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The greater part of the Fitch property that was used for pasturing purposes was low and swampy and had long been the haunt of many poisonous snakes. One portion of the land that was higher than the rest, Mr. Fitch had decided to have prepared for spring plowing, and Edwin's work was to gather the brush and the stones into piles that they might be burned or hauled away. He was also instructed to drive the cows from those parts of the pasture in which the snakes were the most numerous. With nothing to protect his bare feet and with no understanding of the danger of snakebites, he was often tramping in places where the reptiles were gliding past him in many directions, but upon none of these occasions was he ever bitten.
It was said that ghosts and many strange objects were often discovered in the house or grove of the Fitch property, and also that some unearthly creatures had been frequently known to rise from an unused chimney and, moving slowly toward the large field, to disappear always at a certain place. Others said that ghosts and horrible-looking forms had been met in the grove, and still others had heard strange noises, as the slamming of doors and windows when no breeze was blowing, the moving of heavy pieces of furniture, and the rattling and dragging of heavy chains.
One man said that once while working for Mr. Fitch he was sleeping in a certain room when suddenly the covers from the bed began to move and that although he resisted with all his strength, they were torn away. Feeling confident that he was the only occupant of the room, he left the place in the night vowing that he would never return.
These stories and many more were told by the visitors who congregated in the evening about the home from time to time, and they were usually approved and strengthened by Mr. and Mrs. Fitch, who could tell of many worse and more absurd happenings. Edwin often listened to the weird tales because those telling them were anxious to frighten him, but sometimes it was because of his own curiosity. He was often seized with a strong desire to investigate and to find out for himself whether the things that they said were really true. Upon different occasions he was allowed to sleep in the rooms that were supposed to be haunted, but never did he see or find out anything that was unusual.
Lying and stealing and other evils were often freely discussed by the boys and girls of the neighborhood when they gathered in the grove, and it was no uncommon thing to hear some one telling of a narrow escape from detection. Occasionally Eldwin was asked to tell a lie to help another cover up some evil deed, but this Edwin always stoutly refused to do. When fun was made of him or he was mocked for his principles of right, his answer was always, "I never want any one to lie or steal for me, and I will not do such things for any one else." His reason for speaking thus was not that he looked upon either of these things as sins, for he had no conception of what sin was. It was simply his sense of duty and his admiration of doing that which was right and just. Thus, his mother's desire to have him educated in wrong-doing was in no wise gratified, and his young life, even in the home of one of Satan's most efficient servants, was protected and preserved pure and blameless.
"Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners." (Psa. 1:1).
CHAPTER X
A CONTRAST
When people once are in the wrong, Each line they add is much too long; Who fastest walks, but walks astray, Is only furthest from his way.
—Prior.
At the age of nineteen Edwin was still untaught by man regarding the hereafter and God. The little that he had gleaned from the words and actions of the sinful people with whom he was forced to associate had opened his understanding sufficiently for him to know that there is a spirit life and some sort of reward for the evil and the good, but that was about all.
His life in the home of Mr. Fitch had been hard indeed, but through all his hardships the desire to do right had never left him, and the little prayer learned in the poorhouse was still a comfort when he was lonely and sad. Many times in the silent hours of the night as he repeated the words softly to himself and realized the waves of strength and courage sweeping over him, he was made to wonder, but he never thought of connecting the prayer with God. To Edwin the words were simply a pleasant and sacred memory that was treasured and appreciated, but his divine Teacher was using them as a foundation for his spiritual education.
Although Elmer knew little more concerning the hereafter, he was far better informed in the ways of the world, for his life had been paved with opportunities, and he had made use of them. However, without a standard in his heart such as Edwin had erected and with no home government to protect and guide him, as a petted and humored and spoiled child he had indulged in many sins until some of the crimes traced to his door were of the blackest hue. He had already been tried for various crimes, but the latest trial was for his having promised to marry a young girl, when he had already a living wife and child in another part of the city. "Why," do you ask? "could this difference be?" Take a look into the heart and life of each, and you will discover the answer. Every thought and purpose of the one, regardless of consequences, had been to do the right for principle's sake and because it was right, and God, noting his good intentions, had guided him onward. The other, from the time that he had stolen the pebbles in the silent hours of the night, had sought for opportunities to do similar underhand deeds.
Was it the fault of Elmer that such things should be? Not altogether. The greater blame must be laid at the door of those whose duty it was to warn and advise him of his danger and to see to it that he obeyed them while he was young; for it is very plainly stated in the Bible that the child should be trained in its youth (Prov. 22:6). Nevertheless, the evil-doer must have his just deserts; for "whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap" (Gal. 6:7).
Elmer had continued his stealing until among the stolen articles were suits of men's clothing, sums of money, and other things too numerous to mention. He had also been guilty of forging notes. But the crime of deceiving the young girl seemed to his friends the most humiliating.
Although Edwin no longer lived in the community of his mother or Mr. Fitch, for he was supporting himself, he had learned what a mother's place in his life should be and the attitude that a son should hold toward her. He therefore, regardless of her former shortcomings, went occasionally to see her. In answer to those who questioned how he could respect or visit his mother after all that she had caused him to suffer, he would say: "She is still my mother, just as though she had always been good to me, and I shall always regard her as a mother. During my childhood I held nothing against her for all the things I suffered, and why should I now?" Hearing of Elmer's trouble, Edwin hastened to his mother's home, and while listening to her tale of woe he heard her say:
"I just can't understand what Elmer means by doing such outlandish things now that he is grown up. If he were a boy, I wouldn't think so much about it, but here he is a man and bringing home to us nothing but sorrow and disgrace. He can scarcely get out of one trouble until he is in another, and he even sets the other children up to do things that are bad. Now, how is it that you, whom I never gave credit for knowing anything, have never caused me any anxiety or trouble in any way? No matter where you are or how hard you have to work, I can never find any one that has anything bad to say about you. I can't see why there should be such a difference."
"Why, Mother," Edwin answered, "it is very plain. I can tell you all about it. Do you remember the time when Elmer took the pebbles from my pocket in the night time? That was his start. After that he often took things from your dress-pockets and money-drawer, and it was easy for him to slip in behind the counters at the stores to help himself, for you always took his part and shielded him; and you never taught him that he must be true to his wife. You told me I must never speak to you of these things, and I did not before, for I knew that it would do no good; but the little seed that was planted in his heart that night when he was allowed to keep the pebbles has grown until it is what you see it now. Elmer is a thief and will have to receive from the law the punishment that you ought to have given him long ago."
"I don't see how taking a few little stones out of your pocket could make him a thief or amount to this," his mother said as the truth began to dawn upon her.
"Why, Mother," Edwin answered, "it is just as natural for that little deed to grow and multiply as for a thistle-seed to grow and increase when it is dropped in the ground. One healthy stalk will bear a great many blossoms, and every blossom will have an abundant crop of seeds. The little thistle-seed is very small and perfectly harmless if watched and destroyed before it has time to grow, but let it take root in fertile soil and get a start, and it will surely yield many more thistles and continue to increase long after the plant itself is forgotten."
While Edwin was speaking, his mother seemed to realize something of the meaning of his words. The time to undo many of the wrongs that she had done the growing boys when they were under her care had gone; but had she known it, there was still a chance to help poor Edwin, who, through observation, had discovered some deep and mysterious truths.
He had found that there is nothing certain upon the earth except that everything must have a beginning and an ending, and that old age and death are unavoidable. The stories of ghosts and superstitious sayings had opened up avenues for thought, and he reasoned that if everything must die, and if there is a heaven and a hell, and if God knows all we do and say, there must be some way for a person to know in which of these places he will live after he is dead.
For a long time the thought had troubled him, but although he had asked many people regarding the matter, no one had explained it to his satisfaction. Taking note of his mother's friendly attitude toward him, he ventured to ask if she could give him any information on the subject, but her answer was: "We can not know these things until after we are dead. We must wait and see."
As Edwin left his mother's home to return to the place where he had been working, he was more perplexed than ever; but he had decided that since the good place and the bad had been made for a purpose and since the good and the bad must inhabit their own proper places, he would not cease trying to solve the problem until he proved that it was an impossibility to do so.
Poor Edwin! Could some one have read to him from the Bible—but no! Had he listened, he could not have understood; he had no way of knowing that it was God's word to man.
"Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city" (Rev. 22:14).
CHAPTER XI
SEARCHING FOR LIGHT
The inquiring spirit will not be controlled; He would make certain all, and all behold.
—Sprague.
At the age of twenty-one Edwin had formed one bad habit. Having had nobody to tell him that the use of tobacco was harmful to his body and seeing it used as commonly as a food by nearly all, regardless of age or sex, he had learned both to smoke and to chew. By the permission of the farmers for whom he had worked, he had raised a few tobacco-plants for himself, and the leaves of these plants, when carefully dried, were what he used as smoking-tobacco, but the cigars and chewing-tobacco he purchased at the store.
