Christian fiction; Circuit riders -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Spouses of clergy -- Fiction
But this was only the beginning of social and spiritual surprises
through which I passed. There was no culture among the people. They
looked like the poor kin of the angels in Heaven, and they really did
live so far out of the world that no bishop had ever seen them. I was
divided between horror and admiration at their soul-stretching
propensities, and it is difficult to describe the shock with which I
faced the perpetual exposure of their spiritual nakedness. It was a
naive kind of religious indelicacy, like the unguarded ways of very
young children.
Brother Jimmie Meadows would confess to the most private faults in an
experience meeting, and, if he did not, Sister Meadows would do it for
him. They lacked the sense of humor, which, being interpreted, is a
part of the sense of proportion. They shrank from the illuminating
quality of wit as if it were a sacrilege--this auto-seriousness was
even an important part of William's character. He put on solemnity
like a robe when he was in the throes of thought.
The deadly monotony of Christian country life where there are no
beggars to feed, no drunkards to credit, which are among the moral
duties of Christians in cities, leads as naturally to the outvent of
what Methodists call "revivals" as did the backslidings of the people
in those days. So it came to pass, that year at Redwine, when the
"crops were laid by" William faced his first revival, and I faced
William. Spiritually speaking, we parted company. He passed into a
praying and fasting trance, and my heart was nearly broken with the
loneliness, for praying and fasting did not agree with me, and William
seemed to recede in some mystical sense hard to define, so that I
became a sort of unwilling grass-widow.
The revival was to begin at Redwine, when suddenly the rumor reached us
that Brother Tom Pratt, a prominent member, had back-slided, and that
nothing could be done there in a spiritual way until he was reclaimed.
He was a large, fair, goat-lipped man with a long straw beard hanging
under his chin, and he was said to be mightily gifted in prayer. But
his besetting sin was strong drink, and he had recently been drunk.
The simplicity with which William went about reclaiming him as a part
of the preparation for the coming revival seemed to me almost too
premeditatedly spiritual.
[Illustration: Brother Tom Pratt, a Prominent Member, Had Backslided.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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