And at this hour I am right glad, because my memory recalls that wonderful congregational singing; even as I write the words, I hear it. It was not Emotionalism. No, indeed! It was a good habit of the soul.
The next morning I took an early train to the cathedral city of Ripon, and every street I passed through on my way to the North-Western Station was full of mills. You could not escape the rattle of their machinery, nor the plunging of the greasy piston rods at every window. It was not yet eight o’clock, but the station was crowded with men carrying samples of every kind of wool or cotton. They were neighbors, and often friends, but they took no notice of each other. They were on business, and their hands were full of bundles. So full that I saw several men who could not manage their railway ticket, and let the conductor take it from their teeth.
Now when I travel, I like to talk with my company, but as I looked around, I could not persuade myself that any of these business-saturated men would condescend to converse with an inquisitive woman. However, a little further on, a very complete clergyman came into my compartment. He looked at me inquiringly, and I felt sure he was speculating about my social position. So I hastened to put him at ease, by some inquiries about the Annis family.
“O dear me!” he replied. “So you remember the old Squire Antony! How Time does fly! The Annis people still love and obey Squire Antony. I suppose he is the only person they do love and obey. How long is it since you were here?”
“Over fifty years. I saw the great Reform Bill passed, just before I left Annis in 1833.”
“You mean the first part of it?”
“Well, then, sir, had it more than one part?”
“I should say so. It seemed to need a deal of altering and repairing. The Bill you saw pass was Grey’s bill. It cleaned up the Lords and Commons, and landed gentlemen of England. Thirty-five years later, Derby and Disraeli’s Reform Bill gave the Franchise to the great middle class, mechanics and artizan classes, and this very year Gladstone extended the Bill to take in more than two millions of agricultural and day laborers. It has made a deal of difference with all classes.”
“I think it is quite a coincidence that I should be here at the finish of this long struggle. I have seen the beginning and the end of it. Really quite a coincidence,” and I laughed a little foolish laugh, for the clergyman did not laugh with me. On the contrary he said thoughtfully: “Coincidences come from higher intelligences than ourselves. We cannot control them, but they are generally fortunate.”
“Higher intelligences than ourselves?” I asked. “Yes. This world is both the workfield and the battlefield of those sent to minister unto souls who are to be heirs of salvation, and who perhaps, in their turn, become comforting and helpful spirits to the children of men. Yes. A coincidence is generally a fortunate circumstance. Someone higher than ourselves, has to do with it. Are you an American?”