“In this town, the church is unfinished; and the people, as you can see, are using a tiny wooden chapel. This big new church,” stopping before a dignified building of gray stone, “has been under construction since 1910. The outside, as you see, is practically done; but the inside is a mass of scaffolding.”
“Yes,” said Nancy, “I can see some of it through that window. But why take so long to build one church?”
“The people have not enough money to finish it all at once; and although they give most generously to the church, it may be ten or fifteen years before the building is ready for use. They never use a church until it is entirely completed; and, apparently, do not borrow to build, as we do in the States, but simply go as fast as their money on hand will permit.”
“I think it marvelous,” said Miss Ashton, “that even in twenty-five years the people of a section like this could put up such a church. Surely the congregation is not large; and it is quite obvious that they are not possessed of much of this world’s goods.”
“It is wonderful,” admitted Jim; “but you see their whole life centers around the church, and they give, according to our standards of giving, far out of proportion to their means.”
“But how on earth do these people ever get anywhere?” asked Martha. “There is no sign of a railroad.”
“They drive; or if by chance (which is very seldom) they want to go some distance, the railroad can be reached, although it swings inland from Digby to Yarmouth instead of following the coast line. There is a reason for that curve in the Atlantic Dominion Line. It is said that when the course of the railroad was laid out, the priest who had charge of this district begged not to have it pass through these little French villages. His request was granted, and few distractions of the world outside disturb his people. The position of the priest here is most important; for he is judge, lawyer, general friend and adviser, as well as pastor.”
“Seems like a mighty drab sort of life, I think,” said Martha, skeptically.
“It does look that way to us,” said Miss Ashton, “who have made a regular fetish of what we call progress. But I wonder if perhaps in the real happiness that comes from peace and contentment, they haven’t the better of us.”
“In other words,” said Jeanette softly, “you think it possible that they have ‘chosen the better part.’”