The Cabin on the Prairie

by C. H. Pearson

“You have been to a great deal of trouble,” I remarked.

“None too much,” he cheerily replied. “I am an old soldier, you see, and that’s why I have to hobble about on this,” pointing to the ancient artificial limb. “I was in the war of 1812, belonged to the cavalry, and at the battle of–”

“Husband,” gently interposed his wife,–an intellectual-looking woman, with a face expressive of goodness,–“the minister will not care to hear of war to-day;” adding, with a blush, “You must excuse us, sir; but it is so long since we have seen one of your profession, or attended religious services, that the days seem too much alike; there is little here to remind us that the Sabbath should be kept holy. O, it is so dreadful–so like heathenism–to live without the ordinances of the gospel! No Sunday school for our children and youth, no servant of God to counsel the dying, comfort the bereaved, and point the heavy-laden to Christ!” 97

“Such a state of things must, indeed, be a great trial to those who love the Saviour,” I observed.

“Yes; and what adds to the trial,” she continued, “is, that members of churches, after they have been here awhile, fall into great laxity in respect to the Lord’s day. Those who were exemplary east, are here seen starting upon or returning from a business journey on Sunday. O, we need some one to gather these straying sheep, and unite them by the public means of grace: many of them, I doubt not, are secretly longing for this. For more than a year I have been praying that God would send a servant of his this way.”

“And sometimes, I dare say, you have felt almost discouraged,” I suggested.

“Yes,” she replied, weeping; “but last week something came to strengthen my faith, and later, intelligence that you were to visit us. Months ago I wrote east for a donation of good reading to scatter among the settlers, but received no response till, last Tuesday, a package of books, tracts, and religious papers arrived. In one of the papers was an article entitled ‘The Pulpit and the Beech Tree.’”

“Here it is,” said the husband, passing her the sheet; “better read it to the parson; there’ll be plenty of time afore the meeting;” and he 98 glanced at a venerable clock screwed to a log over the wide-mouthed clay-stick-and-stone fireplace.

She read as follows: “Nearly a score of years ago, a pioneer sought a home in one of the Western States. He selected a ‘quarter section’ in a dense wilderness, and soon entered upon the arduous work of clearing a farm. He was a man of athletic constitution, and well adapted to cope with the trials on the frontier. He was in the prime of life; and in those days a man was famous according as he had ‘lifted axes upon the thick trees.’ This man was ranked among the leading characters in that region. He could bear up with fortitude under all trials and privations, except those of a religious kind.

“Before his removal to the west, he had enjoyed the privileges of a large and well-regulated church, in which he had for years been a prominent member. To be thus suddenly deprived of those blessed means of grace caused him many painful feelings, and at times almost incapacitated him for ordinary duties. This subject pressed so heavily on his mind, that he often sought relief in laying his wants before God in prayer. One day he enjoyed near access to the throne while on his knees in a secluded part of the forest. He prayed earnestly that God would make that wilderness and solitary place glad with the sound of 99 the gospel. He asked for the church privileges to which he had been accustomed, and he felt assured that God could grant them. So much was he engaged in pleading for this blessing, that he forgot his work. His family looked for his return to dinner, but he came not. They were alarmed, and, making search, found him on his knees. To this man of God there was something peculiarly pleasant in the memory of that approach to the mercy-seat. He loved the spot on which he had knelt, and determined to mark it. It was by the side of a beech tree. He ‘blazed’ it, so that in after years it might remind him of the incident that I have related.