Will had always lived in the city, and now, anxious to see the lions of the country at once, he proposed to Charlie a ramble over the farm, inviting me to accompany them, which I did willingly, notwithstanding that Charlie muttered something about “not wanting a gal stuck along.”
In the pasture we came across “old Sorrel,” whom Will said he would ride as they did in a circus, if Charlie would only catch him. This was an easy task, for Sorrel, suspecting no evil, came up to us quite readily, when Will, leaping upon his back, commenced whooping and hallooing so loudly that Sorrel’s mettle was up, and for nearly an hour he ran quite as fast as his rider could wish. But circus riding was not Sorrel’s forte, and he probably grew dizzy, for he at length stumbled and fell, injuring his fore foot in some way, so that, to our dismay, we found he was unable to walk without a great effort.
“Je-mi-my! Won’t the old gentleman rare!” said Charlie, who was never very choice of his language.
Will, on the contrary, seemed more concerned for the horse, bringing water in his hat, and bathing the fast-swelling limb of the poor animal, who appeared to be grateful for the kindness. Charlie proposed that we should keep it a secret, but to this Will would not listen, and in a plain, straightforward way he confessed what he had done, and father, who saw that Sorrel was temporarily injured, forgave him, for he could not resist the pleading of Will’s dark eyes.
This was his first day’s adventure—the next one was a little different. Finding a cow in the lane, he tried the experiment of milking, succeeding so well that when at night Sally came in with her half filled pail, she declared that “Line-back was drying up, for she’d only given a drop or so.” For this and numerous other misdemeanors Will also received absolution, but when on the second Sabbath after his arrival he and Charlie both were missed from church, whither they had started a full half hour before the rest of our family, father grew fidgety, holding his hymn book wrong side up, and sitting, instead of standing, during the prayer, a thing he was never known to do before. He was very strict in the observance of the fourth commandment, as indeed were most of the citizens of Meadow Brook, it being an almost State Prison offence to stay away from church on the Sabbath, or speak above a whisper until after sunset.
By the way, I think it a mistake, this converting the Sabbath into a day so much to be dreaded by the youthful, fun-loving members of the family, who are not yet old enough to see the propriety of having in reserve a Sunday face, as well as a Sunday gown. I would not have that sacred day profaned, but I would have it divested of that gloom with which it is too often associated in the child’s mind. I would have everything connected with it as cheerful and pleasant as possible, and in these days of Sabbath schools and Sabbath school-books, it seems an easy matter to make it “The day of all the week the best.” I well remember one rainy Sunday, when the whole family were obliged to remain at home, the younger ones reciting the Catechism to grandma, committing to memory and repeating to mother ten verses of the fifth chapter of Matthew, and then being compelled to sit up stiff and straight while father read to us a long metaphysical sermon, which he interspersed and lengthened out with remarks of his own, among which was the consoling one that “Heaven was one eternal Sabbath.”
This was too much for Charlie, whose mind, instead of dwelling on the words of the good divine, was sadly wandering towards a nest of young white pigs, only that morning born. Turning towards me with a most rueful face, he whispered, “Darned if I’ll go there. I’ll run away first.”
Of course I laughed aloud—how could I help it; and on my saying that “Charlie made me,” we were both ordered from the room in disgrace, which latter we bore manfully—Charlie going straight to his pigs, while I stole up garret to a big candle-box, where, on one of my old dresses, lay sleeping six beautiful kittens.
But I am wandering from my subject, which was the time when Will and Charlie were missing from church, and when, to his utter astonishment, father learned that they had gone to the consecration of a Roman Catholic church, which had recently been erected a little out of the village, on an eminence, where its white cross could be seen from every point.
Against the Catholics as a religious denomination my father was prejudiced, and when he ascertained that his son, born of orthodox parents, and baptized in the orthodox faith, had not only run away to their church, but had also paid twenty-five cents, the price of admission, he was a good deal excited, and for a deacon showed considerable temper. It was, of course, Will’s doings, he having coaxed Charlie to go by telling him of the wonderful sights there were to be seen.