CHAPTER III

A CONVERSION THAT FAILED

It has always been a source of wonder to me why so many people change their religion, for, although I have never had the time, opportunity, or perhaps the inclination, to study theology in any part of its ramifications, and have never even read the Thirty-Nine Articles which caused the fancy religionists not only to desert their Church, but has now enabled them, through their co-operation with rebels, atheists, socialists and a gang of men who, so long as they can hang on to power, are ready to play any dishonourable game, to gratify their rancorous spite in looting the said Church, my astonishment still remains. Yet very many people of all classes are frequently chucking up the faith of their fathers and joining another. No doubt some of these are actuated by sincere religious convictions, but I think the majority of them are prompted by the desire in some way to better themselves in this life. For instance, to remove an obstacle that prevents them from making an advantageous marriage, to succeed to property, to advance themselves in society or to make money. Still, there are plenty of people who swap their fire insurance policy for other motives, not even so respectable as the few I have enumerated, and one sinner told me that, having been a very bad hat during early manhood, he had joined the R.C. Church as he had been assured that by doing so he had cleaned his slate of the accumulation of his past sins and had thereby choused Old Nick. This may or may not have been the case, but anyhow he was very ready to contract fresh obligations with the Old Gentleman, as before we parted he managed to swindle me out of a fiver; so that after mature consideration I came to the conclusion that he was not a brand that was likely to be snatched from the burning, thanks to his change of religion, but was still a very bad hat indeed.

Now anyone can understand, although he may not admire, a man who, prompted by greed, love or interest, changes his mode of worship. But the man who I am going to yarn to you about was not an individual of this class, and, moreover, although he was most charitably disposed, and always ready to plank down a cheque for any good purpose, yet as a rule he did not pan out on religious matters at all, and knew as much about dogma as a chimpanzee does about snowballing. But let me start the yarn from the beginning.

During the latter eighties, when I was adjutant of the D.F.H., and was located at De Toits Pan, there lived on the same diamond diggings a man who carried on the trade of baker, and whom I shall designate by his Boer name of Davy. Now Davy had begun life as a ship's baker, and having followed the sea for many years had drifted up to the diamond fields in the early times, had started in at his trade and had prospered exceedingly, so that when I knew him he was a rich man, and justly very popular with the diggers. In person he was of medium height, thick-set, with great rounded shoulders, on which was stuck, for he had not much neck to boast of, a huge round head that, owing perhaps to the effects of early piety, was as devoid of hair as a Little Englander is of patriotism. As regards manners, he was rather brusque, and until he came to know you was a bit repellent, and was totally uneducated. But he was a white man right through, and many a score of women and children would have had to go hungry to roost, during hard times, had good old Davy cut off supplying bread, although the betting might be decidedly against his ever pouching a single ticky (threepenny piece) of their money. Now, this old worthy, who as a rule never attended any Gospel Mill, and was as devoid of theologic controversy as one of his loaves of bread, nevertheless, whenever he indulged in an occasional burst always developed the idiosyncrasy that he must change his religion, and would promptly set to work to do so. What faith he had been brought up in originally (if any) I know not, and I doubt if he knew himself, but he tried all there were on the diamond fields (and owing to the polyglot crowd located on the diggings there were many), with the exception of the Hebrew, from which ancient cult Davy shied, as he always affirmed there was an obstacle in the way, which required to be removed before he could become a proselyte in the Synagogue.

Well, one fine day shortly after Davy had exhausted the last available religion, De Toits Pan was invaded by a commercial traveller in a brand-new fancy faith, the name of which I forget, but it was one freshly imported from America, and was guaranteed to be something quite new, slick and up-to-date. In fact, its votaries might reckon on a first-class ticket up to heaven, without any detention at the custom-house, while, provided they subscribed liberally, they might even expect to be transmitted there in a private fiery balloon. Now I never knew the ritual of the band of brothers, as they called themselves, but I knew it was necessary for a recruit, upon his initiation, to be soused over head and ears in water, which was meant to typify that all past sins would be washed away, although I guess it would have taken more than one ducking in cold water to have made an impression on the case-hardened iniquities of some of the converts who joined the movement. Yes, by gad! it would have required scalding water, soft soap, soda, and a wire scrubbing-brush to have shifted their moral delinquencies. Still, if the tubbing did not purify their immortal souls, it had a salutary effect on their hides, so we can pass that part of the performance as O.K.

