- 
 ure, young in years, old in experience, and his 
 glance was furtive, like that of a hunted animal 
 who expected the dogs to pounce upon him at 
 any moment. 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 8 1 
 
 " Mister, will you give m,e something to eat ? " 
 he half whispered. " I'm dreadful hungry." 
 
 " Wall, my boy," said Hiram, after surveying 
 him for a moment, " you do look as though you'd 
 had a rough time. Here, sit down. Hungry, 
 be ye? Come, Marthy, bustle round and get 
 a slice of that cold ham we had for dinner" — 
 the tramp's eyes opened wide — "and bring 
 a nice bowl of bread-and-milk." The tramp 
 apparently thought he had suddenly entered a 
 suburb of Paradise. 
 
 He was really half famished, and bolted the 
 food with the feeling that the plate, and the 
 ham, and Hiram, and the wife might disappear 
 at any instant, and leave him in the wilderness 
 from which he had just emerged. 
 
 The shoemaker sat looking at him. What 
 was there about this forlorn wretch which re- 
 called a robbery that had been committed two 
 days before in Green Meadow? Was it that 
 the tramp was all ablaze with the crime, and 
 a sensitive nature like Hiram's could smell the 
 
82 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 smoke thereof ? The transmission of thought is 
 a mystery, but also a fact. Hiram was impressed 
 with tliat idea, and a great pity filled his heart. 
 " Perhaps," he thought, " that younglin' has a 
 mother who is at this very minute lookin' out of 
 the winder and wonderin' where her boy is 
 wanderin' ; or perhaps there is a father who 
 would give all he owns to save his wayward 
 child." Hiram's eyes became moist. 
 
 " That was a sad affair at Green Meadow on 
 Tuesday, wasn't it?" he remarked casually. 
 
 The tramp dropped the piece of bread he held 
 in his hand, and stared at the speaker. The 
 bullet had hit the mark, and you could hear the 
 impact as it struck. 
 
 " Yes, you must know about it," he con- 
 tinued. " It's the talk of all the country round. 
 He broke into a house, they say, and carried off 
 some money which the poor farmer had laid up 
 for a rainy day. But that money won't do the 
 robber no good. It'll burn a hole in his pockets, 
 I reckon." 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 83 
 
 The tramp's eyes turned restlessly from one 
 person to another. " Do they know what I 
 know?" he seemed to be saying to himself. 
 " Will they inform on me ? The old man's a 
 cripple, and I could master him easily enough. 
 But if these two women should scream! The 
 woods are a mile and a half away, and I should 
 have to run for it." He looked at Martha and 
 at Cynthia with a quick, inquiring glance. His 
 appetite was gone. Another mouthful of that 
 ham would have choked him. Did he tremble 
 with cold ? No, the evening was warm, and the 
 wind was from the south. Then his chest 
 heaved and his lips quivered, and he could 
 hardly contain himself. An expression of agony 
 stole over his face, and he moved restlessly in 
 the chair. 
 
 " I'm sorry forthat young man," said Hiram. 
 " I ruther guess he must have had a great temp- 
 tation, and couldn't resist it. It's so much 
 better, though, to be honest. Money that's 
 earned is all right; money that's stolen ain't no 
 
84 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 good. Then, maybe, the robber was hungry, 
 jest as you are. The world had gone terrible 
 hard with him — who knows ? Perhaps he tried 
 to get work and failed. Now he'll be caught 
 and go to jail, and the old home with the father 
 and mother in it — " 
 
 That seemed to be too much for the tramp. 
 He reached down, got his fingers on his slouch 
 hat, sprang like a frightened doe from the veran- 
 da, and disappeared in the darkness. Hiram's 
 specters were giving himi chase. The chair was 
 empty, the food was only half eaten, and a groan 
 filled the air. 
 
 Hiram said sadly, " I wasn't mistook." Then 
 he turned to Cynthia, who had noticed the pro- 
 ceedings with something like terror, and re- 
 marked, " Cynthy, you are quite right: under 
 certain circumstances this life is a vale of tears, 
 and it can't be made nothin' else. I reckon it's 
 about that to the poor feller who couldn't stop 
 to eat his vittles. But is it God's fault, Cynthy, 
 or is it his own ? Did God make it a vale of 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 85 
 
 tears, or is it the devil's work? Tiiat's what I 
 want to know. It's sin in the heart that makes 
 life a failure. There ain't no stars in the sky 
 for that tramp; it's a thunderin' and light'nin' 
 all the time. I shouldn't blame him one bit if 
 he was to sigh, jest as you do, and talk about 
 the terrors of the Lord. He'll find 'em all out 
 before he gets through. 'Tain't in natur that 
 he should sleep easy. He's travelin' a boggy 
 road, and will bring up with a broken axle after 
 a while. But what business have you, with a 
 house, a husband and children, and trust in the 
 Lord, what business have you to go whimperin' 
 along as though you was out in a drivin' rain 
 without no umbrella, and no hope of reachin' a 
 shelter?" 
 
 Fifteen minutes later John Jessig joined the 
 little company. 
 
 " I'm not making visits at this time of night, 
 Hiram," he said, "but I heard your cheery 
 voice as I was passing, and concluded to stop in 
 for a bit. What a beautiful night it is ! One 
 
86 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 of the nights when the ' heavens declare the 
 glory of God and the firmament showeth His 
 handiwork.' I think I never saw so many stars 
 before. They are at a mass meeting, I imagine, 
 and there's hardly room for them all." 
 
