Chapter 13

COMMENT AND CRITICISM

On Friday the campers returned to their homes, and Cane Ridge neighborhood settled down to its usual routine.

"It's high time thet fo'ks should come to ther senses," said Mrs. Rogers, as she and her husband and young Dudley sat in the yard after supper that evening. "I don't see how you all stood it stiddy fur two weeks et a stretch up et the 'campment. Ev'ry time I sent the niggahs up thah with the fresh vittuls, they'd come back with ther eyes fa'rly bulgin' out o' ther haids, an' whut little wits they hed knocked sky west an' crooked. They brung me sich 'counts uv the goin's-on thet at last, thinks I, I'll go an' see fur myse'f. I knowed you an' Henry could tek keer uv yo'se'ves; but I wuz consarned 'bout Cissy, an' felt it high time to be lookin' artah her. I soon found her, an' when I seed she still hed her haid on her shouldahs, I wuz easier in my mind; but I'll nevah fergit thet fust visit. The meetin' hed been goin' on six days, an' things hed got in a good weavin' way. Thah wuz no less than five preachahs holdin' forth to oncet in diffrunt parts uv the grounds; so I tells Cissy thet ez thah wuz no tellin' when I'd git thah ag'in we'd meandeh 'roun' permiscous lak an' tek in all we could. Fust, we went to the arboh whah thah wuz a big geth'rin'--hardly even standin'-room in the aisles--but we manidged to squedge in on a seat close up in front. The platform wuz crammed with preachahs, an' ole Brothah Ranson wuz holdin' fo'th et a gran' rate. His subjec' wuz 'Fleein' frum the wrath to come,' an' he wuz pow'rful. The pictures he drawed uv the tormints uv the lost, writhin' in the midst uv the fire an' brimstone in the bottomless pit, wuz 'nough to set a snowbank afire. I felt ez hot ez ef I wuz danglin' ovah thet pit myse'f; an' ef one o' the angels hed happened to peep ovah the battermints o' heaven et thet minit, he'd been scorched hisse'f by the billers o' flame whut riz mountain high frum thet sea o' tormint. But somehow, the fo'ks didn't git ez much rousement on 'em ez I'd looked fur--reckon they'd done hed so much preachment thet they wuz kindah tuckahed out. Oh, yes, thah wuz considahble groanin' an' wailin' an' sich like, an' a whole passel o' sinnahs come furwa'd to be prayed fur; but I could see thet Brothah Ranson wuz disapp'inted et the lack o' 'citement, an' thet he wuz fixin' to mek a big jump uv some sort. Fust, he prayed a ha'r-liftin' pertition; then, soon's thet wuz ovah, he swung hisse'f out to the aidge o' the platfo'm, stomped his foot, waved his arms, an' hollahed out, 'Ev'rybody whut wants to 'scape the wrath to come, an' to meet me in heaven, clap yer hands an' shout "Glory!" altogethah.' Thet fotched us shore 'nough."

"Yes," said Mr. Rogers, "I hearn o' thet meetin', but I wuzn't thah. I wuz list'nin' to Brothah Rice et t'othah eend o' the camp."

"Did you shout with the rest, Mrs. Rogers?" Dudley asked.

"I should say so!" she answered. "Ev'rybody did, an' sich a hullabaloo ez it wuz--'nough to raise the dead. I thought fur a minit thet judgment-day hed come, an' wouldn't been s'prised to heah the toot o' Gabr'el's horn then an' thah. No wondeh fo'ks hed jerks an' fits an' swoondin' spaills et the camp! My ha'r wuz all creepy, thah wuz goose flesh all ovah my arms, an' hot an' cold chills a-chasin' one 'nothah up an' down the spines o' my back."

"How'd Cissy behave in all thet rumpus?" asked Rogers.