But although Edwin had never heard that tobacco was in any way unfit for the use of man, something within him seemed to suggest that there were some things about its use that were filthy and unclean. One thing that he abhorred was the chewing of tobacco in the house, because he pitied the women who were forced to look after and clean the spittoons. When in the house in the evening or on Sunday he considered smoking his pipe or cigars more appropriate, and he had supplied himself with special mouth-pieces for his cigars and convenient cases in which to carry them in his pockets. He did his chewing when at his work in the field. He also felt that it was placing his employer's property in too much danger to smoke when about his work in the barn, and this he always avoided. Thus, the same principle that had governed his earlier years was still his ruling trait.
Although for so many months Edwin had been seeking carefully and often with tears for some clue to the mystery connected with the hereafter, he had as yet found no one who could inform him on the subject; for those whom he considered the best people living were as uncertain concerning the future reward as the most vile. But from information gleaned he felt that there must be a place somewhere beyond the grave where the good and the bad would live again. When reasoning about the matter, he would say, "Now, if I am on the road to heaven, how am I to know if I get off that road and take a branch that will land me in hell?"
The thought of his own good behavior and abhorrence of all that he considered evil did not suggest to his mind that for this reason he might be the more entitled to enter the better place, for all his actions had been prompted by a sense of justice and his duty toward his fellow men.
Having become acquainted with a young married couple named Frank and Amanda Kauffman, Edwin went often to their home to pour out his troubles and perplexities. But although these people tried hard to help him, their efforts often plunged him into greater doubts and confusion. Whenever he went to them or to any one else with his question, it seemed that the answer was still the same: "No one can know about these things. We must all wait and see." Still he was not discouraged. Instead he was more than ever determined to keep on trying until he did find out.
Had Edwin been able to reason about the drunkard, the thief, or the liar, as not being fit for the good place, it might have been different, but to him the evils with which they were bound were a matter of choice. He had never heard the story of Adam and Eve, and so did not know that their first sin had severed not only them but also the entire human race from God's family (Rom. 5:19). Had he known that it is impossible for any one to know God or to enter the better world without first realizing that he is already condemned and on the road to destruction, and that the only way to be transferred to the highway leading to heaven is to be forgiven and adopted back into the family of God as a redeemed child, it would not have been so hard for him to understand upon which road he was traveling.
It was springtime, and as the days grew warm and bright, the tiny grass-blades in the meadowlands made their appearance. Then it was that the farmer for whom Edwin was working realized that it was time to gather the stones that were scattered here and there throughout the meadow into piles that they might be hauled away before they became lost in the soft, velvety carpet of green; for should they be left where they were, later on the knives of the mowing-machine and the teeth of the hay-rake would be badly damaged and perhaps broken. Edwin was told, therefore, that his work for a time would be to gather all the stones, both large and small, into heaps in systematic order so that they could be easily hauled away by the team in the large farm-wagon.
As THe field was large and level, it was a pleasant place to work, and Edwin, having plenty of time to think, confined his thoughts principally to the things that were uppermost in his mind. He reasoned thus:
"Now, if a man must walk every step of the way through life in uncertainty and doubt as to what the end will be, and has such a short time to stay in this world how miserable THe remainder of my life will be! If only I could do something whereby I could know surely that I would at the last have my desire, I would be so glad! Still," he reasoned on, "there must be some way to know these things, and I will not stop trying to find out just what it is. It's altogether unreasonable to believe that we can not know until after we die about these things. God surely has some way to let us understand; for if he didn't what would there be to hinder every person on earth from going to hell? Surely God wants some of the people to go to the other place."
His belief that some were surely on their way to heaven was firm, and he felt that those few must not be in doubt as to where they were going, and that God must in some way let them know how to live in order to keep on the right road, and also that their lives must be peaceful and happy. But he felt that some great change would have to take place in one's life before this assurance could come.
Thus, God again, when all men failed him, became Edwin's teacher, for these thoughts were in accordance with the Bible, and in wisdom and love his heavenly Father helped him to comprehend the very principles of a true Christian life. The truths he thus learned were so deeply stamped upon his mind with the divine seal that they could never be erased. Still within his heart there was another question that had not been answered: "How can I get this assurance within my own heart?" Nothing could ever bring satisfaction until he knew without a doubt that he was going aright, and nothing but facts would ever dispel his doubts.
"God," he reasoned, "is the only one who knows, and the only way for me to understand is for God to let me know just what he thinks about me. God will not deal with me according to what the people may think of me, or by what they may say. Some say that I am all right now; but if I were all right, I should be the first to know it, and I do not feel that I am fit now for heaven if I should die."
The knowledge that he had always tried to do the best that he could and that he had endeavored to treat every creature living as fairly as he knew how was not enough to satisfy him, and he said: "There is something still of which I have never heard or dreamed. If only I could find out what it is or by what means I could get it, how glad I should be! Can it be that I must die before I know what it is?"
"Shall not God search this out? for he knoweth the secrets of the heart" (Psa. 44:21).
CHAPTER XII
A REVELATION ON ETERNITY
Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
—Longfellow.
While Edwin was still laboring among the stones in the field of grass, this thought came suddenly to his mind:
"If I should be so unfortunate as to die before I receive the assurance that I am going to heaven and I should happen to find myself in hell, how long would I have to be there? And how hot would be that fire that I have heard so much about from profane tongues? Would there be any ending or wearing away of eternity? and would the suffering after a while be less severe? or would it go right on just the same forever and ever?"
As his desire to know these things increased, he was willing to lay aside his thoughts concerning how he was to get the assurance that he was going to heaven, and as he passed from one heap of stones to another, he became sorely troubled. He longed for a friend to whom he could go for help, but no one was suggested to his mind. Even his friend Frank Kauffman, he was sure, could not enlighten him; for to none of the questions he already asked upon these subjects had he received satisfactory answers.
Then suddenly, as though he had passed into the great beyond, everything about him appeared to be changed. He seemed to have died and passed into hell, and the flames, as they rose in imagination about him, were penetrating every fiber of his being, and he cried out in his distress. But as though the vision had been only to teach him of the reality of that place of torment, Edwin felt himself caught up, as it were, and he was seemingly suspended in an endless space with the eternal realities of life opened up for him to view. For miles and miles nothing but space appeared to stretch before, above, and around him, with the glaring flames that he had just left but a short distance behind him.
Then the scene was changed, and he saw before him a great and high mountain of sand, and the thought of the impossibility of counting the grains was suggested to his mind. Again the scene changed, and each grain in the mountain seemed to be a year, and the grains as years began to form themselves into one continuous straight line, so long that the distance could not be measured by the human eye, for there was no end. Once more there was a change. The line of years took the form of a great measuring-rod, and strength was given Edwin to grasp the rod and to try to measure the duration of hell-fire; and he tried to see if in eternity there could be any possible way of forgetting the past. Twice with the immense rod he measured into the sea of Forgetfulness, but before the third measurement was taken, he saw from a backward glance that hell was no farther away from him than it had been at the first. In great distress Edwin dropped the rod, and the vision passed away.
When he realized that he was still in the field of grass and was on time's side of eternity, he was very glad indeed. Through the vision he was convinced of two things—that hell and its torments were certain, and that eternity was without end—and he was filled with a new determination and zeal to do everything in his power to obtain an assurance within himself that he was really on the road to the better world.
How sad that Edwin could not have gone directly to Jesus as some did in olden time and have heard him explain that to enter heaven one must be born again.
"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit." "Except a man be born again, he can not see the kingdom of God." (John 3:8,3).
CHAPTER XIII
PUZZLED ABOUT PRAYER
Heaven asks no surplice round the heart that feels, And all is holy where devotion kneels.
—Holmes.
Edwin's distress of mind and his confusion of thought were greatly increased when, a few days after the vision in the field, there was another strange occurrence. The stones had not all been gathered into piles, but the work was progressing well, and when Edwin occasionally stopped in his work to note the appearance of the large field, he was pleased with what he had accomplished. The burden of his thought, however, was not the work nor the neatness of the place. Neither was it the beautiful scenery of slightly rolling country, the Christmas stories and legends connected with Blue Mountain, nor the ghost-stories and horrors in the home of the witch. Even the vision of eternity was a thing of the past.
"If only I knew! If only I could tell, before I die, on which of the roads I am traveling to eternity!" was the constant cry of his troubled soul. Once when these words had just escaped his lips, he suddenly heard a strange and rumbling sound that seemed to come from the very heart of the earth, and he felt the ground beneath his feet begin to shake. Unable to understand what had happened, Edwin hastened to the house, but the people there were as mystified as he himself, except that they said, "Surely it must have been an earthquake!" and some suggested that the end of the world might be near. With this bit of knowledge, Edwin returned to his work, but oh, how heavy was his heart!
"Why is it so hard," he cried, "to discover the secret that is causing me all this worry and trouble?" But the words had no sooner escaped his lips than he added, "There is and there must be some way to find out, and I'll keep on trying until I know that it is of no use to try."
Across the fields on a pretty knoll stood the humble little dwelling of Frank Kauffman and his wife, and as Edwin glanced occasionally in that direction, he wondered if his friend would be able to enlighten him about the earthquake, and he planned to visit him that very evening after supper.
