Grand old man, he followed closely in the footsteps of his Master, and
accomplished much more good than many famous ones who wander far from
the precepts of the lowly Nazarene, and deliver featureless sermons
to unresponsive, gaily-attired Dives under the arches of great
cathedrals.
But the trail of the serpent is everywhere found, even in this
sequestered spot. There was, in the outskirts of the town, the
inevitable rumshop, fed, it was said, by an illicit still in the
woods, and there as usual Satan held high carnival among families
dead in trespasses and sins. There we assayed to hold temperance
prayer-meetings, but they loved darkness rather than light, and we
cast our pearls before swine, who turned and rent us.
On one occasion we tried to hold services in the little old deserted
schoolhouse, and found it, much to our surprise, packed with the
inhabitants of Sodom; a more villainous looking crowd I never saw not
even in darkest New York. Beetle-browed, mop-haired men, whose faces,
if tapped, would apparently give forth as much fire-water as a rum
barrel.
For a short time they listened to the singing: but when the aged
minister attempted with earnest words to inspire to a better life it
seemed as if all the fiends from heaven that fell, had pealed the
banner cry of hell. Then a decayed cabbage struck him full in the
face, ancient and unfragrant turnips and potatoes filled the air, our
little band crowded around to shield him, but unmercifully assailed,
we were obliged to wield the chairs vigorously over their heads to
fight our way to the door.
One of our number left to guard the sleigh, luckily had it ready, in
we jumped and drove for our lives, pursued by invectives too horrible
to mention.
This attack was inspired by the keeper of the den of iniquity as he
feared he would be deprived of his evil gains, and that night he
rewarded them with unlimited free drinks until they drowned their
consciences in a prolonged debauch.
One of my patrons became my implacable enemy because I gave his
chip-of-the-old-block son some much merited discipline. This man,
Sampson by name, was the most malignant fellow I ever saw. One night
when with my pupils I was enjoying a skating party, he appeared with
some "sodomites" threatening to chuck me under the ice, and they might
have succeeded but for two of my friends who, when the enemy were
close upon my heels, suddenly stretched a rope across their path which
tripped them up, nearly breaking their heads in the concussion with
the ice.
On another occasion, several of us crawled into a long hole to explore
a cave in the woods. While laboriously making our way on all fours,
carrying torches, we were suddenly horrified by fiendish hisses.
Visions of snakes danced before our minds, the girls shrieked, the
torches fell in our frantic scramble and we were left in Stygian
darkness. A mocking, demoniacal laugh was heard, winged creatures
dashed against our faces scratching and lacerating.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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