Chapter 9

"We study history with trifling purpose, if its high philosophy does not raise us behind the scenes of strife and peace, advance and retreat, rest and revolution, to discover that God moves on the waters controlling their general course."

The Minister cited a few great epochs and movements of history, as illustrations. Some were secular, and some were sacred. He pointed to the wars of Alexander, in which the oriental nations must have seen nothing but chaos, desolation, and woe. Yet, over all those warring waters the Spirit of God moved, and the races of men rose ennobled from them. Horrible sins were committed by that warrior, and God brought him and them to a terrible judgment. Yet God turned the curses to blessings. The young, warm, vigorous blood of Greece, and her splendid literature, and magnificent arts were carried into the heart of Asia, and raised those old dotard nations to a second youth; inspired them with power and light; flooded their lands with new and noble ideas, and brought sluggish and unsocial peoples into commerce, unity, progress, and hope.

"And pass to another scene," said the Minister, rising with his subject and kindling to a glow. "Pass to another scene. Enter Jerusalem. Go about Judea after the martyrdom of Stephen, and see what chaos, terror, and despair succeed. Even the Jews are divided into cliques and juntos, at war with each other, and enraged at their rulers. And where are the poor trembling Christians, that on the day of Pentecost flocked in such thousands and such joy to the lifted banner of the Cross? And how stands their faith in this terrible hour? It is sorely tried and belabored. Persecution kindles her fiery torches, and a wild tumult of warring evils reigns. They are scattered abroad. They flee for their lives to distant cities, and many lie down in despair and death.

"And yet what seeds of blessing were blown about by those wicked winds; and what love was brought from persecution! The Christians were scattered all over the Roman empire, and every one became a missionary to the Gentiles, to give the word, and diffuse the power of eternal life. And thus was Divine Providence manifested in defeating the designs of evil; in commanding the waters of rage and fury, and bringing harmony, truth, and blessing out of all. And signs of a like Providence have been repeated throughout the whole course of history, and man has risen from every conflict wiser, stronger, and more mature in the graces of many-sided life.

"The period succeeding the fall of the Roman empire was another chaos of upheaval, confusion, war, and night. The Christian element had been poured into the Roman, which had long effervesced with the leaven of Greece and the oriental world. Then wave after wave of barbarian power, fury, and life, came pouring into all, and threatening to drown the world, like another flood, and sweep away the monuments, institutions, and ideas of all past time. The rolling in of those savage waves was like pouring rivers of acid into seas of alkali, and the waters of society rose and roared in foaming strife. Yet, black as was the sky, through all the dark ages, the light of the Lord shone above the darkness; and wild and terrible as was the war of waters, the Spirit of the Lord moved upon them, and brought to our times the social life, liberty, and harmony we see.

"And some of the grandest characters of history have been called out in times of conflict and revolution; and this shows the revelation of the Lord in all. Milton, Washington, Patrick Henry, were not the weakly blossoms of a hot-house, nor the stately flowers that decked a velvet lawn, or blushed in a sunny garden. No! they were live, indomitable oaks, that grew amid rocks, and from warring winds, and dashing waters, received strength to deepen their hardy roots, and lift to heaven their green and magnificent branches.

"And as in Nature and History," said the Minister, "_so in Individual Life we may say the same_. The Providence of God regards the sparrow's flight and the insect's joy; it clothes the grass, and arrays the lilies in glory, and therefore is mindful of you and me, and works for our good. 'The Spirit of God moves on the waters,' as they flow in the course of Individual Life.

"We often see darkness above us. We often hear the powers of apparent chaos roaring like hungry dragons around. We are often the sport of whirling eddies, and the rage of furious rapids and falls. We wind our cold, dark way at times, as if passing under the falls of Niagara, roofed over with roaring waters, and startled with bursts of spray, and shrieks and whistlings of sound from chasms and gulfs beneath; where one false step would send us to destruction.

