After waiting a few seconds for this theological seed to sink deep the old man went on.
“An’ them Pistopals—I’m feared I’m a little in the dark as to their belief—but they must be mighty good scholars, for they kin read like lightnin’. They kin read a psa’m so fast that common folks can’t take in the sense of what they’re sayin’. And there’s another good thing about ’em: they do rev’rence the name of the Lord in the Sunday sarvice; they bow considdable low when they come to it. Only it does look like they don’t all of ’em carry their rev’rence ’round with ’em a-week-days; there’s Cap’n Campbell, he can cuss considdable and he don’t do no bowin’ when he calls on the name of the Lord a-week-days.”
“Hi, gran’daddy! the storekeeper’s wife she’s a Pistopal—and Monday, when she was scoopin’ up a pound of crackers for me, some mice run out of the cracker box and she jes’ hollered out, ‘For the Lord’s sake!’ and she didn’t bow and she didn’t look solemn, ary one.”
“Gran’son, I’ve read that there third commandment a heap of times and I can’t see as it provides for any week-day privileges or indulgences. When a man’s cussin’ mad, tain’t so powerful ill for him to bat the old devil’s name about some but, Grover Cleveland, don’t you never go to triflin’ with the name of the Lord; that’s uncommon low down, that is.
“There used to formerly be only one kind of Baptises here and they warshipped in the old red church. But ole man Jordan he got his back up and he took all his kin-people away and he built another church and he painted it yaller. You see he had a whole mountain of timber land that he was glad to get cleared off, and his sons run a sawmill, and there’s a big bed of yaller ochre right back of his house. He was smart enough to set ’em all to work, while they was red-hot mad. If he’d a give ’em time to cool off, that ar yaller meetin’-house never would been built. They did cool off before they got the chimbly up and to this day they’re a tryin’ to praise the Lord with their stovepipe a-stickin’ out the winder.”
“There’s too many kinds of ’em for old Sandy to git round to ’em all,” said the small boy persistently, returning to his first sorrow.
“Sometimes it looks to me like there’s too many kinds for the Lord to get round to ’em all, gran’son. There’s some big cities where there’s more kinds than we’ve got here. There’s two or three kinds of Meth’-dises and there’s Free-will Baptises and Holinesses, and they all seem to be workin’ for the same end, only they can’t agree to work together. But, of course, people’s got a right to all the religious differences they can pay for; but here in Junaluska we’re too poor to have so many churches.”
“How did there git to be so many kinds, gran’daddy?”
“’Twas zeal, Grover Cleveland. And there’s another point where gran’daddy ain’t exactly clear in his mind. Zeal must be a good thing; St. Paul he owned up that he had it, and yet—I reckon zeal’s like ’lectric’ty, it’s a powerful power for good so long as it’s kept in leaders; but you let ’lectric’ty go rarin’ round promiscuous and it’ll rip things all to flinderations. Eight years ago we had jes’ one church in Junaluska and we had a preacher all to ourselves; we didn’t let him starve to death or freeze to death, ary one. He lived down thar in my log cabin and he had his own roastin’-ear patch and a garden and a orchard. He had a horse of his own and there wasn’t a cabin in any of these mountain gullies that he didn’t know his way to, and there wasn’t a cabin where he wasn’t looked up to and respected. But by and by folks of diff’rent b’liefs came settlin’ round here. They was all powerful pious and they was all bustin’ with zeal, each one for his own ’religious denomination’ as they called it. And—well—I never could contrive just how they done it—but tollable soon there was five diff’rent churches in Junaluska and no more religion than there was before; unless pullin’ and haulin’ and each one tryin’ to git ahead of the other constitutes religion, which I’m doubtful if it do. And more’n that there ain’t work enough nor ham and hominy enough in Junaluska for more than one preacher. Them questions of yours has set me to studyin’, Grover Cleveland.”
So gran’daddy folded himself together and “studied” the rest of the way, while his grandson, making the most of his little brief authority, yelled so conflicting commands at the puzzled oxen that they took their head and in due time drew the rattling old wagon safe into the home barn yard.