 "Yes, I've been watchin' 'em," responded 
 Hiram. " It's one of them nights when a man 
 can't hold himself in. He feels so small and in- 
 significant, and he wants to say so much that he 
 hain't got words to express. It reminds me of 
 the time when Zadok anointed Solomon king, 
 and when ' the people piped with pipes, and re- 
 joiced with great joy, so that the earth rent with 
 the sound of them.' I tell you, parson, I'd like 
 to be at that meetin' of the stars up yonder, for 
 I'm chock full of rejoicin'. I'm thankful for 
 pretty near everythin', includin' my rheumatism. 
 I don't see how folks can grumble at the Lord 
 on such a night as this. It makes such a grand 
 picter of where we're goin' to be." 
 
 " Religion," said John, " is certainly intended 
 to make us contented with our lot." 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 87 
 
 "That's jest what I've been telHn' Cynthy 
 hare. When a n:ian's religion don't make him 
 cheerful, he's got hold of the wrong bottle. 
 He'd better break it, and get another one." 
 
 "Wall, it seems to me, Hiram," broke in 
 Cynthia, " that you haven't sech a great sight 
 to boast about. You're only a poor man any- 
 how, and — " 
 
 " A poor man, am I ? I tell you, Cynthy 
 Griffin, I'm one of the richest men in the world." 
 
 " Oh, you be, Hiram ! I didn't know it, and 
 I guess there's lots of other folks that don't know 
 it too." There was something contemptuous in 
 her tones. 
 
 " Yes, indeed I'm rich. Look at the sky up 
 there! Ain't that mine? Don't I have the 
 use of it while I live? " 
 
 " Maybe, Hiram, but I shouldn't say I owned 
 it unless I had a better title than you have." 
 
 " No, I don't exactly own it, but then my 
 Father owns it, and what my Father owns I 
 have a right to enjoy." 
 
88 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 Cynthia began to knit very vigorously. After 
 rocking back and forth with some violence, she 
 tossed her head in the air, and remarked, " Seems 
 to me that- you're talkin' nonsense, Hiram." 
 Then she looked with a side glance at John for 
 corroboration. 
 
 "And I own the Cheroquee," continued 
 Hiram, " and can fill myself full of the scenery 
 along its banks all the year round ; and I own 
 the whole range of hills over yonder that the 
 sun creeps behind every afternoon. I watch the 
 crimson glory of God siftin' though the trees, 
 and lift my eyes to the clouds that drop down 
 the west like a veil over the face of a bride, and 
 can't hardly contain myself. ' The earth and 
 the fullness thereof ' is a part of my inheritance. 
 No matter how many dollars I might have, I 
 couldn't buy as much scenery as I own now as 
 a free gift." 
 
 The minister nodded approval. He ' never 
 interrupted the shoemaker when he was in such 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 89 
 
 a mood as this. On the contrary, he felt that 
 the pupil was teaching the teacher, and was 
 gratefully silent. 
 
 " Besides all that," said Hiram, aglow with 
 his own thoughts, and speaking with the elo- 
 quence of one of Israel's prophets, " I've got 
 this little home, and a grown-up boy who is 
 doin' well out in Montana, and all the work I 
 can do, and all the clothes I want to wear — two 
 whole suits for every day and an extra nice one 
 for Sundays — and all the vittles I can eat. I 
 ain't never too hot in summer, for there's always 
 a breeze comin' across the river, jest like now; 
 and I ain't cold in winter, because I can crawl 
 up close to the stove. Now what more can any 
 reasonable man ask for? " 
 
 " I'd like to try my hand at askin'," sneered 
 Cynthia, " if there was any use in it, but I s'pose 
 there ain't." 
 
 " Them is only the beginnin' of my posses- 
 sions," continued Hiram, without heeding. 
 
90 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " Oh, there's more, is there?" and Cynthia 
 shrugged her shoulders. " More of the same 
 sort, I reckon." 
 
 " In the last will and testament of my 
 Saviour," said Hiram, " I'm made legal heir to 
 the immortal life. That dockiment is very val- 
 lible to me. ' In My Father's house,' He says, 
 ' are many mansions. I go to prepare a place 
 for you.' So I've got a place here, and a place 
 there; a house on the earth, and a home in 
 heaven. This great gift is deeded to me, and 
 guaranteed. The title to it can't be disputed in 
 no court." 
 
 " I should say you was one of them vision- 
 aries," curtly broke in Cynthia. 
 
 " If I get down-hearted, a Voice says, ' Let 
 not your heart be troubled.' I listen, and listen, 
 and listen, and by and by it says again, ' I will 
 be with you alway, even to the end of the world.' 
 God and me ! Can you reckon up how much 
 that is worth ? 
 
 " Now then, parson, I ask you this plain 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 91 
 
 question: Ain't religion sometimes like magic? 
 It does the impossible, and it gives us the one 
 thing we want more than anythin' else. There's 
 so much to it that once in a while I'm afraid I'll 
 wake up and find I've been dreamin'. And 
 when I do wake up, it's bigger, and broader, 
 and higher, and more glorious than ever. I be- 
 gin to laugh when I begin to cry, for it turns all 
 my groanin' into praise. Jest think of it! All 
 these things actually belong to me, and nobody 
 can't dispossess me. They belong to jest me, 
 Hiram Golf, shoemaker by the grace of God, 
 and at present livin' in the little manufacturin' 
 village of Woodbine, with heaven in full view 
 from my cottage winder." 
 
 The spell of Hiram's voice, and the profound 
 earnestness with which he spoke, charmed even 
 Cynthia into silence, while the parson's eyes 
 and heart were both full. 
 