"And yet, as we have trusted our faith and hope, we have heard the voice of the Lord above the noise of waters; and felt that his Spirit moved near us, breathing love and speaking peace. We have said with George Fox, 'There is an ocean of darkness and death; but withal an infinite ocean of light and love flows over the darkness.'

"And what if we cannot always behold the light above the clouds? What if the time frequently comes in trials, bereavements and disasters, when all around and above, is dark, dark; and we see not how our prayers for light can be answered, or in what way God can educe a good from evil? Experience and faith assure us that the light will come, and the good be made manifest.

"I may safely assert," said the Minister, "that the highest and sweetest of all the blessings God his poured upon me, have rained down in storms of affliction. That the brightest days have dawned on the darkest nights. That the roundest and ruddiest rainbows have beamed from the gloomiest clouds. I have had the profoundest sense of the love of God, and the nearness of His Spirit, not in days of sunshine and pleasure, when the waters have flowed in placid, tranquillity, and there were slumber and rest on the world. But in hours of trial and trouble, I have felt most of His love, and seemed most lovingly folded in His Spirit; in hours of sickness, in hours of need, afar from all my kindred, cut off from the staff and stay of worldly pleasure and joy. Then, O, then, the Spirit of God has moved on the waters, and spoken peace! And from afflictions, I have risen to higher faith, and more strength of character, and broader aims and views of life.

"And this has been the experience of others I have visited and heard. It has not been amid affluence, it has not been on the smoothly-rolling current of worldly prosperity, that I have found people most keenly alive to a sense of God's goodness, or the presence of His Spirit. I have found great faith and gratitude; I have found warm and devoted Christians amid affluence; but I think on the whole, I have found the profoundest sense of the Divine Goodness and Presence among the humble, among the poor and afflicted; and I am often reminded of an apostle's words; 'God hath chosen the poor of this world rich in faith.' * * *

"And this reminds me of Job, and the faith that led him to hear the voice of the Divine Spirit in the whirlwind, and on the stormy flood; and from whirlwinds and floods, to get messages of love and peace.

"But with the aid of all these illustrations," said the Minister, closing his sermon, "what _can_ we conceive of God's providential love? It is a thought beyond conception, it is a light transcending vision. There is no object on earth or in heaven, that can well represent the truth of its wisdom, the touch of its tenderness, or the attraction of its power. The sun is but a taper, reflecting its glory; the sea is but a globule, describing its breadth and depth. It runs the circle of the universe, without interruption, and without end. It is particular as it is impartial; it is melting and sweet, as it is mighty and sublime; and it holds you and me, and it holds the littlest babe, and the littlest bird and flower, in an infinite Father's heart!"

He pronounced the benediction, and the audience went their way to rejoice in the light that seemed sent down from heaven.

He gave another message in Summerfield, and departed on another call of his mission. His visit to the Lake Country was an era in the life of Matthew Fabens. His views and illustrations suggested new trains of thought and reflection; but they only confirmed his faith in Christ's doctrine of Providence, and opened his ear to loftier and more melodious notes of that infinite harmony, in which he believed the universe of God was bound. Mrs. Fabens had joys that flowing tears expressed, and Fanny was not an unsympathizing hearer.

XVIII.

THE SECOND MEETING AND ITS FRUITS.

In his second sermon, the Minister set forth one or two practical views of Christianity, and dwelt upon them with an earnest soul, and a happy selection of illustrations from the Scriptures. He cited incidents from history also; and appealed to his audience with such persuasive eloquence, he left a deep impression on their minds and hearts.

Fabens had before thought of those things, and endeavored to rule his conduct by such a spirit. He had studied the example of Joseph with his brethren; of Elisha with the Assyrians, of David with Saul, of Christ with his enemies, of Schuyler with Burgoyne, and Washington with the Tory. In numberless instances of his life, the power of such examples had been exhibited in his private conduct, and in his decisions as a magistrate.

