A Tale of the Kloster: A Romance of the German Mystics of the CocalicoJabez, Brother
Religion
A Tale of the Kloster: A Romance of the German Mystics of the Cocalico
Jabez, Brother
Christian fiction; Ephrata Cloister -- Fiction; Seventh-Day Baptists -- Fiction
Indeed, I doubted not he could endure the journey as well as most of us,
for he was a hardy, active boy, and with our healthful life had never
known a day of sickness. I liked no better to be separated from him than
did he, and had he quietly taken my suggestion to remain I had been
greatly disappointed; but when I broached the matter to my brother
pilgrims they at first demurred, and yet they loved my boy, for with
all his mischievousness he was always ready and willing to do the
bidding of any of them. Finally, upon my persuasions, they acknowledged
it would be safe for him to make the journey. Accordingly I prepared a
little pilgrim's staff for him and saw that he had a stout pair of
sandals, and with a little bag of provisions for him we started out at
six o'clock of that Sabbath evening on our journey, the assembled
Brotherhood and Sisterhood watching us from Mount Zion until we were out
of sight.
But once fairly upon our way, we walked, as was our custom, bareheaded
and silently, in single file, Prior Onesimus at the head and myself at
the rear, all except Sonnlein, who neither kept silence nor in file,
almost exhausting me with his innumerable questions; at one moment he
would be ahead of us and the next in the rear, now stopping to gather a
handful of nuts that had dropped from the trees along our way or else to
pluck the wild grapes that hung in royal purple from the luxuriant
vines, and then rushing after me, tempting me to share his feast.
At first our course led us through the settlements of our German
brethren in the eastern part of Lancaster County; thence among our
English brethren in Nantmill, where we stopped for a few days and held
several missionary meetings. From the Falls of French Creek we took the
road among the German families; thence across the Schuylkill to the
German settlements along the roadside leading to Germantown. A somewhat
prolonged stop was made with our brother mystics on the Wissahickon,
among whom we found much solace and comfort; thence a short visit to the
brethren of the faith in the city of Philadelphia; thence our missionary
tour took us to the Pennepack.
Thus far our pilgrimage had taken us mainly among the brethren of our
own belief, and yet wherever we went our bare, cropped heads, long
beards, white cloaks and cowls, our silence and manner of traveling,
attracted considerable attention and even ridicule and grossest insults.
Sonnlein, however, being never late in informing the curious ones who we
were; and while I admonished him frequently against his too great
freedom with strangers, there is no doubt that by his frankness he saved
us much annoyance, for I have long ago learned that one will be forgiven
much if he only be open and candid, no matter how wicked he be; but if,
like a turtle, he keep within his shell and mind his own business like a
good, honest turtle, every idler and good-for-naught must hurl stones at
him to crack his shell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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