 " Why," cried Hiram, " I've got so much 
 ahead of me that I'm almost dizzy with grati- 
 tude! It is so wonderful, so unexpected, so 
 
92 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 undeserved! Don't you think I can walk a 
 little while on this poor crutch, when I look for- 
 ward to a new body, a new life, renewed youth, 
 and the splendor of God, which no eye can 
 bear? Shall I grumble at the smalt inconven- 
 iences of this present time ? No, parson ; no, 
 Cynthy ! With every peg I drive into a shoe I 
 cry, ' Glory, glory ! ' When I close my tired 
 eyes at night, I say to myself, ' The journey is 
 nearin' its end, and then — ah, then ! ' 
 
 "That's what I call religion. I've got only a 
 taste of it on the tip of my tongue ; but what 
 will it be when I drink it as the thirsty traveler 
 drinks from the bucket at the well ? I only see 
 a corner of the battlements ; but how shall I 
 feel when I ' hold thern in full survey ' ? " 
 
 Then, as though he could bear it no longer, 
 or as though language had failed to express his 
 thoughts, he caught up his crutch, and, beating 
 time with it, broke into song. The hymn was 
 a familiar one, and at the third line John joined 
 him. At the second verse even Cynthia caught 
 
IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 93 
 
 the glorious infection, and her thin and piping 
 voice was added. 
 
 It was a revelation. " Out of the mouths of 
 babes and sucklings,"' you would have said if 
 you had passed" by at that moment. Religion ! 
 It is the gift of gifts, the legerdemain of life. It 
 doubles our joys, and lightens our burdens. The 
 secret of all happiness is in its hands. The low- 
 liest life is made radiant by it, for under its be- 
 nign influence poverty forgets itself and drudg- 
 ery becomes endurable. 
 
 As John went home that night he felt that he 
 had been in goodly company, and that the min- 
 istry of the Gospel is the grandest work in which 
 the mind and heart of man can engage. 
 
VI. 
 "A LITTLE MAN SAVIN' SOULS." 
 
 There is a providence in all the incidents of 
 human life. Unseen hands lead us, and invisi- 
 ble eyes watch for an opportunity to afTord the 
 assistance we need. No man works alone. His 
 apparent solitude is peopled with a delegation 
 from the angelic host, who stand ready to lift 
 him up when he stumbles, and direct him when 
 he is confused. Sometimes a casual word ut- 
 tered by a stranger or a neighbor is the golden 
 key to unlock the problem that has puzzled 
 us, or it may be a look, or a smile, or a tear. 
 Chance ? Coincidence ? No, it is God's guard- 
 ian care. He who notes the sparrow's fall is 
 not unmindful of a pain in our hearts or a doubt 
 in our minds. 
 
 John Jessig had received a call, and his little 
 94 
 
"A LITTLE MAN SAVIN' SOULS." 95 
 
 household was filled with excitement. The call 
 was a very flattering incident, and neither John 
 nor any one else, in the pulpit or out of it, can be 
 wholly indifferent to a matter of that kind. He 
 pondered deeply, took a long walk across the 
 fields, telling this great secret over and over 
 again to his soul, while his face glowed with ap- 
 preciation of the compliment implied, then stood 
 for a full hour on the bridge which spans the 
 Cheroquee, thinking, thinking, but reaching no 
 conclusion. 
 
 A more important parish, from a worldly point 
 of view, had expressed the unanimous desire to 
 obtain his services. He would have a much 
 larger salary, for the people in Woodbine were 
 poor, and he was sometimes pinched. Besides 
 this, he would have an opportunity to make 
 himself better known — a factor in the problem 
 which appealed to his personal ambition. Wood- 
 bine was in a corner, but the new church was on 
 a hill-top. 
 
 " Shouldn't a man make the most of himself? " 
 
96 HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION. 
 
 reasoned John. " Isn't it right, nay, isn't it a 
 duty, to preach the Gospel in a place where the 
 thunderous reverberations will be heard through- 
 out a wide area? " 
 
 But he hesitated. A thousand conflicting 
 emotions, some laudable and others not so praise- 
 worthy, chased each other through his mind. 
 A solemn question had fallen to his lot, and its 
 solution could not be long delayed. The com- 
 mittee who had visited him had quoted the pas- 
 sage about hiding one's light under a bushel, 
 had intimated that a much less gifted man would 
 serve the purpose in Woodbine, had candidly 
 declared that the new parish would open up a 
 very much larger field, and that he had been ac- 
 counted just the man to do brave work there. 
 
 If his pulse ran up into the nineties, need we 
 wonder? There is a good deal to be said on 
 both sides of such a subject, and John may be 
 excused if he walked up and down that rickety 
 bridge looking for light. At last, in utter con- 
 fusion of heart, he sauntered along the narrow 
 
'•A LITTLE MAN SAVIN' SOULS." 97 
 
 street leading to the village, knocked at Hiram's 
 door, was warmly welcomed as usual, and took 
 a seat in the dingy shop. 
 
 " Parson," began Hiram, " there is too many 
 Christians who are anxious to do somethin' great 
 for God, and too few who are willin' to do some- 
 thin' little." 
 
 That was a strange chord to strike at such a 
 time, and John simply looked the interrogation 
 he could not utter. 
 
 "Yes," continued Hiram, as he drove the 
 pegs with unwonted rapidity, " the hardest work 
 a man ever does is to glorify the little things of 
 life." 
 
 John became thoughtful. " You have hold 
 of a mighty puzzle, Hiram," he said at length. 
 "A great enterprise evolves great courage and 
 makes great deeds possible, but I sometimes 
 think that a man is just as acceptable to God if 
 he is contented with a narrow lot and fills it full 
 of the riches of Christ." 
 
 " Parson," said Hiram, laying his hammer on 
 
98 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 his lap and looking at John with an earnest gaze, 
 " if you could make the people believe that, 
 you'd fetch the millennium along in about two 
 weeks. They can't see it, though — not yet." 
 