Still his faith in the power of kindness as applied to the vicious and criminal, was not so strong or perfect as he would desire. Some cases of offence there were, in the treatment of which, for a good effect upon others, he held doubted the success of that principle. The teachings of God, he confessed, had a lesson to strengthen that faith. All his own little errors had been treated with kindness from Heaven. True, he had always been miserable as often as he had sinned; but then the gracious rains were not withheld, nor the kind sunlight extinguished; nor the harvests blighted, nor the bloom of woods, nor the fragrance of flowers denied, because he had been sinful and unthankful. God had chastened him in kindness; and he loved virtue all the more, and increased in the ardors of devotion. He prayed for more faith in the power of benevolent principles and deeds; and hoped at length for a perfection, in which he could actually turn the left cheek, when the right had been smitten. The words of the Minister increased his confidence in moral power, and rendered more lovely than ever he regarded them before, many of the Saviour's precepts.

The subject engrossed his thoughts and feelings, when, one evening, going to his barn with a lantern to close the door, he found a neighbor in his granary measuring wheat! A second glance assured him it was Tilly Troffater, his enemy; the mysterious, meddlesome, lying little bandy Troffater, and he was stealing wheat!

Some of the neighbors had long surmised that Tilly owed the Squire a groundless and secret grudge, as he did many others in the town. He always seemed to be cooking spleen and getting up grudges. He enjoyed apparent slights, and fancied insults, as a hungry dog his dinner; they helped him so much in hatching quarrels and perpetrating spites and revenges. But he always seemed to fear the Squire, and drop his cockerel crest, whenever he met his glances; and no one suspected he would dare to step so far upon his premises, even to execute revenge, much less, to rob or steal. He had often said he would never stand before Squire Fabens, and be obliged to look him in the face. But alas, here he was overtaken in a crime! And what on earth could the creature do? He would have given the apple of his eye to be anywhere else at that moment.

He had an enormous bag, but as yet, there was only a little in it. Fabens approached him, called him _neighbor_ Troffater, got hold of his hiding hand, and shook it with a frank and earnest grasp, that would have hurt a tenderer palm, and inquired after his health and that of his family. Troffater straightened, and swelled, and blowed; and cocked and crossed his black and blue eyes; but answered not a word. Now was the time to test the power of kindness, and he gave it a trial.

He was glad, he said, that he happened to come with a light, for it was very difficult to measure wheat in the dark; and began himself to fill up the bag. Troffater looked more sullen and evil for a while, but he soon began to wilt, and open his mouth with apologies. He declared, as true as he lived, he would not have taken over half a bushel, and would have returned again every kernel he borrowed. Fabens replied that it would grieve him to know that any neighbor of his was in need of what he could so easily spare; and for fear Troffater might suffer, and be tempted again to do what must be so painful to his heart, he filled the large bag and tied it, saying, "There neighbor Troffater, you are very welcome to that bag-full."

He insisted, however, that Troffater should go into the house, and see his folks, and take supper with them. The bolt of a galvanic battery could not have convulsed the little culprit with a more terrible shock than such a word; he looked as though he would slink through the floor, and actually craved a blow to brace up his nerves, and knit his joints, and rally his skulking spirit. He begged permission to be gone immediately. But no, he could not get off with so light a punishment. He must go in and see Mrs. Fabens and Fanny, and take supper with them. He dared not disobey, and he trudged sneakingly in like a whipped spaniel.

"O, it is Mr. Troffater come to see us!" said Mrs. Fabens, smiling a kind welcome as he entered the door. "We were wondering who it could be with Mr. Fabens in the barn-yard. How do you do, Mr. Troffater? How is Mrs. Troffater? and how are the family? It is such a pleasant evening, why did not Mrs. Troffater come over with you and spend the evening? She has not made me a visit in a long, long while."