"I got Cissy outen thah none too soon," Mrs. Rogers acknowledged with a wise shake of her head. "Her face wuz ashy, an' she wuz all o' a shake an' a quake. I took her ovah to some trees whah a watah barr'l stood, an' made her tek a good swill, an' wet her hankchief an' mop her face. Then I walked her off to a quiet place an' says to her, 'Cissy, the Lawd knows I want to see you become a child o' grace, but I don't intend to hev religion jerked an' shouted an' skeered intah you. 'Tain't fittin', to my notion, to see a modest young gal a-mekin' a show uv herse'f, an' the Lawd nevah intended it, nuthah. Ef you're 'lected to salvation--an' I believe you air, fur he's a marciful an' gracious God, an' you're a nice, innercent, well-behaved gal--you kin be called in a quiet way; an' when he does call, whut you got to do is to heah an' obey. Thet's all thah is to convarsion, anyway. So I reckon you'd bettah come 'long home with me this evenin', outen all this fuss.' But she begged so hard to stay, an' promised so faithful not to git wrought up ag'in, thet I let her stay."

After a short pause, Mrs. Rogers continued: "But I stick to it thet the Lawd nevah intended his people to go stark, starin' crazy ovah religion, no more'n ovah anything else. All them ravin's an' jerkin's an' holy-laughin's an' holy-dancin's air onseemly in any fo'ks, sinnah or saint. The Almighty don't want to be pestered with no sich tekin'-on. When he calls, listen; whut he says do, you jes' git up an' do. Thet's religion, an' nuthin' else."

"You're 'bout right, Cynthy Ann," Rogers assented, as he lay at full length on the grass. "To my mind, the main p'int is to love God, an' do yer duty by yer neighbor an' fambly."

"An' do it quiet, too," added his wife. "You nevah heah uv a woman tekin' spasms an' jerks ovah lovin' her husban' or childurn, or a gal ovah lovin' her sweetheart. Then, why must fo'ks raise sich a cavortment 'bout lovin' God--hollahin' an' whoopin' an' sprawlin' 'roun' on the ground lak Sal Fox did thet las' time I wuz et the camp? She'd been a-jerkin' an' a-rollin' an' a-foamin' et the mouth wussen a mad dog, tell she wuz clean tuckahed out, an' thah she lay in the straw 'roun' the altah, her pink caliker dusty an' tore lak she'd been a-chasin' through a briah patch, straws stickin' out all ovah her haid. Thah stood ole Brothah Stratton prayin' ovah her, her sister Jane an' Poll Tribble snifflin' an' snufflin' an' fannin' her, an' sayin' they feared she'd nevah come outen her trance. Thinks I, 'I'll fotch her out.' I walks up, an', pokin' her with my foot, I says, 'Git up, Sal! Hain't you 'shamed yo'se'f, layin' heah with yer haid lookin' lak a rat's nest, an' yer laigs a-showin'?' Daddy Stratton he prayed loudah, Poll she fanned fastah, an' Jane she sniffled an' snuffled harder'n evah, while Sal she jes' lay thah lak a dead corp. I knowed she heard me, though, fur she kindah flickahed her eyeleds, an' then lay stiffer'n evah. So I says, pokin' her ag'in, 'Ef I hed sich pipestems ez them laigs o' yourn, I'd keep 'em hid--an' heah comes Jed White, too!' With thet she sets up, smoothes down her dress, an' winds up her ha'r, spry ez a ant; fur Jed's her beau."