 " If I wanted to organize a band of mission- 
 aries," John continued, " to go to some distant 
 spot on the earth where they would encounter 
 untold dangers, and possibly give their lives for 
 the cause, I could — " 
 
 " Wall," broke in Hiram, " you could recruit 
 a large number within a stone's-throw of my 
 workbench." 
 
 " I think I know at least a dozen devoted 
 people who would be glad of the opportunity." 
 
 " That's so, parson. But if you want 'em to 
 check their tempers for God's sake, and wash 
 the dishes with salvation in view, they would 
 toss their heads in the air. Human natur is 
 laborin' under a great mistake. Men and women 
 is willin' to die for the Lord, but somehow 
 they're not ready to hve for Him. You can get 
 folks enough to risk everythin' for the Lord 
 
"A LITTLE MAN SAVIN' SOULS." 99 
 
 under extraordinary circumstances who can't 
 make up their minds to live for Him under cir- 
 cumstances that is only ordinary. In my jedg- 
 ment, the best test of man's conversion is found 
 in the way he handles the drudgery of every 
 day. If he can stand up aginst that and hold 
 his own, he can stand up aginst any thin' that's 
 likely to come. • 
 
 " Now then, take my shoemakin' for an 
 example. ' 'Tain't much,' says the world. 
 ' Hiram Golf don't amount to nothin' anyway.' 
 But if I do it with the feelin' that God is sayin' 
 to me, ' Hiram, I have sot you to makin' shoes, 
 and I want you to make 'em good ; don't put 
 no paper in the soles, for the sake of a little 
 extra profit; and see that your uppers is well 
 tanned — do that, and I'll see that you get to 
 heaven,' if I work with that in mind, ain't I a 
 pretty good-sized man in the sight of the angels ? 
 
 " Every time I pull a thread I want to say to 
 myself, ' There ! that stitch will hold ; I've put 
 my religion into it.' And every time I drive a 
 
lOO HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 peg I try to drive it home so it'll stay in place. 
 I want to feel that I can look at the man who 
 wears them shoes without makin' no excuses 
 for myself. The sole and the upper must be 
 jined together like a man and wife in marriage, 
 and a divorce in muddy weather is entirely out 
 of the question." 
 
 " I see what you mean, Hiram," said John, 
 " and I entirely agree with you. It is more im- 
 portant to do little things well than to waste 
 time in hunting for some great thing that can't 
 be found." 
 
 " Yes, parson, and more reel religion in bakin' 
 a loaf of sweet bread than in goin' to a church 
 meetin' and lettin' the bread get sour. The 
 Christianity of a clean, wholesome, and well- 
 regulated home is of more consequence than 
 most folks thinks. The general notion is that 
 religion is up in the air, among the clouds, but 
 I don't believe it, and I don't read my Bible 
 that way. My kind of religion don't scuttle out 
 of sight at sundown on Sunday evenin', come 
 
••A LITTLE MAN SAVIN' SOULS." lOI 
 
 back again for an hour or two to the Wednes- 
 day prayer-meetin', and then disappear until the 
 church-bells ring on the next Sunday mornin'. 
 All that is a delusion and a snare. No religion 
 is wuth havin' unless a man sticks to it in a 
 horse trade, or when he's paintin' a barn ; and 
 if a professor sands his sugar and waters his 
 milk, he's goin' to have a tough time when cer- 
 tain unfort'nate questions is asked by the Lord." 
 
 " I sometimes think," said John, as though 
 talking to himself — " I sometimes think that in 
 the Providence of God there is nothing small, 
 that everything is great." 
 
 " You're not fur off from the truth, parson. 
 Now, excuse me if I am personal ; I don't mean 
 no disrespect, and you won't feel offended. 
 Take yourself, for instance. You are a young 
 man, and you are preachin' in a little manufac- 
 turin' village that couldn't be seen on a map 
 without a microscope. In the eyes of the world 
 you ain't of no consequence whatever. Your 
 field is a narrer one, and although you're a 
 
I02 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 faithful pastor you haven't anythin' like fame. 
 Nobody beyond the hills ever heard of you, and 
 I don't care much whether they ever do hear 
 of you. 
 
 " You're a little man in a little place. But, 
 my dear son," the shoemaker's eyes glistened 
 with excitement, " you are savin' souls. You 
 worked over poor Bill Handy till you dragged 
 him away from his cups. You're the friend of 
 every workin'man in the mills ; you went to 
 the employers in the last strike, when things 
 was red-hot, and we was on the edge of a revo- 
 lution — persuaded them to make certain con- 
 cessions in the name of justice and fair play, 
 and ever since matters has gone on smooth 
 and proper. 
 
 " A little man in a little place, savin' souls ! 
 A little man in a little place, makin' things clean 
 and wholesome! People can't see us, we are 
 so hidden away. No matter. Who cares? 
 When you get to heaven, them eloquent min- 
 isters who have preached in large cities to 
 
"A LITTLE MAN SAVIN' SOULS." 103 
 
 big congregations will look at you and say, 
 'Hullo, little man, where do you hail from?' 
 They'll make your acquaintance for the fust 
 time, but my word for it, John Jessig, they'll be 
 glad to know you. 
 
 " When the Lord comes along and looks over 
 His Kingdom, do you think He's goin' to pay 
 special attention to them famous men and neg- 
 lect you ? He will say to them, ' Show me 
 what you've done down there in the city, where 
 you had a nice house, and a fine library, and all 
 the comforts of life ' ; and He'll say to you, 'John 
 Jessig, I put you down there by the Chero- 
 quee River, because there was work to be done 
 among those mill hands.' It won't do, par- 
 son, for them ministers to put on airs. They've 
 got to show results, and you've got to do the 
 same. 
 