"How are Ruth and Josephine? Did I not see them crossing our pasture towards Mr. Teezle's to-day? I hope they have not forgotten that they owe me a visit," said Fanny, with a voice more musical than the meadowlark's, and a smile more gentle and subduing than the moonlight melting on the wall.

But Troffater was silent. His throat was so dry, and his tongue so thick, he could utter nothing in return. His silence surprised them, and they feared he had been injured, or was in a fit, until a glance from Fabens checked their surprise and inquiries; and then they treated him as if he had joined in conversation, and nothing unusual had happened. A good supper was set before him, and a good family took seats around him, and Mrs. Fabens and Fanny more than once expressed the wish that Mrs. Troffater and the girls had come along. But Troffater enjoyed neither conversation, nor comfort, nor supper. He tried to eat, but he made a pig's mess of the fine and bountiful dishes they set before him. He crossed and recrossed his earthen eyes. He sweat, and hitched, and wheezed: he dropped his knife on the floor, and stuck his elbow in Fanny's butter; he attempted to sever a cold chicken's wing, and upset a plate full of biscuit and butter, apple, honey, and pie, in his lap; he blew his tea long after it was cool, and blew hot and cold drops into Mrs. Fabens' face; and mixed everything together as he ate. And then he ate but little; his throat was so dry he found it difficult to swallow.

After supper they returned to the barn, and there Fabens told him in private what he thought of his crime. He talked very frankly. He used neither oil nor honey with his words. He warned him against the wickedness of crime, and against its awful punishments. He cited a few warnings of the Scriptures against the wicked and the sinner. Yet he spoke kindly, and admonished him as a friend and brother.

Troffater went into convulsions of agony. Streams of fire seemed surging through all his arteries, burning up his heart, and covering his head and face with blisters. He hung his head, and knocked his knees together. He gasped, and hemmed, and groaned. Tears at last came to his relief, and he wept like a child. Fabens assured him, if he would promise upon honor, that he would, from that time, abandon criminal desires and acts, he would always treat him kindly, and never expose him. A pledge was given with more soul in its declarations than had ever before been extorted from the mischief.

Troffater, however, still begged for one mitigation of his punishment--a single one. He begged to empty the bag of wheat into the granary, and go home without a quart. But Fabens was inexorable. Troffater said it would choke him to eat the flour, after what had happened. But Fabens expressed no fear or pity. Troffater said he would give up trapping and hunting, and go right to work and earn some wheat. Fabens advised him to do it; but said he must take home that bag full, to keep them in bread till he could earn more. Troffater replied that they had enough for two or three bakings, and asked if he might not let the bag stand, and come to-morrow, and work till he had earned it, and then take it home. But Fabens was still inexorable. If Troffater would come to-morrow and help him three or four days, he would pay him in wheat; but that bag-full he was welcome to, and he must take it home that night.

"I ken not carry it," cried Tilly; "there's three bushels and a haff; and it'll break my back, if I try to tuck it hum."

"I did not think of that. It will be too heavy for one load; but I will tell you how you can manage it," said Fabens. "We will turn half of it into your other bag, that lies out there by the fence, and you can carry it half at a time, and then get it home before eleven o'clock."

Then came another scourge like molten lead upon him. He had hoped that Fabens would not discover the other bag; but now the worst was known; and taking the fiery chastisement, he submitted, insisting on coming to work, and declaring he would take no more pay for his work; while the Squire declared if he worked he should have his pay. He carried away the wheat, and never again was detected in crime committed after that night. It could hardly be expected by any man that his character would be completely changed, or his punishment entirely remitted at once. But he was a better neighbor, and more inclined to employment; and he abandoned his love of lying, law, and litigation.

XIX.

THE HARVEST LUNCH.

Bearing witness of prospering hopes and growing joys, nearly a twelvemonth passed away, and Fabens commenced his wheat harvest. The last fall seeding was more extensive than that of any former year; the snows came on early, and in kindly coverings, protected the tender blades through the winter. Spring rains fell in timely showers to wash it from mould, and revive it from the withering of frost and wind. The summer appeared early, as one of Nature's most genial and gentle, and he looked around on harvests large and white.