"Oh, well, Sal nevah 'sperienced religion befoh," said Rogers, "so it went hard with her, 'cause, befoh this, she's allus resisted the Speret. But whut I can't stand is them Methodis' folks whut fall in an' out uv religion so of'en--'speri'ncin' a change o' heart ev'ry day in the week, an' mekin' the Lawd out a reg'lar Injin givah, bestowin' grace at ev'ry revival, an' tekin' it away soon's meetin's ovah. While the rousement lasts, the road to glory stretches out befoh 'em, an' they're ready, ez the hymn says, 'to bid far'well to ev'ry fear an' face a frownin' world.' Then by the nex' week they can't mustah up 'nough strength to hoe a row o' cawn. Oh, yes, they're mighty happy while the meetin' lasts. They're on the way to the land o' promise, singin' ez they journey on, ez how they'll 'b'ar the toil, endure the pain, supported by His grace.' Soon's the revival's ovah, they're ready fur anothah kind o' journey, an' lak ez not, they will jine in a drinkin' spree, an' end up in a free fight an' a gen'ral fisticuff. Now, thahs Jake Simmons, a lazy, no-'count skunk whut won't even tote in a back log to keep his fambly frum freezin'. He's got religion ha'f a dozen times, an' teks on a leetle crazier ev'ry time. When I seed him a-rollin' an' stompin' an' cavortin' an' axin' the brethren to pray fer him, thinks I, 'Whut you need, Jake, wossen the prayers uv the saints, is a big blacksnake whip larruped ovah yer back.' The Lawd does the job up right when he really convarts a man. It's 'onc't in grace, allus in grace,' ez the catechism teaches."

"But," said Dudley, who until now had listened silently to this discussion, "the Bible speaks of wanderers from the fold. No doubt Jake is a wandering sheep."

"Maybe he is," Mrs. Rogers agreed; "but, ef so, he looks an' acts so lak a goat thet the angel Gabr'el hisse'f don't know the diffruns."

"An' ef he is a sheep," added Mason, "he's so hidebound an' so fleece-growed, an' hez been herdin' with the goats in the devil's pastur' so long, thet he hain't wuth fotchin' home to the fold."

As soon as the fall wheat-sowing was finished, Abner Dudley resumed his school, but under such changed conditions that he could not feel the same enthusiastic interest as during the previous term. John Calvin was now the only advanced pupil; Henry had entered Transylvania University, and neither Betsy nor Susan were in school.

"Cissy's goin' on sixteen, an' hez eddication 'nough," said her mother. "It don't do gals no good to be too book-l'arned--jes' meks 'em uppish an' no-'count."

Mr. Rogers submitted to his wife's decree. "I boss the boys," he said, "but I reckon Cynthy Ann knows whut's best fur the gals; though, ez fur ez I'm consarned, I'd like Cissy to be ez eddicated ez any uv them high-flyers 'roun' Lexin'ton."

Susan was ambitious and loved study, and, although she did not openly rebel against her mother's ruling, went about her household tasks in a dejected way which greatly tried bustling Mrs. Rogers.

"Now, Cissy," she said, coming to the girl's room one night and finding her sobbing over disappointed hopes, "don't you s'pose yer own mammy'll do whut's best fur her dautah? You mustn't think 'cause I'm sharp an' stirrin' with you thet I don't love you." She seated herself on the side of the bed and began to stroke Susan's hair. "'Tain't no use fur you to tek on so. You must jes' trust yer mammy, an' by an' by you'll see I'm right. I can't spar' you frum home this wintah, but you kin study o' nights, an' Abner'll holp you with yer books. So cheer up, lak a good gal; an' nex' time the packman comes 'long--an' I'm lookin' fer him 'most any day--I'll buy you some ribbon fur yer hair an' a string uv beads. Soon's we git the heft o' the fall wuck did up, you'n' me will mek you one o' them fine quilted silk petticoats, lak Betsy's, to w'ar under yer red calaminco dress. Thah now!"--and she kissed the girl--"say yer prayers, an' go to sleep." Then she murmured as she left the room, "Pore gal! 'Tis hard on her; but I jes' can't spar' her this wintah. I know she's ez purty an' ez good a gal ez kin be found anywhahs!"

As the weeks went by, Betsy Gilcrest did not sing over her work in her old light-hearted way. Mrs. Gilcrest was not an observant woman; but Aunt Dilsey, the old "black mammy," noticed the change in her idolized young mistress. "The keer ob dis place an' all de man'gin' o' dem noisy boys an' lazy niggahs am too much 'sponsibility fur sich young shouldahs ez hern. Ole Dilsey does whut she kin to spar' de precious chile frum worry an' care; but one ole niggah lak me carn't do ebbrythin'; an' 'tain't no wondah Miss Betsy's gittin' pale an' peeky an' low-spereted."