Charlemont; Or, The Pride of the Village. a Tale of KentuckySimms, William Gilmore
General
Charlemont; Or, The Pride of the Village. a Tale of Kentucky
Simms, William Gilmore
Kentucky -- Fiction
“Call me not Mr., I pray thee. Call me plain John Cross, if it please
thee not yet to apply to me that sweeter term of loving kindness which
the flock of God are happy to use in speech one to another. If thou wilt
call me Brother Cross, my heart shall acknowledge the bonds between us,
and my tongue shall make answer to thine, in like fashion. Oh, Alfred
Stevens, may the light shine soon upon thine eyes, that thou may'st know
for a truth how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in the
peace of of the Lord, and according to his law. I will, with God's
grace, bring thee to this perfect knowledge, for I see the way clear
because of the humility which thou hast already shown, and thy yielding
to the counsels of the teacher. As for what thou sayest about charges to
the brethren, let that give thee no concern. Thou shalt lodge with old
Brother Hinkley, who is the pattern of good things and of, holiness
in Charlemont. His house is more like unto the tent of the patriarch
pitched upon the plain, than the house of the dweller among the cities.
No lock fastens its doors against the stranger; and the heart of the
aged man is even more open than the doorway of his dwelling. He standeth
in the entrance like one looking out for him that cometh, and his first
word to the messenger of God, is 'welcome!' Thou shalt soon see the
truth of what I say to thee, for even now do we look down upon his house
in the very midst of the village.”
If the scruples of Stevens still continued to urge him against
accepting the hospitality of the old patriarch of whom he had received
a description at once just and agreeable, the recollection of the
village-maiden whom he had gone aside from his direct path of travel,
and made some even greater departures from the truth, to see, determined
him at length to waive them; particularly when he ascertained from his
fellow-traveller that he knew of nobody in Charlemont who accommodated
strangers for money.
Stevens was one of those persons who watch the progress of events, and
he resolved, with a mental reservation--that seems strange enough in the
case of one who had shown so little reluctance to say and do the thing
which he could not maintain or defend--to avail himself of some means
for requiting, to the uttermost farthing, the landlord, to whose
hospitality he might be indebted during his stay in Charlemont.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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