Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"He got the huckleberry, as we used to say in college, on that
particular text, and it has stuck by me ever since. The dominie fired
him out after a fortnight, and one day said to me: 'Jack, why don't
_you_ study for orders and take up the succession here? You are a
bookworm, and the life seems to be to your liking.' Of course, I
declined very vigorously in the beginning, though offering to stay on
so long as the dominie needed my help. I used to do lay reading on
Sundays when he was too feeble. Gradually, 'the idea of the life did
sweetly creep into my study of imagination.' The quaintness of the
place appealed to me. And here was a future all cut out for me: no
preliminary struggle, no contact with vulgar people, no cut-throat
competition, but everything gentlemanly and independent about it. I
had strong doubts touching my theology, and used to discuss them with
my uncle; but he said,--and said rightly, I now think,--'You young
fellows in college fancy that it's a mighty fine, bold thing to effect
radicalism and atheism, and the Lord knows what all; but it won't
stick to you when you get older. Experience will soften your heart,
and you'll find after awhile that belief and doubt are not matters of
the pure reason, but of the will. It is a question of _attitude_.
Besides, the church is broad enough to cover a good many private
differences in opinion. It isn't as if you were going to be a
blue-nosed Presbyterian. You can stay here and make your studies with
me, instead of going into a seminary, and when you are ready to go
before the bishop I'll see that you get the right send-off.' In short,
here I am! My uncle died two years after, when I was already in
orders, and I've been here ever since."
"I should think you would get lonely sometimes, and make a strike for
a city parish," I suggested.
"Why--no, I don't think I should care for ordinary parish work. The
beauty of my position here is its uniqueness. In winter I keep the
church open for the Aborigines till they get snowed up and stop
coming, and then I put down to New York for a month or two of work at
the Astor Library. Last winter I held service for two Sundays running
with one boy for congregation. Finally I announced to him that the
church would be closed until spring."
"What in the----: well, what do you find to do all alone up here?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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