"I shan't be a minister, ma; I've made up my mind on that." Joe looked at his sister, who generally was not backward in expressing an opinion. Now she only said, as though speaking to herself, "I wonder what Marion would say."
The family had just returned from morning service, where the new pastor for the first time had met the people. Aunt Thankful, as she was called, had taken off her bonnet and shawl, folding the latter carefully in the creases; now, with a peremptory wave of her hand to enjoin silence, she said,—
"There's either sorrer or there's sin behind him. I'm inclined to think it's sorrer. It's Scripter, you know, to let charity have its perfect work."
The door-bell at this moment ringing, Aunt Thankful, who was passing Sunday with her friends, seized her bonnet and shawl and left the room. Annie started for the door, to answer the summons, while Joe opened his library book and began to read.
The sound of a manly but nervous step in the chamber above called forth a sigh from Mr. Asbury, followed by the words,—
"I'm dreadfully afraid, wife, we've made a mistake."
"Don't look so melancholy, pa," urged Annie, returning, "or Mr. Angus will think we are talking of him. He asked what time we dined, and said he would like to go to his chamber for a few minutes."
While he paces back and forth in the apartment assigned him, I will explain that the parish to which Mr. Asbury belonged had lost their pastor by death six months before the opening of our story; that a succession of candidates had been heard, discussed, and dismissed; that the people, wearied out by their own criticisms, were beginning to scatter; that at length they conceived the idea of sending a Committee on an exploring tour, which Committee, going to hear a city preacher, heard in his place a young man lately graduated from the divinity school; that they were so impressed with his heartiness in his work they requested an introduction and invited him to add one more to the number of competing candidates; that he politely but firmly declined, not believing, this the proper method of obtaining a clergyman that, after making inquiries of his Professors and others, and receiving instructions to go forward from the church at home, the Committee did proceed to call the Rev. Mr. Angus to be their pastor; that, after several weeks of earnest prayer for guidance, he did accept their call, the public services of his ordination to take place the week following his first sermon.
His arrival in the town, which I shall call Grantbury, late on Saturday evening, had given the family little opportunity for forming an opinion of the new pastor; that he was tall and vigorous in frame, with a countenance sad rather than smiling, eyes looking far away, a sweet, musical voice with a sad note running through it, was all that they knew of him until they took their seats in church directly in front of the pulpit. The sermon was on Christ's invitation to the weary and heavy laden to come to him for rest. In the most graphic language he depicted the condition of these poor, sad, weary sufferers, bearing their heavy burden of sin and sorrow, longing to be rid of it, but knowing not how to throw it off, groaning in secret places, with an abiding dread of what the future might bring to them. He brought tears to many eyes unused to weep, by the vividness with which he portrayed the soul in darkness, but longing for the light, empty, void of faith in God or man, shut up in a prison of gloomy thought and forebodings, every day verging toward the frightful chasm of despair.
Listening to the preacher's voice trembling with pathos, no one could doubt that he well understood by personal experience the condition of those to whom our blessed Lord extended this gracious invitation. Every eye was fixed on his, every heart followed him; but when, turning from the weary and heavy laden, he pointed to the One who could deliver them from all their wretchedness, the note of sadness still lingered. Instead of the triumphant ring of victory from the freed soul, the tone of peace and rest from those delivered from their heavy load, there was an unexplained want of harmony between the manner and voice of the speaker and the subject of which he was treating. A general restlessness among the audience proved their disappointment.