Clover and Blue Grass

by Eliza Calvert Hall

"Parson Page looked mighty troubled, and he thought a while, and says he: 'Maybe you're right. My payin' won't help the looks of things any, but I know I'll have a better conscience all my life if I pay as other people have done. I haven't looked at the show,' says he, 'but I've heard the music, and I've had a shelter from the storm and a comfortable seat, and in all common honesty I ought to pay.' So they started out to find the man that sold tickets. But the ticket stand was gone, and they stood there lookin' around, the mud nearly ankle-deep, and Mis' Page said she was holdin' up her silk dress and wishin' to goodness they could git started toward town.

"Sam said he knew Parson Page's conscience would hold him there on the show-ground till he'd paid that money, so he says: 'You and Mis' Page wait here; I'll see if I can find the man you want.' And Sam hunted all over the grounds till he found the head man of the circus, and he brought him around to where Parson Page and Mis' Page was waitin' for him. Mis' Page said he was as fine lookin' and well-mannered a man as she ever had seen; and he shook hands with her so friendly it seemed like she'd known him all her life, and then he says to Parson Page, as kind as you please: 'Well, my friend, what can I do for you?'

"And Parson Page he explained how he'd got into the show tent by accident when the storm was comin' up, and how he wanted to pay; and the showman listened mighty polite, and when the parson got through he says: 'Put up your purse, sir. You don't owe me a cent.' Says he: 'The obligation's all on my side, and it's an honor to this circus to know that we had a minister of the gospel in our audience, to-day.' The parson he insisted on payin', but the showman he wouldn't hear to it. Says he: 'If Mr. Barnum was to hear that I'd charged a preacher anything for seein' his show, I'd lose my place before you could say "Jack Robinson!"' And Parson Page said: 'Is that really so?' And the showman said: 'Upon my word and honor, it is. There's no such thing as a preacher payin' his way into one o' Mr. Barnum's circuses.'

"Well, Parson Page put his purse back in his pocket and thanked the showman for his kindness, but he said he felt as if he wanted to make some sort of a return, and he begun searchin' around in his pockets to see if he didn't have a tract or somethin' o' that sort to give him, and he come across a Shorter Catechism that he'd been questionin' the children out of the Sunday before. And he pulled it out and says he: 'Sir, I would like to leave this little book with you as a token of remembrance.' Sam said the showman took it and looked at it and turned over the pages right slow, and at last he says: 'Great Jehosaphat! This carries me back forty years, to the time when I was a little shaver, goin' to church Sunday mornin' and listenin' to old Brother Bodley preach from the day of creation down to the day of judgment, and sittin' on the old horsehair sofa in the parlor all Sunday evenin' wrestlin' with this very catechism and prayin' for the sun to go down and wishin' I could cut all the Sundays out o' the almanac.' And he turned over the pages o' the catechism and says he: 'Yes, here's all my old friends, "Santification" and "Justification" and "Adoption."' Sam said he laughed to himself, but there was a curious look in his eyes like he might cry, too. And says he: 'Parson, I know you won't believe me, but there ain't a question in this catechism that I can't answer.'

"And Parson Page, he looked amazed, as anybody would, and says he: 'Is it possible?' And the showman handed him the book, and says he: 'I bet you five dollars I can answer any question you ask me.' Well, of course, Parson Page hadn't any notion of bettin' with the showman, but he took the catechism and says he, jest as earnest as if he was hearin' a Sunday-school class: 'What is sanctification?' And the showman says: 'Sanctification is an act of God's free grace wherein he pardoneth all our sins, and accepteth us as righteous in his sight only for the righteousness of Christ imputed to us and received by faith alone.'

"And Parson Page looked mighty pleased, and says he: 'That's a perfectly correct answer, but that's justification, and I asked you what sanctification is.' And the showman he thought a minute, and says he: 'You're right! You're right! I always did have trouble with justification and sanctification, and I remember how mother'd say: "Now, Samuel, can't you get it fixed in your mind that justification is an act and sanctification is a work of God's free grace?" I thought I did get it fixed one o' them Sunday evenin's when mother was workin' with me, but I see now I didn't.'

"And then he pulled out his purse,—Mis' Page said she never saw as much money at one time in all her life,—and he handed Parson Page a five-dollar gold piece. Parson Page didn't make any motion toward takin' it; jest looked first at the showman and then at Sam in a kind o' puzzled way, and the showman says: 'Here's your money, Parson. You won it fair and square.'

"And Parson Page says: 'Sir, I don't understand you,' and he stepped back to keep the showman from puttin' the money in his hand—pretty much, I reckon, the way Brother Wilson did when Squire Schuyler was tryin' to make him take the deed to the house that was a wedding fee; and the showman says: 'Why, didn't I bet you five dollars I could answer any question in this catechism, and didn't I lose my bet?' And Parson Page says: 'Sir, I hadn't the slightest intention of betting with you. I am a minister of the gospel.' And the showman he says: 'Well, Parson, you may not have intended bettin' any more than you intended goin' to the circus, but you did bet, and there's no gettin' around it. I bet I could answer any question, and you took up the bet and asked the question; and I lost, and you won.'

"Sam Amos said he never could forgit the look on Parson Page's face when he begun to see that he'd not only been to the circus, but that he'd been bettin' with the circus man. And he says: 'Sir, there's a great misunderstanding somewhere. Surely a minister of the gospel can ask a catechism question without being accused of betting.' And the showman he laughed, and says he: 'Well, we won't argue about that, but here's your money,' And Parson Page says: 'Sir, I shall not take it.' And the showman he looked mighty solemn and says he: 'Do you think it's right, Parson, to keep a fellow man from payin' his just debts?' And Parson Page studied a while, and says he: 'That's a hard question. I never had to deal with just such a matter before, and I hardly know what to say.' And the showman he says: 'I've got a conscience the same as you; my conscience tells me to pay this money, so it must be right for me to pay it; and if it's right for me to pay it, it can't be wrong for you to take it.'

"Well, Parson Page studied a minute, and says he: 'Your reasoning appears to be sound, but, still, my conscience tells me that I ought not to take the money, and I will not take it.' And the showman says: 'Well, if it goes against your conscience to keep it, put it in the contribution box next Sunday,' Says he: 'I haven't been to church since I was a boy, and there may be a good many changes since then, but I reckon they're still passin' the contribution box around.' And the parson he drew back and shook his bead again, and the showman says: 'Well, you can give it to foreign missions; maybe the heathen won't object to takin' a showman's money.' And the parson says: 'Sir, I appreciate your generosity, but on the whole I think it best not to take the money.'