Frank's home, although small, was always cozy and inviting; for Amanda, long before Frank married her, had been taught by her energetic, systematic mother, Mrs. Miller, the principles of good housekeeping. And Frank, although not a Christian, had been reared by a pious and devoted mother, who in all her ways endeavored to set before her children an example that she would not be ashamed to have them follow, and she was a woman who knew the value of prayer. For this reason Frank could easily talk on a few of the principles of religion; but when it came to the actual experiences, he was at a loss to know what to say.
But although Frank's mother was so noble and true, his father's goodness was only from a moral standpoint, and regardless of the evil effect that his smoking might have upon his three growing boys, he very much enjoyed his pipe. As a result of the father's indulgence, Frank and his two brothers, when scattered out in homes of their own, said, "Father smoked and seems none the worse for it, and I guess a little tobacco will not hurt us."
But the fact that some of her family smoked at all never ceased to be a great worry to Mrs. Kauffman, and whenever there was an opportunity she reminded them of their fault. And as Frank's home was but a short distance from his mother's, Edwin's visits were noticed by the anxious woman, and when she found that he too was a tobacco-user, she was much worried about the influence he might have over her son.
After she had expressed her fears concerning Edwin, one day to Frank, her son answered, "Mother, you are doing Edwin a great injustice; for instead of his being an evil associate, he is not only noble and good, but a pattern of good works, for even in the use of tobacco he is moderate and neat. More than this," Frank continued, "Edwin is very much interested in religion, and many times I am unable to answer his questions because they are so deep."
Could Mrs. Kauffman have known Edwin at this time, she would certainly have been of a different opinion, and she might have helped him through some of his difficulties; but she knew nothing of the perplexities of his mind, and Edwin did not know of her anxieties concerning his influence over her son.
When Edwin saw the evening shades beginning to gather, he was glad, and as soon as his supper and evening duties were over, he made his way across meadow and fields to the home of his friend, and he did not forget to carry with him a generous supply of dried tobacco-leaves, which he had tied up in a large red handkerchief. The leaves were for his friend and him to smoke while they talked.
As he passed the place in the field where he had felt the shock of the earthquake, he remembered, that he had not told Frank about the vision of eternity and hell that was still fresh in his memory, and then so rapidly were the things suggested to his mind that he would like to say, that he began to wonder if he would be able to unburden his heart in so short a time.
When he approached the house, he saw his friend Frank seated upon the porch. Frank was resting after a hard day's work in the field, but he gave Edwin a hearty welcome and bade him be seated beside him. Edwin took the chair, and the two were soon loading their pipes from the dried tobacco-leaves contained in the red handkerchief. Then as the circles of blue smoke began to arise in the air, Frank asked:
"Did you feel or hear over at your place anything of the earthquake?"
"Yes, and I should like to know more about it," Edwin answered.
"It shook the windows and doors in our house so hard that my wife couldn't imagine for a time what was happening," Frank continued, "and my horse in the field came very near getting away from me."
"It seemed to me," Edwin remarked, "that the whole field where I was working was going to pieces and that I was going right down into eternity."
Then, as they smoked, Edwin told his friend all about his vision and explained how dreadful he felt it would be to land in such an awful place when he came to leave this world.
"I guess you felt like saying a prayer about the time you found yourself in hell, didn't you?" Frank asked as Edwin finished relating the incident.
The awful picture of the future world that had been painted in words had caused Frank to shudder, for he was not prepared to die. It might have been Frank's manner and it might have been the tone in which the word "prayer" was spoken that caused Edwin to exclaim:
"Prayer! what is prayer?"
"Prayer," Frank replied, "is man's way of talking with God. When anybody tells God what he wants, he prays; and God has promised to hear his words and to help him out of his troubles. But the person who prays must speak from his heart and not try to say a lot of words that he has learned from some one else or from a book. A prayer from the heart is the only kind that God will hear."
"What do you mean by talking with God?" Edwin asked in a still more mystified tone, for he had never thought of man while still on the earth or in fact anywhere else, as speaking with God in heaven.
After Frank had explained that such a thing was possible, Edwin exclaimed:
"Who can make such a prayer? Do you know of any one who can?"
The twilight shades had all disappeared from the sky above, and it was already dark where Frank and Edwin were sitting, but inside the cozy living-room Amanda, seated beside a table, upon which a kerosene-lamp was burning, was quietly knitting. Pointing in her direction, Frank said, confidently:
"There's one who can pray. And she prays from the heart."
Although Edwin had been in the home a number of times and had noticed Frank's wife, he had never talked with her, and as he gazed through the open window, he wondered what kind of person she could be. Turning suddenly to his friend, he said:
"By what means does a person become able to pray such a prayer?"
"By being converted," Frank answered.
"Converted!" Edwin exclaimed with even more wonder shining in his large brown eyes, for he seemed to realize instantly that another great and important subject had been introduced.
In answer to Edwin's question as to how it was possible to be converted, Frank explained that one was converted through prayer or by praying; but this answer was more confusing than any other had been, and Edwin exclaimed:
"Why, Frank, how is this? You say that the only kind of prayer that will amount to anything is that prayer that comes right out of the heart, and that to pray such a prayer one must be converted. And now you say that one is converted through prayer. Now tell me, if this is true, how and where does a person get his start?"
Not being a Christian himself, or ever having had the experience of salvation, Frank did not know how to unravel the tangle of thought that he had woven within Edwin's mind, and he was at a loss to know what to say.
How easy it would have been for Mrs. Kauffman to help Edwin out of his difficulty had she known, but she was in her own home a short distance away burdened and sad. She had watched Edwin as he crossed the fields on his way to the home of her son and knew that they were smoking upon the porch.
When the subject of prayer was dropped, Edwin told his friend that the farmer for whom he was working would soon be caught up with his work and that it would be necessary for him to look for a new place to work, and he asked Frank if he knew of any farmers who were needing help. As Edwin had expressed a desire to get into another neighborhood, if possible, for the experience, Frank said that his father-in-law, Mr. Miller, would be in need of hired men during harvest, and added, "If you wish, I will speak a good word in your behalf."
Edwin expressed his gratitude for his friend's interest, and then after a few other remarks he arose to go. Before leaving, however, he emptied the contents of the red handkerchief out upon a piece of paper. Then, putting the handkerchief in his pocket, he bade his friend goodnight.
It was a beautiful evening, but Edwin paid no attention to the stars as they gazed down upon him from above. He was thinking of his friend's words, and he said aloud: "To be converted must be the very thing for me and just what I need. But how am I to get converted, since I must pray and since I can not pray until I get converted?" The words taught him at the poorhouse came quickly to his mind, but he said sadly: "No, they won't do! Frank said that a prayer is words, but that the words must not be any that have been learned from any person or book. They must come right out of one's heart. What can it all mean?" And that night, for the first time in many years, the little prayer failed to bring him comfort before he closed his eyes in sleep.
"O thou that hearest prayer, unto thee shall all flesh come" (Psa. 65: 2).
CHAPTER XIV
A PRAYER-MEETING
Oh the precious privilege To the pious given, Sending by the dove of prayer Holy words to heaven! Arrows from the burning sun Cleave the quivering air; Swifter, loftier, surer on, Speeds the dove of prayer, Bearing from the parted lips Words of holy love, Warm as from the heart they gushed, To the throne above.
—Mrs. Hale.
Not long after the excitement caused by the earthquake had subsided, Frank Kauffman informed his father-in-law, Mr. Miller, of Edwin's intention to change his place of employment and took great pains to mention the young man's good qualities. As a result, Frank returned with the message: "My father-in-law will be glad to have you help him on the farm even before harvest, and you are at liberty, he said, to come just as soon as you care to do so." Accordingly, at the end of the month Edwin, together with his trunk and other baggage, was transferred to the home of Mr. Miller.
When the news of Edwin's departure from the neighborhood came to the ears of Mrs. Kauffman, she rejoiced, because she felt that his influence over her son in regard to smoking would not be so great; but little did she know what the move was to mean to Edwin or that it would bring him even more directly into her life.
Mr. Miller, a well-to-do old farmer, was still strong for his age and well able to assume the responsibilities connected with his business; so the greater part of his help was hired by the day. But since he would need one steady hand to help him throughout the harvest-season with the barn- and house-chores, he hired Edwin for two months. Finding that all that Frank had said of him was true, the Millers took Edwin into the home as a member of the family.
Edwin was not long in discovering that he greatly enjoyed being in this home, for both Mr. and Mrs. Miller were good people, and Mrs. Miller was a professor of religion. But to the young man so hungry for the right kind of living the lack of profanity between the husband and wife was the thing most noticeable and gratifying.
He had been there but a short time when the motherly sympathy of Mrs. Miller was aroused on account of his extreme ignorance on many subjects, and she did not grow weary in explaining the meaning of new words and in doing all else that she knew to do to enlighten his mind. That she might have a better opportunity to talk with Edwin, he was invited to share with the old couple the smoking-hour that was spent in the little summer-kitchen (for both Mr. and Mrs. Miller were fond of their tobacco). For this kindness Edwin was very grateful.