 " A soul in New York ain't wuth no more 
 than a soul in Woodbine. A rich man's soul 
 ain't wuth no more than a shoemaker's soul, or 
 a blacksmith's soul. A soul is a soul, the world 
 
I04 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 over, and if you've saved one the Lord won't 
 ask whether it lived on the back street or up on 
 tlie avenue. 
 
 " There ain't nothin' small that God conde- 
 scends to look at. His lookin' at it makes it 
 great." 
 
 John became excited, and his hands trem- 
 bled. He thought he heard the voice of the 
 Lord in that conversation. He looked at Hi- 
 ram with indescribable tenderness. It is a 
 marvelous thing to see a man on fire, and the 
 shoemaker was all ablaze. He had uncon- 
 sciously reduced human motives to their last 
 analysis, had proven to himself and to John that 
 the small duties of life are important, and he 
 seemed to be filled with the divine fury of that 
 eloquence of which every earnest man is capa- 
 ble in supreme moments. 
 
 Then John shook Hiram's hand warmly, and 
 said, " Hiram, it is always great to live near to 
 God. One never feels small when heaven is 
 the price to be paid for his work. It makes no 
 difiference where a man is placed. If he gath- 
 
••A LITTLE MAN SAVIN' SOULS." loS 
 
 ers his golden sheaf of ripe grain, and carries it 
 to the Gate, he is sure of a welcome. What 
 more can he ask? 
 
 " I have sometimes grown despondent, situ- 
 ated as I am in this out-of-the-way village, but 
 you have cheered and helped me. It isn't the 
 size of the field we till, but the work we put 
 into it, that is important. A large soul makes 
 everything large. It is a great lesson to learn, 
 and I think I have learned it. The dear Lord 
 is here as well as elsewhere, and if we are in 
 His company what matters it that we are de- 
 prived of other things? I am willing to seem 
 small to men, if the Lord will not think me so. 
 Good-night, my dear brother." 
 
 When John reached home he said quietly, 
 " Mary, I've been thinking about that call." 
 
 "Yes, John?" 
 
 " And have concluded to stay here in Wood- 
 bine." 
 
 Mary put her arms about her husband's neck, 
 and said, " I'm glad of it, John. We've been 
 very happy here." 
 
VII. 
 
 FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. 
 
 No man can ever know how many friends he 
 has until he is either sick or dying. The ten- 
 der regard or the robust respect which may 
 exist throughout the community seems to keep 
 under cover, as though it were evidence of weak- 
 ness to show itself until something unexpected 
 or extraordinary happens, and then it suddenly 
 blossoms into manifestation with touching and 
 pathetic eagerness. While one is in health and 
 vigorously making himself felt by his fellow- 
 men, he is entirely unconscious that he is held 
 in such affection that no plummet can sound its 
 depth ; but when the unforeseen occurs, and he 
 drops out of the competitive struggle, it breaks 
 forth like sunshine on an April day. 
 
 Hiram Golf was a more important element of 
 1 06 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. 107 
 
 village life in Woodbine than either he or any- 
 one else dreamed. His value was discovered 
 only after his exit. . He passed most of his time 
 in quiet seclusion, and never intruded his coun- 
 sel. But on every public occasion he rose to 
 leadership by the force of social gravitation. 
 His strong common sense, his absolute fairness 
 of judgment, his lack of mere fanaticism, his 
 personal independence and the rather reckless 
 manner in which he asserted it, his boldness in 
 criticising both men and measures, made him a 
 marked man. No debate was concluded until 
 his voice had been heard, for he had a pungent 
 way of stating a case, and a forceful though 
 somewhat rude eloquence, which threw him to 
 the front in every, emergency. 
 
 Of course he had enemies. Opinions are not 
 worth much unless they kindle opposition, and 
 men who see things from circumference to 
 center, and tell their thoughts with perfect frank- 
 ness, are likely to be misunderstood. Some 
 called him a crank, and ventured to protest 
 
I08 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 against his freedom of speech. Others attrib- 
 uted to him, during the heat of discussion, 
 motives which he would have disdained to 
 cherish. 
 
 And of course he had friends, a multitude, 
 both in Woodbine and among the angelic host, 
 for he was a manly man, with a conscience as 
 well as a brain. The poor people adored him, 
 for his unobtrusive charity had stood them in 
 good stead in many a pinching hour of need. 
 Had he and they lived in the olden time and in 
 the suburbs of ancient Athens, they would have 
 regarded him as a blood relation of the gods on 
 high Olympus, for there was a dignity in his 
 utterance and a latent authority in his advice 
 which were like a hand of iron in a glove of 
 velvet. 
 
 It was generally conceded that, though some- 
 what eccentric, he was a man of ideas ; that he 
 was in deadly earnest both in his work and in 
 his religion ; and that he lived like one who was 
 engaged in the inspiring task of laying up treas- 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. 109 
 
 ures in heaven with the full belief that his 
 books would be carefully examined and his 
 future decided by the accountant's verdict. He 
 asked nothing except an honest laborer's wages 
 for the present life and a grass-plot in the grave- 
 yard when his toil was ended, looked every one 
 squarely in the face, and had nothing to conceal. 
 In other words, he was the happy possessor of 
 that omnipotent and magical something known 
 as character. 
 
 Hiram, the shoemaker, was one of God's 
 noblemen ; and when Death, with unwilling 
 footsteps, walked across that little veranda, on 
 which his victim had sat during so many sum- 
 mer evenings with a kindly word for every pass- 
 er-by, and knocked at the kitchen door, he 
 seemed sorry that he had to perform so unwel- 
 come a duty. Yes, Death felt that he had a 
 mournful task, and hesitated. 
 