Now, this missionary, spiritual bagman, or call him what you like, was at the first go-off of his raid very successful, doing a great business and roping in very many proselytes, so many, in fact it made the sky-pilots in the older established firms buck up, and look askance. He laboured, however, under one very great disadvantage--viz. there was no building in De Toits Pan procurable, large enough to contain the necessary water tank, so that until one could be built the numerous recruits had to be taken on the Sunday to the Modder River, and be ducked therein. Well, just as the new movement was in the hey-day of its popularity, good old Davy went on one of his rare jamborees, and, _faute de mieux_, at once fell into line, signed on as a brother, and on the following day (Sunday) went to the Modder River with a number of other neophytes, male and female, to undergo their preliminary water cure. Now it chanced that, on the same Sunday evening, I happened to be chatting in the De Toits Pan club, when all of a sudden in dashed Davy in a great state of perturbation. Rushing up to the bar he demanded a double-headed whisky straight, which he swallowed like an oyster, then promptly held out his glass for another supply.

"Hullo, Davy," quoth one of those present, "you seem to be gulping down the cratur with unction. I thought you would have been nursing your new religious doctrines at this time of night."

Davy answered him not, but with a growl ordered the barman to refill his glass.

"Why, Davy, what's the matter?" queried another. "What have they been doing to you to capsize you in this fashion, and why don't you take water with your pongello?"

"Water, indeed," snarled Davy. "I sha'n't want no water for another month." And he made a motion to the barman to pass the bottle.

"Here, ease up, Davy," said I. "You've had enough. Leave the whisky alone, and come over here. Sit down and tell us how you got on this afternoon at the washing fête."

"Whoi," grumbled the old fellow, whom, it seemed, the third nobbler had somewhat pacified, as he took the offered chair and proceeded to light his pipe, "I didn't get on at all, and this new-fangled religion ain't worth a cuss. 'Tain't one as any man with any common-sense 'ud cotton to, and as for the sky-pilot, he's jist as hignorant as a howl."

"Well, well, tell us all about it. Did you imbibe the faith?"

"Faith, be d----d!" he growled. "I didn't imbibe nothing except a gallon or two of Modder River water." And he expectorated with disgust. However, after he had been smoothed down a bit, and had had another tot, he bucked up and related his tribulations as follows:--

"You see, boys," said he, "I went down to the Modder River this afternoon, with a large party of other converts. The shepherd, as 'e calls his blooming self, 'e comes along too, and brings two or three of the sharps as 'elps 'im. Well, when we got there we finds a couple of tents pitched: one for the ladies, and one for us men, to take off our duds in. Well, after a bit, one of the sharps, he comes to me, and sez he: 'Brother, we's going to commence along with you.' So 'e shows me into the tent, and sez he: 'Brother, remove your gaudy 'abiliments and put on this 'ere garb of simplicity.' And with that 'e 'ands me a sort of a nightgown which came to about me knees. As soon as I was togged out, feelin' a bit ashamed of meself rigged out like that, he leads me down to the river bank and there was the shepherd, as 'e calls hisself, long, thin, herring-gutted devil, standing up to his middle in the water. 'Enter, brother,' he sings out to me, 'and 'ave your manifold sins swabbed away.' I wades in and whin I reaches 'im the water took me up to the chin. He begins his palaver, and before I knowed where I was 'e puts his two hands on me shoulders and ducks me bloomin 'ead under. He fair took me by surprise 'e did, or I'd 'ave took an extra breath of air. As it was, I lost me footin', and 'ad to struggle to come up. Me old skull-cap comes off and I got me 'ead above water, but no sooner did 'e see me old bald pate appear than he shoved it down agin, and kep' on a-doing so until I was near drownded. Should 'ave bin, I believe, 'ad I not managed to giv' 'im a punch in the bread-basket which shut 'im hup like a pair of scissors, and then I scrambles out and runs to the tent nigh water-logged. Presently along 'e comes, and sez 'e to me, sez 'e: 'Brother, wherefore did you assault me while in the water?' And I sez to 'im: 'You ain't no brother of mine. What for did yer try to drown me?' 'Brother,' sez 'e, 'I knew not you was so bald, and when yer 'ead appeared above the surface of the river I laboured under the delusion it was another portion of yer hanatomy, and so as to prevent what might 'ave become an indecent hexhibition I pressed it hunder agin and continued to do so.' 'Well,' sez I, 'yer religion may be a darned foine one, and yer may be a darned foine shepherd, but whin yer don't know the difference between a conwert's bows and 'is starnpost 'tain't no religion for me, and I 'ud scorn to belong to it or own yer as a brother or shepherd, so ye and yer 'ole gang can go to h----.' And with that I left 'im and came 'ome as fast as I could git."

Now although I think that on this one occasion old Davy's plea, like himself, was a good un, and that he, under the aforementioned circumstances, was fully justified in doubting the _bona fides_ of this fancy religion through the lack of acumen and also the gross ignorance on the part of the shepherd, still, as one swallow does not make a summer, this one legitimate case of perversion does not, in my eyes, justify the large number of people who chop or change their faith and are always thronging to hear some half-crazy tub-thumper, be he a long-haired, red-nosed revivalist, unctuous Mormon or any other hypocritical expounder of a new cult.