The little summer-kitchen, which had been built just back and a little apart from the large, convenient farm-house, was principally for the purpose of keeping the larger building free from the offensive odors that might arise from the cooking or the use of tobacco; but Mrs. Miller was so extremely neat and clean about her housekeeping that this room too was always cozy and inviting. In the chimney-corner of the kitchen a large fireplace had been built, and the latter had been covered by a closed iron cooking-grate. Above the rustic stove was a mantel, upon which the tobacco supplies of the old people were kept, and Edwin was told that he was welcome to place his pipes and cigars with theirs if he desired to do so. The invitation was gladly accepted, and when Edwin's things were arranged, the mantel was well filled. The other furnishings of the room were a large cupboard, the necessary articles for cooking, a long home-made dining-table in the center of the room with long benches on both sides, and a few old-fashioned straight-backed chairs. And here they met night after night to smoke and to talk.
The congregation to which Mrs. Miller belonged was in the habit of holding their weekly prayer-services in the residences of the different church-members, and soon after Edwin's arrival in her home Mrs. Miller told him that on the following Thursday evening there was to be a prayer-meeting at her house.
"A prayer-meeting!" Edwin exclaimed with as much wonder and astonishment as he had displayed when talking with Frank about prayer; and immediately he connected the words with those that he had listened to on the porch of his friend's home. And when he asked simply, "What is a prayer-meeting?" she hid her surprize and explained that some people from different parts of the neighborhood would come together after supper in some room and spend an hour in reading, praying, and singing hymns.
"Can I be with you too?" Edwin asked as though he expected to be denied the privilege; but when Mrs. Miller answered, "Certainly," the beseeching look immediately changed to one of gladness.
"Can it be possible," thought Edwin the following day as he went about his work, "that in this very home where I am now living they will have prayer. Only three more days! How can I wait until Thursday night?"
When at last the appointed evening had arrived, Edwin with great inward emotion and with bright anticipations watched the people as they arrived in groups of twos and threes, some on foot and others in carriages. When all had arrived and had passed on into the house, they were greeted by Mrs. Miller, and Edwin was invited to join them in the comfortable sitting-room of the large house.
Edwin felt that these people were conferring upon him a wonderful privilege and honor, but he could not get away from the feeling that he was an intruder in their meeting. He was surprized that no one else seemed to look upon his being there as strange. In fact, all were so very kind that he decided to get all the good possible from being there and to solve, if he could, the puzzle of prayer, also to find out what it meant to become converted.
Now, Edwin had never learned that there was any other language than the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, and having never been in a neighborhood where the Bible truths in any language were taught in his hearing, and not knowing that there was a Bible or a Savior, he had no way of understanding (even in his mother-tongue) what to most people would have been simple and readily comprehended.
When all was in readiness for the service to begin, a song was sung and then a chapter from the large German family Bible was read. After that all knelt to pray. Edwin knelt also, but he faced the others and gazed upon the upturned faces as though they belonged to creatures from another world. When Amanda and Mrs. Kauffman prayed and he saw their faces beaming with the glory of God, he was sure that their prayers were informal, for no books were before them and the words seemed to come from their hearts. The reason that he could not understand what was said, he felt sure, was because they were talking to God, and the language was that of another world.
When they arose and began telling of God's goodness to them, some even leaping and shouting at times, Edwin supposed that it was another form of prayer, and as the words spoken were all in German, they too, he reasoned, must belong to another world. Notwithstanding he rejoiced because he was there, and he believed that everything was just as it should have been.
When the meeting had been dismissed and the people had gone to their homes, Edwin and Mr. and Mrs. Miller went to the summer-kitchen to smoke before retiring. While they were filling their pipes and selecting the coals to light them, Mrs. Miller inquired, "How did you like the meeting tonight. Edwin? Was it like you thought it would be?" His answer did not reveal the fact that he had not understood enough of what had been said or done to form any new conclusion. He did tell her, however, that he thought the meeting was really wonderful, and he asked how they all knew that they were on the road to heaven. For Mrs. Miller this was a very hard question to answer, for she too was living in great uncertainty regarding the future and her reward; so she said:
"They don't know anything about that for sure in this life. They must wait until after they die before they can find that out."
In reply to Edwin's questions on prayer and what it means to be converted, Mrs. Miller explained that she had gone forward and given her hand to the minister a long time before and that after waiting a year's time he had told her she was in the church, and that joining church was what was meant by being converted.
"What do you mean by 'church'?" Edwin asked, feeling that he had found another word bearing upon the great subject that was perplexing him.
"Why the church is that big building down on the first four corners as you go into town. You can't miss it, for it's the only building there, and if you want to go down there with us some time to a meeting, you can. We have meeting, you know, every Sunday at the church."
But Edwin did not know, so he said, "Do you mean that you have prayer-meeting every Sunday?"
"Oh, no," she answered; "it isn't a prayer-meeting. We just get together and listen to the minister talk, but we always sing, and the minister prays for us."
"And don't you know, because you go to that church, that you will go to heaven when you die?" Edwin said in astonishment, but the answer was, "Oh, no; we don't really know anything about that."
As Edwin pondered over the matter that night when alone, he said, "If it took Mrs. Miller a whole year to get into the church, it will take me that long to get converted; but I can't see why she doesn't know any more than she does about getting to heaven."
Although Edwin could get no understanding in regard to the deep things that were upon his mind, he never for one moment thought of giving up in his efforts to search for them and to find out. In his heart he was still sure that there was a way to know these things, and although his friends had failed to discover them, his confidence in their sincerity was not in the least shaken.
"The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is long-suffering to usward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance" (2 Pet. 3: 9).
CHAPTER XV
A STAR OF HOPE
Come then, O care! O grief! O woe! O troubles! mighty in your kind; I have a balm ye ne'er can know, A hopeful mind.
—Vane.
During the weeks that followed, Edwin was very busy, but most of the time that he was at work about the chores or in the harvest-field where the men were gathering in the ripened grain or preparing for the threshers, he was reviewing in his mind the scene on eternity, the talks with Frank, the prayer-meeting, and what Mrs. Miller had told him in regard to the church.
"It will take me just a year from the time I start to go to church before I can become converted, or be able to pray the right kind of prayer," he said to himself; "and how much longer will it take before I know that I am on the road to heaven?" for regardless of Mrs. Miller's confident statement that nobody in this world could know of his future reward, Edwin was still of the opinion that people could. "It's just because they haven't got that far along, I guess," he reasoned, and he felt very sure that some of the people who were at the prayer-meeting must know.
Among the day-laborers who worked for Mr. Miller was a Mr. Kunz, who, although not a Christian, was a good, intelligent, and friendly fellow, and who lived only about a mile away. For this young man Edwin soon formed a great attachment, and as the weeks slipped by he occasionally found time and opportunity to visit him in his home. During one of these visits Mr. Kunz said in answer to Edwin's questions on prayer and the other things that were troubling him:
"I don't know very much about such things, Edwin, but I think that you can find out all you want to know if you will go to the big camp-meeting that is soon to be held on the camp-ground yonder," and with his finger Mr. Kunz pointed to a strip of woods that Edwin had heard spoken of as the "Camp-Ground."
"Why! what has the camp-meeting to do with such things?" Edwin asked, greatly surprized; for his idea of the camp-ground had been that it was a place for worldly amusements to be held, such as picnics, festivals, and ball-games, and it was hard for him to connect it with anything that he considered so solemn as prayer and getting an assurance of heaven.
"It has much to do with it, Edwin," Mr. Kunz replied. "The meeting is held by men and women who are converted and whose business it is to see that those who come to the meeting get converted. They will know what you need and will help you to understand how to get it."
"Do you mean," Edwin asked, his eyes opening wide in wonder, "that one can get converted right there at the meeting?"
"Yes, indeed, I mean it," Mr. Kunz replied, smiling at the eagerness of Edwin. "Every year many are converted, and it is for that very purpose that the meeting is held."
Poor Edwin! It was hard for him to make the words of Mrs. Miller and those of Mr. Kunz harmonize; but as he considered what his friend had said, a bright star of hope arose in his sky, and he at once decided that the thing for him to do was to attend that meeting. He asked Mr. Kunz how it was possible for those people to get any one converted in so short a time. As Mr. Kunz was not a Christian himself, he could only answer that he did not know how it was, but that somehow they did it. With this knowledge Edwin arose to return to the place where he was making his home.
It was Sunday afternoon early in August, but Edwin gave no heed to the warm rays of the sun. As he walked along the highway toward the home of his employer, his heart was light and happy, and as he was alone he swung his arms and clapped his hands in his delight. The thought that it was possible to become converted within a week's time, or eight days, as the meeting was to continue over two Sundays, seemed almost too good to be true. "But why not," he reasoned, "when there will be such able men and women at the meeting to do the work. At the church where Mrs. Miller was converted, it might have taken a year, for there was but one man to do the work; but at the camp-meeting there will be many."
Then he began to wonder how the work would be accomplished, and he concluded that it would take some kind of a scientific, systematic performance, together with a wonderful prayer, and that then, if the work had been properly done, an assurance that the person was converted and safe for heaven would come.