 But. Hiram, as he lay on his couch, received 
 this strange visitor with the affable courtesy of 
 a Christian. He wanted to live a little longer, 
 
no HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 because, as he said to John Jessig, there were 
 some things which he would hke to attend to 
 personally. " But still," he added, with a lan- 
 guid smile, " if the Lord has made different ar- 
 rangements it's all right, and He will find some 
 one else to look after these matters." 
 
 When Jonas Crimp, a wood-cutter, blind of 
 one eye, with a wife and four "children depend- 
 ent upon him, called at the Golf cottage and in- 
 sisted upon seeing Hiram, because it might be the 
 last time, as he told Martha, the sufferer heard 
 his voice and cried, " Let him come in, wife." 
 
 The poor fellow brushed away a tear with his 
 rough and calloused hand as he said, " Hiram, 
 you made a man of me. I was gone in drink, 
 and the children was well-nigh starvin'. I felt 
 a coldness at my heart, for the world was on top 
 of me, holdin' me down, and I got desperate. 
 Never a kind word from any one but you, 
 Hiram. They all let go of me, and I don't 
 blame 'em ; but you hung on, and here I am 
 on my feet again." 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. Ill 
 
 Hiram's eyes lighted up. His lips trembled, 
 and so did his voice. " When I get up yonder, 
 Jonas," he whispered, " may I tell 'em what 
 you say? May I ask 'em to send some inves- 
 tigatin' angel down to Woodbine to call on you, 
 Jonas Crimp? for I may need to prove that I 
 have not been an unprofitable servant. I shall 
 be there to-morrow, or the next day, Jonas, and 
 if I can tell the Lord what you say it will be a 
 great comfort." 
 
 Two hours later, during which he had slept 
 restlessly, he exclaimed, " Oh, what a blessed 
 thing it is to do good!" He was still thinking 
 of Jonas, and the wood-cutter's words were 
 ringing in his heart like a chime of bells. " Oh, 
 what a privilege to bring a soul out of darkness 
 into light ! " He looked upward with enraptured 
 glance, as though the ceiling and the roof had 
 disappeared and he were gazing at the starry 
 heavens. " To be able to do God a real ser- 
 vice ! " he murmured. " To be a co-worker with 
 Christ ! To preach to the lost, the lost, the lost, 
 
112 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 until their sins are blotted out by tears of repent- 
 ance! Ah, parson," and he turned to John, 
 who sat by his side, " that makes life worth 
 livin'," 
 
 He was exhausted by the effort, and, turning 
 on his side, fell once more into slumber. But 
 his lips still moved, and a smile played about 
 them, as though he were listening again to what 
 Jonas had said. 
 
 When John took Hiram's poor, thin hand in 
 his, and in a voice broken by emotion repeated 
 the words of David, " ' Though I walk through 
 the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
 evil,' " the patient sufferer finished the quota- 
 tion : " For Thou art with me,' " and there he 
 hesitated for an instant. Then he began again, 
 " ' For thou art with me ; Thy rod and Thy 
 staff they comfort me.' Yes, parson," he 
 added, " I have often thought of this hour, and 
 wondered how I should stand the ordeal. You 
 see, my good friend, that I am dyin' very com- 
 fortably." 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. II3 
 
 " Still cheerful, Hiram, still cheerful," and 
 John was so bowed down by personal grief that 
 he spoke with difficulty. 
 
 Hiram pressed John's hand gently, and re- 
 plied, " Rejoice in the Lord alway, alway, alway. 
 I am able to do that, parson, and it seems 
 easy to do it, easier than I feared it might be. 
 There's only a short road behind me, though 
 I've lived more'n sixty year, and a part of it lies 
 through darkness ; but there's a long road ahead, 
 and its brightness — O parson, I can't describe it. 
 What a good-natured creature Death is after all ! 
 We've made a mistake about him. He isn't 
 what we have thought him, John Jessig. He's 
 gentler, and kinder, and more considerate. See 
 how smooth he's makin' my path! I'm goin' 
 on, and on, and on, and when him and me stand 
 on the other shore, and he tells me to follow the 
 shinin' Cross and I'll reach the City, I'll say to 
 him, ' Dear Death, you have done for me more 
 than life ever did or could do. I want to apolo- 
 gize for some hard thoughts I've had about 
 
1 14 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 you.' Yes, parson, there's nothin' half so easy 
 as dyin' when by dyin' you reach the home 
 where there ain't no more tears and no more 
 night." 
 
 At midnight Hiram woke after troubled sleep. 
 His breathing was a little heavier than usual, 
 and he was evidently affected by some strong 
 emotion. 
 
 " I have seen Him!" he whispered. 
 
 "Seen whom, Hiram?" asked John. 
 
 " Him ! How wonderful ! I fear I am al- 
 most impatient to have it over with. But it 
 can't last long now. A few hours more, only a 
 few hours more — and then ! " 
 
 " Him ? " and John's cheeks grew pale. He 
 too was laboring under a great deal of excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " Yes, the Saviour! My dear Lord! He 
 stood on the farther bank of a narrer stream, 
 but it was deep and black, and beckoned to me. 
 He is waitin' for me, parson. Think of it! 
 The Lord is there waitin' for the shoemaker! 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. I15 
 
 Oh, that face! Those robes of light! There 
 wasn't no look of sorrer nor even of pity on His 
 face, but an expression of welcome. He seemed 
 to be glad that my workin' days is ended, glad 
 that I am to have a new body, glad that I am 
 to be young again." 
 
 "Then, Hiram, you are not sorry that heaven 
 is so close at hand? You have no desire to 
 come back, my friend?" 
 
