The Minister's Charge; Or, The Apprenticeship of Lemuel BarkerHowells, William Dean
General
The Minister's Charge; Or, The Apprenticeship of Lemuel Barker
Howells, William Dean
Boston (Mass.) -- Fiction; Clergy -- Fiction; Poets -- Fiction
“Oh, I don't say certainly. Perhaps not. But if he were, what should
you say was the best thing for him to do? Remain a servant; cast his
lot with these outcasts; or try to separate and distinguish himself from
them, as we all do? Come; we live in the world,--which isn't so bad,
though it's pretty stupid. He couldn't change it. Now, what ought he to
do?”
Sewell mused a while without answering anything. Then he said with a
smile, “It's very much simpler to fit people for the other world than
for this, don't you think?”
“Yes, it is. It was a cold day for the clergy when it was imagined that
they ought to do both.”
“Well,” said Sewell, rising to follow his friend to the door, “I will
come to see Barker, and try to talk with him. He's a very complicated
problem. I supposed that I had merely his material prosperity to provide
for, after getting him down here, but if I have to reconcile him to the
constitution of society!----”
“Yes,” said Evans. “I wish you'd let me know the result of your labours.
I think I could make a very incisive article on the subject. The topic
is always an attractive one. There is nobody who doesn't feel that
somebody else is taking on airs with him, and ought to have his comb
cut. Or, if you should happen to prove to Barker that his ignominy is in
accordance with the Development Theory, and is a necessary Survival,
or something of that sort, don't you see what a card it would be for us
with the better classes?”
They went downstairs together, and at the street door Evans stopped
again. “Or, I'll tell you what. Make it a simple study of Barker's
mind--a sort of psychological interview, and then with what I've been
able to get from him we can present the impression that Boston makes
upon a young, fresh, shrewd mind. That would be something rather new,
wouldn't it? Come! the _Afternoon_ would make it worth your while. And
then you could work it into a sermon afterwards.”
“You shameless reprobate!” said Sewell, laying his hand affectionately
on his friend's arm.
There was nothing in Lemuel's case that seemed to him urgent, and he did
not go to see him at once. In the meantime, Fast Day came, and Lemuel
got away at last to pay his first visit home.
“Seems to me ye ain't lookin' over and above well, Lem,” was the first
thing his mother said to him, even before she noticed how well he was
dressed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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