Suddenly as he walked along, he felt that he was not alone, but no one was in sight. Then these words seemed to be whispered in his ear:
"You had better not rejoice too soon, for your hope may be in vain. Your master may refuse to let you go to the camp-meeting; for you know how busy he is just now and how necessary that he should have your help."
But without the slightest fear Edwin answered in an audible tone:
"Yes, sir, I know that the work is pushing us hard just now, but this matter, to my mind at least, is of far greater importance than all the work on the farm. And then I do not expect my master to give me the time off to attend the camp-meeting. I'll tell him how much I dislike to leave him and that nothing else at such a time would induce me to go. Then I'll say that I will not only work for him as hard as I can the four weeks before I go, but that I will stay two weeks longer than I agreed to stay and will give him that work free, if he will only let me attend that meeting."
Had Edwin thought to ask Mr. Kunz if anyone could get converted in less than the eight days, he might not have been so determined to remain for the entire meeting; but, supposing that it would take at least that long for the operation, he did not want to run any chances of failure in his undertaking.
He had hardly finished telling what he would do in return for the favor that he was expecting to ask of his master, when again he seemed to hear the voice speaking. It said:
"Your week's absence from the farm at this busy time might cause your master so much inconvenience and loss that he would not even consider your offer of two extra weeks of labor in return."
"Under such circumstance I'd give him a month's time for the one week," Edwin answered bravely.
Then the voice suggested that he might be unable to leave under any circumstances, but at this suggestion Edwin exclaimed:
"Well, sir, then I shall go anyway! My matter is of far greater importance than anything that is connected with his farm, and I can not afford to miss that meeting. I can not give up a chance to get converted; for if I do and should die, I shall go into eternity unprepared. I will just tell him that I am going anyway and will take my chances on all the rest."
Because of this decision on Edwin's part, the tempter, who was Satan, the enemy of all who will do right, was forced to flee. Had Edwin listened to the suggestions longer or given the wicked one any encouragement to stay, there would have been no end to his arguments; for it is the business of Satan to discourage and dishearten all who seek to travel upon the highway that leads to heaven.
Thus, we find that Edwin in his ignorance had once more been guided by Divine Providence and that his heavenly Teacher had taught and aided him in his hour of need. God never fails when a soul is doing his best to please him. Failure comes, not merely from a lack of understanding, but from a lack of decision and purpose to go all the way at any cost. Every one who is honest with himself and anxious to do the will of his Maker will be shown the way.
"The Lord looketh from heaven; he beholdeth all the sons of men. From the place of his habitation he looketh upon all the inhabitants of the earth. He fashioned their hearts alike; he considereth all their works... Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy; to deliver their soul from death." (Psa. 33: 13-19).
CHAPTER XVI
A REVELATION ON TOBACCO
Who is it that will doubt The care of Heaven, or think the immortal Pow'rs are slow?
—Davenaut.
When Edwin entered the barn on the morning following his Sunday afternoon visit, he found that Mr. Miller was there ahead of him and that the large forkfuls of fresh hay for the horses' breakfasts were already tumbling rapidly from the large mow above.
"As soon as he comes down," thought Edwin, "I'll ask him about my going to that meeting, for it'll be as good a chance as I'll have." Then as he went about among the feed-bins, measuring grain for the stock, he rehearsed in his mind the little speech that he had planned, to see if it could be improved; but he decided that it was just what he should say, and with all his heart he hoped that his generous offer would be accepted. If possible, he wanted to go without causing any hard feelings on the part of his employer. Still he felt that he must go, and was resolved to go even if Mr. Miller should be stubborn.
It was really but a few minutes until Mr. Miller was descending the stairway that led from the loft above, but to Edwin in his anxious state of mind it seemed a long, long time. It was a little hard at first to break the silence, but finally he said:
"Mr. Miller, Mr. Kunz was telling me that the camp-meeting that is to be held on the camp-ground before long is for the purpose of getting people converted and that the work can be done in a week's time. I should like to go to that meeting, but I hate to leave you, for I know how much work there is to be done just now. But I feel that I must get converted as soon as I can, for I don't know how soon I may die. Now, I'll work for you as hard as I can before I go, and when I serve the time that I've agreed to stay, I'll work two weeks longer for you for nothing if you will only let me go to that meeting!"
Edwin had spoken excitedly, and every nerve in his body was on a tension when Mr. Miller said slowly:
"Why, yes, I guess you can go. To me this matter of getting converted doesn't seem so important, but I think I can manage the work all right if you want to go."
Edwin could scarcely believe his ears, and when he found that no second offer was necessary, it was as though a great and heavy burden had been rolled from his heart. During the days that followed he endeavored to live up to the agreement that he had made to work faithfully for his master. Many times he thought of the meeting, and as often he asked himself: "Is there anything special that I can do to help in this matter? Is there anything that I ought to do so as to be better able to go through the operation?"
He even asked Mrs. Miller if she could think of anything more that he could do, but she, failing to understand his meaning, said: "No, there isn't much that you can do. The things about the camp-ground are pretty handy, and it's only a few miles away, and I will see to it that your clothes are clean and mended." But still Edwin was not satisfied. Every day he reviewed his conduct to see if there was any possible way that he could improve himself.
One evening his divine Teacher again came to his assistance. It was after supper, and Edwin was still in the summer-kitchen. The smoking-hour, too, was over, and his pipe and tobacco were on the shelf. Mrs. Miller had retired to her room in the large house for the night, and her husband was making his usual rounds about the place to see that all the pasture-fences were secure.
Sometimes when the horses and cows were trying to rid themselves of the tormenting flies and mosquitoes, they would loosen the rails of the fences by rubbing their itching sides against them. Thus an opening would often be made, through which, if not repaired, the entire herd might find their way and do much damage both to themselves and to the large fields of waving corn that were growing all around the pasture-land. For this reason it was necessary after the animals had quieted down for the night to see that everything was in good condition, and Mr. Miller would trust no one to do this chore but himself.
Seated in his accustomed place on the bench near the end of the long dining-table, Edwin, with both elbows upon the table, was resting his face upon his hands. Again he was thinking of the one great subject about which he was so seriously concerned. Suddenly he seemed not to be alone. Looking about him as though expecting to see some person standing near, he heard a voice seemingly from above his head, and he was told to listen.
When the voice of the tempter had spoken discouragingly on the way from Mr. Kunz's, Edwin had felt no fear, but now a fear that caused him to tremble crept over him. But when the voice in tender, loving tones said softly, "Do not be afraid, for I am your friend," he turned with eagerness to listen.
"You want to be prepared for heaven," the voice continued. "Now, tobacco-using is unbecoming and unclean in my eyes, and before you can get on the highway that leads to heaven, you must stop using tobacco."
Until then Edwin had not been told by a living creature that tobacco was not a food, or that it was unfit for the use of mankind, or unclean in the sight of God; but as he listened to the words of his divine Guide and Teacher, the great truth of the matter sank deep within his heart, and he had no thought or desire to dispute them. Neither did he stop to think or reason that his best friends Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Frank Kauffman, and Mr. Kunz were all using tobacco. Instead he arose and, going to the mantel, selected all his smoking-materials there, opened the grate, and dumped them one and all upon the few living coals that were still smoldering among the ashes. He also brought from his room in the large house a box of cigars, some pipes and cigar-holders, and threw them in upon the other things.
When Edwin, all unconscious of the dense smoke and the strong odor that were beginning to arise from the old-fashioned chimney, returned to his place by the table, he resumed his former position on the bench and endeavored to continue his meditation as it was before the revelation.
Outside the night was perfect. A bright moon looked down from its lofty height among the stars and revealed the farmer repairing a place in the fence-corner where the rails had been loosened. Scarcely had he finished the task, when a glance from the hollow in which he was busy toward the hill upon which his home was located, caused him to gasp and shudder with fear. Then with his nose in the air he began to inhale and said, "Why, that smells like tobacco-smoke." The time of night and the fact that the smoke was coming in great volumes from the chimney of the summer-kitchen made him think that the kitchen was on fire and that the tobacco on the mantel-shelf was causing the smoke.
With anxious haste the excited old gentleman turned his steps toward the house and hurried forward in that direction. A few minutes later Edwin's surprize was no less than his employer's had been; for the latter, breathing heavily and nearly exhausted from the exertion of climbing the hill in such haste, threw open the door and rushed in. For the moment neither spoke, and then after a curious glance first toward the mantel and then at Edwin, who was still sitting calmly beside the table, Mr. Miller hastened to the grate and, lifting the lid, gazed in wonder upon the heap of burning tobacco.
That the old farmer was displeased and even vexed at what he saw could be easily detected in his features. Seeing that only Edwin's belongings were in the fire, he hastily demanded an explanation. Edwin replied that he had destroyed the tobacco and cigars because he did not feel that they were fit for him to use, but he said nothing about the manner in which he had discovered the fact. "I put them in the fire," Edwin continued, "because I did not want any one else to defile himself with what I could not use myself." Then seeing that Mr. Miller was taking a few of the cigars from the grate, he said, "If you take them out of the fire and use them, I shall not be to blame, but I have no more use for tobacco, and I will not give to any one else what I consider unfit to use myself."