 " Come back? " and there was a look of pain 
 on Hiram's face at the thought. " Come back ? " 
 he said feebly. " Parson, don't speak of sech 
 a thing ! I have seen too much to want to stay 
 here any longer. I know now why the sight of 
 heaven is hid from us. We couldn't bear it. 
 No one sees it until he is where I am. It is 
 better so. We should be unwillin' to live un- 
 less we was kept in ignorance. The longin' to 
 go would make us restless and unhappy. When 
 one sees what I have seen, he can't stay no 
 longer. 'As the hart pants for the water-brooks, 
 so panteth my soul for Thee, O God ! ' 
 
Il6 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 " What are them? " he asked a httle later on. 
 
 " Some wild flowers, Hiram, which Jane Green 
 brought you. She gathered them in the woods 
 half-way up the hills." 
 
 " Ah yes, ah yes. Let me take 'em in my 
 hand. It will be my last look at the beautiful 
 things of the earth." 
 
 He held them tremulously for a moment. 
 "Poor Jane!" he said. "God bless the good 
 woman. She was down-hearted, with two sick 
 children, and nothing laid by for the rent. It 
 was very kind of her to think of me." 
 
 The morning dawned bright and clear. John 
 looked out of the cottage window and watched 
 the stars as they grew paler and paler, while the 
 sun crept up to the hill- tops, as though saying 
 its cheery good-morning to the awakened vil- 
 lagers. A cool and gentle breeze broke the sur- 
 face of the lazy Cheroquee into ripples, and a 
 gossamer tissue of mist rose from the meadows, 
 half frightened at the sudden appearance of that 
 imperious and blazing orb. 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. 1 17 
 
 This was John's first experience with death. 
 His mother had died while he was still in his 
 cradle, but his father remained, a hale and 
 hearty old man of nearly seventy-five. Broth- 
 ers and sisters he had none, and when from time 
 to time some relative of the family had with- 
 drawn the veil and entered the mysterious 
 land, it seemed a far-away incident, uncon- 
 nected with any severe sense of personal loss. 
 But here was a very close friend, humble as the 
 world goes, noble as God reckons, whose hand 
 was on the very door of the tomb, and who 
 was about to enter in the serene faith that he 
 would be roused from sleep by angels and con- 
 ducted to a radiant home far away from the ills 
 of this present life. He was mentally impressed 
 and morally subdued by the strange spectacle. 
 Words failed him, but his heart and his eyes 
 were full. The Sabbath-day of a soul was 
 dawning. He could almost hear the echo of 
 that chorus with which the faithful are awak- 
 ened, and yet was startled into something like 
 
Il8 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 exaltation by the thought that Hiram, sure of 
 himself, without even a lingering doubt, was 
 not merely ready for the summons, but was 
 listening for it with something like eagerness. 
 His attitude was not that of a man who bends 
 under a heavy burden, and cries, " Thy will be 
 done," but of one who is glad to step from dark- 
 ness into light, from the weariness of the body 
 into the rest of immortality, and who transfigures 
 Death by warmly grasping his hand and saying, 
 " Thank you ! " John marveled in spite of him- 
 self. He had expected much, but not quite this. 
 " Religion can do many things," he said to him- 
 self, as he looked out upon the reddening clouds 
 in the east, " but to do this ! Ah, how wonder- 
 ful, how glorious it is!" 
 
 Martha was sitting by her husband's side. 
 John had insisted on watching with him, and 
 the wife had stolen a few hours of unwilling and 
 hardly restful sleep. Twice she had risen during 
 the night and peered through the doorway, but 
 John nodded his head to assure her that all was 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. Iig 
 
 well, and motioned her back. With the first 
 streaks of morning her eyes opened wide and 
 refused to close again. She could no longer 
 stay away from the patient man by whose side 
 she had traveled for many, many years of life's 
 strange journey, and so sat there, gazing at that 
 wan face, her eyes dry, but her heart beating its 
 sad requiem. 
 
 Hiram woke as a ray of sunlight fell on his 
 face. 
 
 " Marthy," he whispered, and there was a 
 pathetic tenderness in his voice. 
 
 "Yes, Hiram." 
 
 He lifted his hand and pointed upward. " It's 
 not fur now, dear wife, not fur. I am pretty 
 well tired out, but I'm happy and expectin'. My 
 Father's mansion! They're openin' the gates! 
 Jest a little while and you'll come too, Marthy. 
 Don't be nervous when you hear 'em call. We've 
 grown old together, Marthy. Blessed years ! A 
 little trouble and misgivin' once in a while, but 
 it don't seem nothin' now. Tell our boy my last 
 
I20 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 thoughts was of him. I don't care if he grows 
 rich, say, but ah, if he keeps good! Be sure 
 and tell him that. I shall see you and him on 
 the other side, but you fust, I hope. When 
 you come, don't be in the leastwise timid. Some 
 of us will be right there to meet you, and I guess 
 the Lord'll let m.e be among them that says 
 good-mornin' !" 
 
 John saw that the end was rapidly approach- 
 ing, and in low tones, mellowed by his grief, he 
 repeated the Lord's Prayer, Hiram, with eyes 
 closed and hands folded across his heart, uniting 
 in the little service. The dying shoemaker was 
 as calm as one who is about to start on a jour- 
 ney, his trunks all packed, hat in hand, standing 
 at the doorway and waiting for the tramp of the 
 horses' feet. As to fear, he had none. His 
 triumphant faith had sustained him during many 
 a hard trial, and it was quite sufficient for the 
 present emergency. 
 
 "You will soon be with God, my dear brother," 
 said John. 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. 121 
 
 Hiram turned his eyes wearily on the speak- 
 er's face, and still true to his old self, and still 
 quaint as ever, replied, " Parson, I have been 
 with Him all my life." 
 
 " You will soon be in heaven, Hiram — that 
 is what I mean." 
 
