American fiction -- 19th century; Artists -- Fiction
"I call this frivolous assemblage to order," cried the youth,
turning around to his companions. "If any one of our number has
ever attended a prayer-meeting, let him hold up his right hand.
I use the masculine pronoun, because the man always embraces the
woman--when he gets a chance."
No hands were held up.
"Heathen, every mother's son of us," cried the first speaker.
"The daughters are angels, of course, and don't need to go to
prayer-meetin', as he of the cowhide sandals just termed it. But
for the novelty of the thing, and for the want of something better
to do, I move that we all go to-night. If it should be borous,
why, we can come out."
The proposition pleased the fancy of the party, and with gay words
and laughter that scarcely ceased at the vestibule, they entered
the place of prayer and lighted down among the sober-visaged,
soberly-dressed worshippers like a flock of tropical birds.
Ida reluctantly followed them. At first she half decided to walk
home alone, but feared to do so. She who had resolved on facing
the "King of Terrors" shrank, with a woman's instinct, from a lonely
walk in the starlight.
She sat in dreary preoccupation a little apart from the others and
paid no more heed to the opening services than to their ill-concealed
merriment.
the minister was away on his August vacation. Prayer-meetings
were out of season, and very few were present. The plain farmer
was trying to conduct the service as well as he could, but it was
evident he would have been much more at ease holding the handle of
a plow or the reins of his rattling team, than a hymn-book. Dr.
Watts and John Wesley might have lost some of their heavenly serenity
could they have heard him read their verses, and certainly only a
long-suffering and merciful God could listen to his prayer. And
yet rarely on the battle-field is there more moral courage displayed
than plain Thomas Smith put forth that night in his conscientious
effort to perform an unwonted task; and when at last he sat down
and said, "Bruthren, the meetin' is now open," he was more exhausted
than he than he would have been from a long day of toil.
"The Lord looketh at the heart" is a truth that chills many with
dread, but it was a precious thought to Farmer Smith as he saw that
his fellow church members did not look very appreciative, and that
the gay young city-people often giggled outright at his uncouth
words and manner.
Ida would have been as greatly amused as any of them a few weeks
since, but now she scarcely heard the poor man's stumblings, or
the wailing of the hymns that were mangled anew by the people. She
sat with her eyes fixed on vacancy, thinking how dreary and empty
the world had become; and it seemed to her that religion was the
most dreary and empty thing in it.
"What good can this wretched little meeting do any one?" she thought,
more than once.
She was answered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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