To Edwin the use of tobacco had been a great source of comfort in his lonely hours, and he had endeavored to secure for himself every little convenience that would make its use more pleasant and cleanly. Aside from his pipes and cigar-holders, he had provided himself with a self-lighting match-safe for his vest-pocket, a self-closing rubber chewing-tobacco pouch that kept the tobacco clean and moist, and other things that appealed to his sense of cleanliness. His efforts had always been to do away with the filthy part connected with its use. In fact, he had often been commended for his neatness in regard to his tobacco; but when God said that it was unclean and unfit for the use of any one who was seeking to be on the highway to Heaven, he did not care for it at all. It was no trial to give it up, and he was glad to part with everything connected with its use.
Edwin's example should have been a real rebuke to Mr. and Mrs. Miller, but instead, they attributed his conduct to his ignorance and even made almost unkind remarks about his unnecessary waste. But this couple should not receive too much blame; for they, like Edwin, had never been taught that the use of tobacco was anything that should be avoided. In their home life they had all respect for Edwin, and in their efforts to help him in his ignorance to understand their views of the Christian life they had been honest and earnest.
Their displeasure at his destruction of his tobacco-supplies was due to the fact that they had never heard that tobacco was injurious to their bodies and not a food. In their minds Edwin's conduct was justly worthy of criticism. Had they known that the pleasure derived from the use of tobacco is like the sensation produced by scratching and rubbing the skin when one has a skin-disease, they might have understood. If it were not for the disease, no pleasure would result from the friction. Likewise, were it not for the disease of the tobacco-appetite, the use of tobacco would sicken instead of give pleasure. Tobacco contains a deadly poison. Its constant use will in time injure both body and mind past repair. In many cases it has been the direct cause of various diseases and insanity, and it may land the soul in hell.
"The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust... to be punished: but chiefly them that walk after the flesh in the lust of uncleanness" (2 Pet. 2:9, 10).
"Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof. Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God." (Rom. 6:12, 13).
CHAPTER XVll
THE CAMP-MEETING
And many learned to trust the Lord From precious truths that here were heard, While sounded out God's precious Word From pulpit and from altar too. By hearing of its meaning true, They learned to know that God would do Just as his Holy Word had said, In leading all that would be led.
—A. B. Gildersleeve.
Edwin was faithful to his promise regarding his employer's interests, and at the end of the month the farm-work was under such good control that both Mr. and Mrs. Miller had decided that they too could attend a part of the meeting. Several times Edwin had visited his friend Mr. Kunz, and upon one occasion he had noticed that where the roads crossed there was a large advertisement It read:
CAMP-MEETING AUGUST 31—SEPTEMBER 7
A series of religious open-air meetings will be held on the CAMP-GROUND AT MAPLE GROVE Everybody invited. Come and bring your friends. Camp-Meeting Committee.
But as he could not read the words, he was at a loss to understand what was meant by the sign; but when his friend explained that it was a notice of the camp-meeting of which he had been telling him, Edwin thought he comprehended, and he felt that it was indeed a wonderful thing.
When at last the morning of the thirty-first arrived, everything about the farm was in excellent condition to leave. Mrs. Miller brought Edwin his clean clothes that she had so carefully mended, and said: "On the camp-ground, Edwin, you will find a large boarding-tent. There you can buy your meals, and there will be some place given you to sleep at night. Of course, you can do as you like, but I wouldn't take along anything that I didn't need, for bundles will only be in your way." So when Edwin set out for the camp-ground, which was a distance of about five miles, he was empty-handed.
The day was perfect, and Edwin, dressed in a neat suit of clothes, straw hat, and colored shirt, appreciated it as such. The little birds and nature had lost none of their charms for him in all the trying scenes through which he had passed, but upon this occasion they were merely passing thoughts, for his mind was upon the meeting and his purpose in going to it.
From his experiences in the prayer-meetings Edwin had learned that he could not understand the words that were used in prayer, and he did not know why this was so; consequently the thought was suggested to his mind that now perhaps he would be unable to know when the operation through which he was soon to pass would begin.
Dinner was just over when he reached the grounds, but although the boarding-tent was pointed out to him by a man who was working hard to get his tent-pole in position, Edwin did not go to ask whether there would be a second table, partly from ignorance and partly because of his not being very hungry. He was more anxious to examine the place where the meetings were to be held. Mr. Kunz had given him a description of what to expect, but he wanted to see it all for himself. He soon discovered the crude structure that was to serve as a pulpit, and he found that it was just as his friend had described it. The rows of seats, which were simply some boards laid upon large blocks of wood, were also as he had expected to see them. There were enough of these rude benches to accommodate a large congregation. Only above the stand was there a covering, and Edwin wondered what would happen in case of a storm, but this also was but a passing thought.
Finding, by inquiring of a neighbor whom he happened to know and whose name was James Hass, that the meeting-hour was close at hand, Edwin suddenly realized that if he was to have an interpreter he must make haste in finding one, and as Mr. Hass did not seem to have any special duties, he asked the favor of him. After Edwin had explained that his object in coming to the meeting was to be converted and that all he wanted of Mr. Hass was that he inform him when to act, the two went at once and took their places on the front row of seats very close to the pulpit, and there they waited patiently while the rest of the people assembled. Judging that Mr. Hass would be as anxious to help him as Edwin had himself always been to do kind acts for others, he had no thought of doubting his interpreter's sincerity. After the bell had rung the minister soon arrived, and the meeting was begun.
The opening exercises were similar to those of the prayer-meetings that Edwin had attended and were in the German language. The minister arose and read as his text Titus 3:7: "That being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life." As he talked upon the hope of the righteous, his words would have been a great inspiration and encouragement to Edwin could he have understood them. The speaker went into detail regarding the sinful state of mankind and endeavored to make perfectly clear why it was necessary that a person should see his lost condition before he could become a Christian by being born again, but of course Edwin did not receive the least light.
At the close of the sermon the minister said, "If any one desires to be converted and become an heir to these promises, let him stand."
"It's time to act now," Mr. Hass whispered in Edwin's ear, not knowing that Edwin had thus far understood nothing of the sermon; but he explained his meaning by adding. "You must stand up and let him know that you want to be converted."
Without a moment's hesitation Edwin arose, and while he waited to be told what next to do, his heart was bounding with joy and bright anticipation, for he was positive that the wonderful operation of which he had been so long dreaming had at last actually commenced. He was sure that they were beginning with him all right, for they were commencing with his case on the very first day of the meeting. And, because he supposed that it would require the entire season of the camp-meeting to complete the work, he was very grateful to his interpreter for telling him what to do.
While standing thus in front of the audience, he turned about to see if there were any in the congregation that he knew, and to his surprize he discovered in one of the back seats his mother and a few others with whom he had been acquainted. With a thrill of satisfaction he again faced the minister, wondering if they too had come to the meeting to get converted. He did not know that his mother had lately taken up a "faith," as she called it, and by her old associates was being termed religious. But he believed that she must have had some good intention in coming to so sacred a place and that she would approve of the step he had taken.
He was still standing, facing the minister and wondering what the next step would be for him to take, when his interpreter explained that he must be seated. Edwin was greatly disappointed, for he desired that since the work had commenced it might go right on to its completion. Still he made no complaint, believing that the minister knew his business and would be faithful to him.
As Edwin sat down beside Mr. Hass, feeling that everything would come out all right in the end, he did not see the expression of disgust that shadowed his mother's face. Feeling that he was disgracing her by his ignorance, she would have enjoyed punishing him as she was in the habit of doing in his childhood, but this was beyond her power.
It was but a few minutes after Edwin had taken his seat until the meeting was dismissed, and the people scattered out over the grounds, a few to the pump, some to the boarding-house entrance, and others to their private tents. Edwin followed the largest crowd, for Mr. Hass had left him as soon as the meeting was dismissed, and he went to the boarding-house for his supper. He was very hungry, having had no dinner. After the meal was ended, he walked about over the grounds until it was time for the evening service. Very glad he was when he heard the meeting-bell ringing as Mr. Kunz had explained it would, and, finding his interpreter, he was soon again seated in front of the pulpit.
The evening's discourse was given in the English language, but it was no more enlightening to Edwin than the afternoon's sermon had been; still, by his expression of reverence and awe the congregation was not aware of this fact. At the close of the service Edwin was surprized to see that the entire congregation arose and remained standing as he had done in the afternoon. By this he supposed that all who were there had come to be converted. Then an altar-call was made, and Edwin's interpreter whispered, "That means to go forward."
Now, if Edwin had not already been in front of the entire audience, he would have gone forward; but supposing that the call was for some one else, he remained standing as he had done in the afternoon, but he made no move toward the altar. Still the singing continued and no one came forward, and as the minister's manner became more and more earnest, all eyes were turned toward him. Edwin became sorely troubled; for he feared that he was not doing all that he should do to get the best results, and he did not want to hinder the operation.