 "Yes, in heaven!" was the feeble response, 
 and a strange and beautiful smile irradiated his 
 face. "Yes, in heaven! and soon! This pain 
 ain't easy to bear, because I'm growin' weaker, 
 but it can't last much longer. My soul is loos- 
 enin' its chains. I can hear 'em as they drop, 
 one by one. Then I shall be free, free!" 
 
 Then occurred an incident which afterward 
 furnished John with many a thoughtful hour. I 
 have pondered over his description of it, and it 
 has seemed more and more wonderful. And 
 yet, why should I think it marvelous ? Is . not 
 the world full of experiences which strike us 
 with awe — experiences the very remembrance 
 of which fills the eyes with tears and the heart 
 with wonder? Cannot every household which 
 
122 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 has been visited by Death duplicate what hap- 
 pened in that lowly cottage on the outskirts of 
 Woodbine? Mothers who have nursed their 
 children until the Lord took them to His arms, 
 husbands who have watched through the still 
 hours by the bedside of the dying wife, will tell 
 you that the last hours are sometimes filled with 
 startling revelations which show that the other 
 world and this one are so close to each other 
 that it is but a single step across the boundary. 
 The departing enjoy privileges which are not 
 vouchsafed to the rest of us. They see sights 
 and hear sounds to which others' eyes are blind 
 and others' ears are deaf. 
 
 While John was still holding Hiram's hand 
 and the good wife was tearfully leaning over 
 him, he gave a quick, convulsive sob. It was 
 apparently the last effort of expiring nature. 
 The perfume of the morning crept through the 
 open window, and the splendor of the sun filled 
 the room and made fantastic figures on the car- 
 pet. That sob was not only portentous, but 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. 
 
 123 
 
 thrilling. The cheeks of the onlookers grew 
 pale, and their hearts stood still, for death, when 
 undoing the last chains of bondage, produces an 
 effect which is almost terrifying. One cannot 
 speak, he simply waits. The all- conqueror is 
 present, and seems to be both impatient and in- 
 exorable. 
 
 A convulsive sob ! Then came that ominous 
 exhalation, like a long-drawn sigh, as though the 
 soul in its extremity were loth to part with the 
 body in which it had lived so long — a sigh of 
 pity for those who are left, a sigh of rehef that 
 all is over, the good-by of the spirit as it closes 
 the door of earth and enters heaven. 
 
 John and Martha were motionless, spellbound. 
 Neither uttered a word for a full minute. They 
 looked at each other, and each wondered whether 
 the other knew that Hiram was no longer there. 
 
 At last John hoarsely whispered, " He has 
 gone! God's will be done." 
 
 There was no reply, unless, indeed, the sob of 
 a breaking heart was a reply. 
 
124. HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 But see! The eyelids are moving and the 
 hps are trembling. What can it mean? He 
 has not gone yet! Not quite yet! The sleeper 
 is about to wake. Slowly, oh, so slowly, those 
 eyelids part, and Hiram gazes about the room 
 like one who has been looking at a bright light 
 and can hardly trust himself. He does not at 
 once recall those dear ones at his side, but scans 
 their faces like one trying to catch the clue of 
 memory and is hardly able to do so. Then 
 comes a sudden gleam of recognition, and a smile 
 rests on his lips. 
 
 " I thought — I — I thought — " he begins, 
 in tones which seem like an echo, and then 
 stops, as though the effort to speak were too 
 great, or as though the soul, having once sur- 
 rendered its control of the body, finds it diffi- 
 cult to regain it. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Hiram," said John, stooping low 
 over the sufferer. 
 
 " Why, how strange all this is ! " he murmured. 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. 1 25 
 
 " Is that you, parson ? And that is my Marthy ? 
 I thought I was in heaven ! I was among the 
 angels ! I saw — I saw — and now I am here 
 again. Ah, they're comin' once more! Can't 
 you See 'em ? How many, many there be ! The 
 bells is ringin'. And those voices! They are 
 callin', callin', callin*. Good-by, good — " 
 
 Then the eyes closed for the last time, and all 
 was still. Death had completed his task, and 
 borne his prize to the other shore. Hiram had 
 crossed the border, and would return no more. 
 
 And yet the sun shone! Not in mockery of 
 human sorrow, I ween, for there is neither in- 
 difference nor sarcasm- in nature, but in glad 
 welcome to the new-born soul that was taking 
 its first few steps in the glorious journey to the 
 Throne. Yes, the sun shone ! The world must 
 go on whether men live or die. And it seemed 
 a symbol of that holy faith which lightens the 
 dark places of earth and fills with divine radiance 
 even the dark valley. 
 
126 HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION. 
 
 Two years later I visited Woodbine, and my 
 old classmate, John Jessig. The conversation 
 naturally turned to my own struggles and his 
 since our college days, and then he told me this 
 story. 
 
 " Let us make a pilgrimage to his grave," he 
 said. 
 
 There it was, in a grassy corner of the little 
 churchyard, a bright and cheerful spot for one's 
 body to rest in. 
 
 I read these words on the tombstone : 
 
 "Hiram Golf, shoemaker by the grace of God." 
 
 " He would have it so," said John. " It was 
 one of his last requests. He believed that all 
 work is God's work." 
 
 " And it was your privilege to minister to his 
 faith in holy things, John." 
 
 " Yes, but it was also his privilege to minister 
 to mine. I gave him little, he gave me much. 
 He was a priest without the robes of office, a 
 humble laborer in the vineyard, an honest area- 
 
FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN. \2^ 
 
 ture, a true friend. His life was incarnate Chris- 
 tianity. His death — well, my dear boy, such 
 as he never die. The villagers remember him 
 with gratitude, and speak of him often. He is 
 of the few who enjoy two immortalities, one 
 there and one here. Would there were more 
 like him." 
 
 THE END, 
 
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