The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)Sherer, Moyle
History
The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Sherer, Moyle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
As with advancing years the strength necessary for manual labour
declined, there came such little improvement of circumstances as
enabled the worthy man to dispense with such exertion; and the toil of
Peter was lightened by the assistance of a younger labourer. Noble
himself walked regularly every Sunday of his life to attend divine
service at a small village church distant from his cottage about a
mile and a half; and old Peter and he sat together in the back seats
under the gallery. His wife being feeble on her limbs, and dim of
sight, remained at home; and it was Noble’s pleasure to bring back to
her the text of the sermon and the matter of the discourse.
This church was served by a Puritan divine, who held a benefice five
miles on the other side of it, and rode over to the hamlet for one
full service in the afternoon. The lord of the manor was a nobleman
who had been distinguished during the war; and who, after the close of
hostilities in Ireland and the establishment of the protectorate, had
retired to this mansion and estate, where he led a very secluded life,
seldom stirring beyond his park wall. But he was a pious and
charitable man, well spoken of by his servants, and by the poor of
the village as a Christian master and a considerate landlord.
There was something very fine and very affecting in the consideration,
that an aged minister, ejected for conscience-sake, should sit every
Sabbath as a humble and loving Christian listener, under the ministry
of one young enough to be his son, and to find in him a helper of his
joy.
The young man knew not whom it was his privilege thus to strengthen
and comfort; for there was a meekness and a shy reserve about Noble,
and an enjoined silence to Peter, which repressed and baffled
curiosity. They just knew so much as that one was a deprived
clergyman; but whether he had been turned out for scandal, or what his
story might be, none cared to discover more particularly;--he was an
accustomed sight.
It so chanced that, one Sunday, when the congregation was assembled at
the usual hour the young minister was not forthcoming. All persons had
taken their seats. The lord of the manor was in his pew; and, after a
long pause, the singing was begun, in the expectation that perhaps he
would yet arrive time enough to conduct the worship; but the psalm was
concluded, and he did not appear.
There was an evident disappointment on the countenances of all the
people; and the grave nobleman, after leaning over his pew, and
summoning the clerk, decided to sit down again, and linger yet a
little time. Another psalm was given out and sung through,--still no
minister arrived.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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