He saw the long vacant bench in front of the pulpit, but he had no way of knowing that "going forward" meant to kneel in prayer before the altar where the spiritual workers might pray with and help him to understand what it meant to be converted. For this ignorance he was misjudged, many supposing that he was stubborn and unwilling to bow before the altar in so humble a manner.
Noticing that Mr. Hass had occasionally spoken to him, no one else thought it necessary to do so. It seemed that night that the singing and invitations were continued an unusually long time, for Edwin's case was already creating an interest. The fact that he was a subject for prayer and the anxiety pictured upon his face made many long to see him move out and get an experience of salvation. And Edwin, feeling that something was expected of him and that he was losing much valuable time, became more anxious and concerned as the moments crept by.
It was another opportunity for his divine Teacher to act, and suddenly he seemed to feel the pressure of a strong hand placed upon his shoulder, and by an unseen power he was forced downward upon his knees directly in front of the altar. Although he could not have told how or why he was there, he was sure that it was the right thing for him to do, and immediately his worry was gone. Thus, unconsciously and mysteriously he was being led one step at a time, but always he was unable to know just what thing to do next.
Seeing Edwin kneeling at the altar, the minister soon came and, kneeling beside him, began to ask various questions, but to all that he said he received no answer, and he wondered at Edwin's silence. Then again Edwin was misjudged. Not knowing that it was because the young man did not understand the language, the minister arose, leaving Edwin still kneeling at the altar, and dismissed the meeting.
When Edwin realized that the people were scattering out over the grounds, he too arose from the altar and followed them. Then he remembered that Mrs. Miller had said that some place would be found for him to sleep, and as Mr. Meyer, one of Mr. Miller's neighbors, appeared among the crowd, Edwin made his wants known, and the kind old gentleman hastened to show him a good bed that he had prepared in his covered wagon. It had been made, he told Edwin, for another brother, but he could share it if he liked.
Edwin lost no time in getting into the place assigned him, but before sleep would come to his eyes, he had carefully reviewed in his mind all the events of the day. Charging his mind with the place where he had left off in the evening, he was determined to commence again right there at the very first opportunity that was offered him, and he was confident that he would somehow discover just what was the next best thing to do. Still he could not help wondering just what that step would be. He was still pondering upon these things when sleep came to his relief, and it was not until the early songs of the little birds peeled merrily forth through the grove the following morning that he awoke from his dreams.
Edwin was soon dressed and out upon the grounds, feeling thankful indeed that he was still permitted to live and enter upon another day of life. Only a few people were in sight, and he began to wonder how long it would be before breakfast would be ready. Then he thought he could hear the sound of singing such as he had heard in the meetings, and he listened carefully. "I can not afford," he told himself, "to miss anything that pertains to the meeting." He found that the sound was coming from the tent near where he had spent the night, and, walking up to it, he quickly lifted the flap that served as a door.
The tent was owned by Mr. Meyer, as was the wagon in which Edwin had spent the night, and the occupants of the tent, which were Mr. and Mrs. Kauffman, Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, and the Meyers, were having their morning worship together. To Edwin the little scene that met his gaze was a pleasant surprize; for he at once connected it with the prayer-meetings that had been held at the residence of his employer, as he recognized some of the people who had been at the meeting and whose countenances and earnestness in prayer he would never forget.
The worship was over, and the song to which Edwin had listened had been intended for the closing-song. Then they were to separate and each family go to their own tent for the morning meal. Edwin's appearance in the doorway changed their plans, and Mrs. Meyer, a dear old lady who had felt a deep interest in Edwin from the time she had first seen him in the prayer-meeting, arose and, offering her chair to Edwin, bade him enter and be seated, while she found a seat for herself on the foot of a temporary bed. Edwin needed no second invitation, for Mrs. Meyer had spoken in his mother-tongue, and he could understand what she said. Then she said, "Let us once more kneel down and pray," and they all knelt down, Edwin following the others' example.
As they prayed, Edwin once more watched their faces and carefully listened to every word, but not a word could he understand. He knew that the people were praying, but he did not know that they were praying for him.
So deeply was Edwin impressed with the earnestness of these people and so sincerely did he wish to join them in prayer, that he decided to watch carefully for small words that he could say regardless of their meaning and to repeat such words as a prayer for himself.
"If I take some words from a real prayer, they will be a part of a prayer, and it will not be as though I had learned the words from a book or from some person."
Thus, in his ignorance he listened and reasoned, and when he had found three small words, meaningless in themselves, he began to repeat them in audible tones. The fact revealed to Edwin while working among the stones in the field of grass that God had made a provision whereby man could be able in this life to understand upon which road he was traveling toward eternity had never left him, and although he had not as yet discovered anything at all about God's great plan of salvation, he was still certain that as soon as he was converted he would discover all the things he was longing to know. At that moment it seemed to Edwin that the only way to unravel Frank's definition of prayer and what it meant to be converted was to use some words from a real prayer until he could form a prayer of his own, and for this reason he had selected the three little words.
God, as a "discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart" (Heb. 4:12), saw the sincerity of Edwin's purpose, and the little unintelligible words reached his throne as though they had been an eloquent prayer, and the more he prayed the more desperately in earnest did he become.
Suddenly Edwin felt that his prayer must have taken hold on God, for a burden new and strange and different from anything that he had ever experienced semed to settle down upon him, and as it grew heavier and heavier, he felt that he was being crushed to the earth. Then a feeling of unworthiness that even the earth should hold him up and keep him from instant destruction in hell until God in his mercy would deliver him swept over him, and in his desperate condition he cried out until his voice was heard all over the camp-ground, and the people in crowds came to discover, if possible, what was taking place in Meyer's tent.
Then a strange and wonderful thing occurred. Heaven in all its beauty seemed to open to his view, and as the great burden rolled away he sprang to his feet, and while leaping about the tent he shouted for joy and thanked God because he was at last sure that he was on the road to heaven.
When at last Edwin could think about his surroundings, he saw that both "flaps" of the tent were open wide and that Mrs. Kauffman, Frank's mother, was earnestly preaching salvation from sin to an immense congregation. The latter had been drawn together by the sound of Edwin's agonizing cries, and although Edwin could not understand what she was saying, for she was speaking in the German language, he was sure that she was telling them of God's wonderful power and goodness to him. And as he looked about him, he wondered why the people and trees had never appeared so beautiful to him before.
When the curiosity of the crowd had been satisfied and Edwin was once more on the outside of the tent, he was surprized to find that all nature was beautified and that the songs of the birds were sweeter and more thrilling than he had ever known them to be. In recovering from his state of rapture, he realized that only one half day of the camp-meeting was over and that he not only was converted but had all the remainder of the meeting before him. It was his blessed privilege to enjoy the remainder of the time with all the rest of God's good people.
Such had been his breakfast, and when the meeting-bell began to ring, Edwin did not look for his interpreter; for he felt that since he had received that for which he had come to the meeting, it was no longer necessary to trouble Mr. Hass.
The all-seeing Father not only had understood Edwin's ignorance and taught him his need, but had helped him to know how to approach his throne in an acceptable manner.
"For he shall deliver the needy when he crieth; the poor also, and him that hath no helper ... and precious shall their blood be in his sight" (Psa. 72:12, 13).
CHAPTER XVIII
DISCOVERS THE EXISTENCE OF GOD'S WORD
O precious volume! only in thy pages We read the duty of all our race; Only thy sunbeams, shining through the ages. Reveal the wonders of saving grace.
—Daniel S. Warner.
Edwin had heard that there was such a book as the Bible, but that the Bible was a good book or of any more value in the world than the almanac or the "Book of Black Arts," that had been in the home of Mrs. Fitch, had never been suggested to his mind. So of course he did not know that the Bible was God's great message to the world. It was therefore a wonderful thought when the truth first dawned upon his mind.
The little group that had been present at the time of his conversion were the first to explain the matter to him, and when Mrs. Kauffman added, in words that he could understand, that the Bible contained the story of Jesus, she found that he had never heard that there had ever been any one on the earth by that name. It was a long story, but after hearing a little, Edwin was anxious to hear the remainder, and when his kind friend had finished speaking, he asked simply, "Was Jesus God's son and yet a man just as I am?"
"Yes," Mrs. Kauffman replied; "God made man in the first place, good and pure like himself, and he was made master of all that was in the world. In return for all these blessings, God demanded obedience and said that death to all the human race would be the penalty for his disobedience."
Then she related that man yielded to sin and fell from the holy state in which he was created, receiving as his penalty eternal banishment from God's presence, and she went on to tell of the provision that had been promised at the time of the fall.
"For more than four thousand years," she said, "this awful blight of sin continued; then Jesus, the provision that God had promised, came into the world to live a life of perfect obedience to God. And God sent to all the world by his Son the message that any and all who would follow Christ's example and live as he had told them at the first to live, would be forgiven and with his Son would become a part of his own great family (Heb. 5: 8,9). God in this way formed a bridge across the gulf that had been fixed between the sinner and his Maker. Now it is possible for any one who will, to cross the bridge and to enter heaven, but they must prepare for the journey before they die."
"Is all that in the Bible?" Edwin asked in astonishment; "and is it so that God's Son once lived upon this earth?"