He went forth to his fields, with many men, and great preparations. The songs of the reapers were never more cheerful. The melting hours of July were never more manfully met. The home of our farmer had seldom less shadow with its light. Laborers found rarely a more liberal employer than he. He was generous in the wages he gave; he allowed more resting hours than any of his neighbors; he was less exacting in his demands; he always reserved the finest lambs and chickens to supply his table in that season; he had the best of spruce beer in Summerfield, and the clearest crystal water. And while with these mitigations, the toils of the harvesters were still hot and heavy to be borne, there was that in their fare, in their songs, and animation, which told of as much happiness, as may crown the tasks of labor.

To all his sympathies for the laborers, to all his efforts to cheer them, and temper their fatigues, and give them relief and refreshment, Mrs. Fabens and Fanny responded with expressions, more meaning than words. From the midst of the forenoon labors, they invited their help to refreshments under some green shade tree in the field; and in the long afternoon, three hours before supper, a refreshing lunch was again set before them, which would have answered well for supper; and it brought vigor once more to weary arms, and vigor to weary hearts; and called forth thanks from minds that abounded in gratitude, as in labor. Long and affectionately were they remembered by their men, as the bringers of joy and ministers of comfort, where joy and comfort were often craved in vain.

On one sweet afternoon, toward the last of the month, and the last of the harvest, a cool bland breeze swept over from the north, and rendered the time delightful. The sun still shone, and it was large and yellow as in October, but the breath of the north stole the sting of fire from its beams, and rallied a thrill of life and joy through the drooping hearts of beasts and men.

It was a pleasant hour to be enjoyed out of door, and it was welcomed as a blessing, by those who had kept in the shade; and Mrs. Fabens and her daughter hurried their preparations to be early in the field, with the evening meal.

"The men want to finish if they can, this week," said Mrs. Fabens, "and they have worked hard, very hard, since morning, and we must give them a good luncheon this time."

"We will take extra pains," responded Fanny, "and see how cheerful we can make them. It is so cool and pleasant out now, they will enjoy it, and we shall enjoy it better than usual, as Cousin William will be with us; and let it be something more than bread and butter. I feel so sorry for them, while they work so hard in the scorching sun to make us happy! Too much care cannot be done to refresh them, and warm up their hearts."

"Then, William has returned from Auburn, has he? Well, he shall see that country people can be happy and free-hearted, if they have _not_ the city refinements. And we shall again find that the greatest good and joy on earth, we take in the good we do to others. They shall have something that will do them good."

"George Ludlow looked up to me so thankful, when I turned his bowl of coffee," said Fanny, "and it seemed to taste so good, and revive him so, I felt more than paid; I was myself refreshed by my trouble."

"It does them all good, not only to be refreshed with what nature requires, but to know that we care for them. These little acts of kindness can never be felt, except in pleasure by us, while they will direct a stray feeling of happiness to more than one deserving heart. It is a refreshment of the soul, to poor and rich, to know that others care for them. What should we live for, if not to lighten each other's labors, and make each other happy?"

"If what father believes is true, and it looks quite rational, we praise God most, when we are most like him, and are faithful and free-hearted to his children. And who of us desires more praise from those we wait on, than a look of gratitude, and the assurance that we have given a blessing? But, George _did_ look so thankful! Poor George, how hard he has worked to be somebody in the world!"

"They all looked thankful, and what was better, they rose and went to work again with a lighter step, as though they felt younger and stronger. But, George has given you several such looks of late, and sometimes when your eyes were another way. I begin to think he means something."

"How you talk, mother!--What, looked at me several times? And when my eyes were another way?" returned Fanny, blushing like a quince blossom.

"Well, he cannot mean anything more than thanks for our small attentions."