"Yes, Edwin, it is true," Mrs. Kauffman answered. Then she read and explained Heb. 1:1-3 and 5:8, 9: "God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in times past unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; who being the brightness of his glory and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high." "Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered; and being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him."
She then told him that the place where Jesus had lived was far away from there, but that it was a country similar to our own. As she continued to talk about Jesus' home, Edwin exclaimed, "Oh, if only I could some time go and see that place for myself!" But when he thought of what such a trip would cost, his hope of ever getting there was destroyed. As Edwin considered the wonderful love that had prompted God and his Son to make so great a sacrifice for men and women who had been disobedient to his laws and commands, his heart was flooded with love for his Creator, and he cried:
"I knew that God must have made some way for man to know where he was going to land in eternity! Jesus is that provision. I can see it all now, and the assurance that we are going aright is that we are obedient to God?" he added with a rising inflection.
"Yes, it is obedience to God," Mrs. Kauffman explained. "But there is more to his plan than that. God wants us to love and reverence his Son for all that he has done. To do this we must ask God to forgive and to receive us back into his family for Jesus' sake. This is a true prayer when it comes from the heart."
"Is that the prayer that I prayed when I was converted?" Edwin asked, remembering the three little words that he had selected from one of the prayers in Mr. Meyer's tent.
"No," Mrs. Kauffman replied; "your prayer was different. It was really no prayer at all, but you see you did not understand these things or know how to pray. God knew what you wanted, because he understands the heart, and he knew that you would have asked for it in proper words if you could have understood."
Both Mr. and Mrs. Kauffman were very good to Edwin; for after he had left their neighborhood, they had learned something of his worth. Every day during the meeting they endeavored in some way to help him to understand what it means to be a Christian, and some of the wonderful things that are in the Bible. Much of their effort was lost, however, because of his ignorance, but it seemed that each time he was able to grasp a new thought that would correspond and link on to his own experience.
When the last day of the camp-meeting arrived, Edwin was sorry, for he felt that it had been a good place to be; but since he had received the benefit for which he had come, he was ready to return to the farm and fulfil his agreement with Mr. Miller and do all that he could to make up for the time that he had been away at the meeting. The Kauffmans, Itterlys, and Meyers had all given him pressing invitations to visit them in their homes, and with many happy remembrances of the meeting in his mind he was soon well on his way down the dusty road in the direction of his employer's home.
Again he noted the sweet songs of the little birds, and nature seemed all aglow with her beauty and grandeur; but as before, when he was on his way to the meeting, his mind was too full of weightier things to give outside things much thought or attention.
As he passed in through the open gate, he remembered that Mrs. Kauffman had said that in a certain city not more than ten miles away a Bible could be purchased, and, knowing that Mr. Miller occasionally went to that city to do his trading, he decided to ask him to get him a copy while there.
When he reached the summer-kitchen, he found the old couple partaking of their evening meal, and when Edwin had taken his accustomed place on the end of the bench, he was asked to give an account of the meeting and to tell how he had enjoyed himself while there. It was in glowing terms that Edwin described each little detail and the effect that the entire meeting had produced in his life. When he had finished, Mrs. Miller remarked:
"I'm glad, Edwin, that you have at last found out what it means to be converted. But of course you will have to join the church. You can go with us to our church every Sunday if you want to, and after you go a while they will tell you whether they want you to become a member."
Edwin gladly accepted the invitation, and then after telling what Mrs. Kauffman had said about the Bible, he asked Mr. Miller if he would buy him a copy the next time he went to the city. The latter said that he would do the best that he could. When the smoking-hour arrived, Edwin remained, but to visit, not to smoke. He cared no longer for his pipe, for the appetite for tobacco was all gone.
Although Edwin was disappointed a number of times because of his employer's forgetfulness to do his errand, a few weeks after the camp-meeting had closed, a little red leather pocket Testament in both the German and English languages was placed in his hand, and what a treasure it was! The price that Edwin had paid for it seemed very small indeed, but he did not know that the little volume was only a part of the wonderful book of which he had heard such thrilling accounts.
In the days that followed a great longing to read the sacred pages of his little Testament came into his heart, but even to have the little book in his possession was a great comfort, and very often he drew it from his pocket and pressed it to his heart while he was at his work.
On Sunday, Edwin never failed to go with Mr. and Mrs. Miller to the little church that was on the corner where the roads met and crossed, and he was still as earnest and anxious to learn as he had been at the camp-meeting; but the difficulty of the language was ever before him, and his extreme ignorance concerning the Bible was very noticeable.
At last when the subject concerning whether he should be accepted as a candidate for a member of their denomination arose, a lengthy discussion among the most prominent brethren followed, and it was decided in Edwin's hearing that he was far too ignorant on Bible lines ever to amount to anything among them. It would therefore, they said, be best to drop the matter at once.
"Think of it!" said one, "it doesn't stand to reason that any one with so little education and knowledge concerning the Bible could be so easily converted. He will be like a wave of the sea—lost and forgotten, in a very short time. Why, he can't even understand the preaching yet or the things that you try to explain to him! To my mind his case isn't worth bothering with."
After Edwin had heard this man's reasoning and had found that it was the decision of all, he was given an opportunity to speak for himself. He said:
"I'm sure that you are mistaken when you say that I will not stand. I know that I am very ignorant about what is in the Bible, but if you will just give me ten years, I will prove to you that God, who has brought me through all my past difficulties, and in spite of all my ignorance has directed me always in the right way, will never fail to teach me the next best thing to do."
After Edwin's speech it was decided that it would be all right for him to attend the meetings, but that they could not accept his name even on probation.
It was with a sad heart the following day that Edwin went about his work upon the farm. He could not understand why the brethren had doubted his ability to stand nor their reason for not allowing him the same privilege that was given to others, simply because he was ignorant and his conversion had not required so long a time as they were in the habit of allowing their more enlightened members. "God surely knew what he was doing," he reasoned, "and I believe that my life is as precious to him as that of any other man, though he may know a great deal more than I do."
All day long he was burdened and sad, and when night came, instead of resorting to the summer-kitchen as had been his habit for so long, he went to his room immediately after the evening chores were done. Falling upon his knees and taking from his pocket his little red Testament, he opened it and laid it upon the chair before him. Then as tears blinded his eyes, he buried his face in his hands and, bending reverently over the little volume, made his request known to God.
"O God!" he cried, not caring by whom he was heard, "you who have been so faithful to me in the past, in helping me out of all my difficulties, help me now! I have learned that this little book is to make me know what you want me to do, so help me to be able to read what is in it."
To Edwin this task was no greater for him than others had been that he had mastered, and with perfect faith, believing that God would open his understanding sufficiently for him to comprehend the meaning of all that he needed to know, he began the work of learning what he should have known many years before.
With his finger Edwin carefully traced in several words the outline of the letters, until suddenly a few of the characters that he had learned from the school-teacher when, in his early childhood days, he was sent to school as protector of his younger cousins, returned to his mind, and although they had been meaningless then and had been long since forgotten, they corresponded perfectly with those before him. Thus he continued to labor long into the night, and during the days and evenings that followed, whenever there was a moment to spare, a moment that he could feel was his own, he endeavored to locate the same letters in other words. But although he could locate several of the letters, he did not know their names.
Later on, after the corn-husking was done, Mr.
Miller decided that he could get along with the work by himself, and Edwin began looking for another place. When the word became circulated that Edwin was wanting a job, several opportunities to get into good families were offered him, but he would decide on none of them until he had spent a few weeks in visiting the kind friends whom he had met at the camp-meeting.
During Edwin's stay with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Edwin had learned to respect them very highly, and their kindness and sympathy meant very much to him, but he felt that he was sadly misunderstood by them both and that their judgment was not altogether good. He was sad, too, because of the attitude of the church-members toward him, but his only thought was to prove to all that he was sincere, and although so coldly held off by some he continued to attend the meetings regularly.
On the morning of his departure, Mrs. Miller in her motherly way invited him to visit them occasionally, and after thanking them kindly for all their interest in him, Edwin left for the home of Mr. and Mrs. Kauffman. Frank Kauffman was at his mother's home when Edwin arrived, and when he saw the welcome that she gave to the one whom she had so severely condemned, because of the influence she was afraid he might have upon her son, he could not help smiling. He had heard that Edwin had given up the use of tobacco, and it was not long until he learned from Edwin himself his reasons for doing so. Frank was much impressed by the story and felt that perhaps Edwin was right about the matter, and he would have been glad to give up the use of tobacco himself, but the power of habit was great, and the poisonous nicotine was so working in his system that his strength of decision was limited.
Edwin's stay with the Kauffman's was prolonged to several months; for these people, finding that Edwin was so anxious to learn to read his Bible, began at the foundation and taught him both the English and the German alphabets and instructed him how to use them in forming words. Until then Edwin had not understood the difference in the languages, and, finding that the words used in prayer and preaching, were not a heavenly language as he had supposed, but were meant for any one to speak, he decided at once to master them both. He reasoned that what he could not comprehend in the one language he might in the other, and his progress in the undertaking was so rapid that it was marvelous. |
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