"Why! friend Norton;" at length exclaimed Mr. Brown, "have you really lost your cheerfulness, at last?"
"Yes", replied Mr. Norton, slowly. "I must confess that I am wellnigh discouraged respecting the reformation of this people. Here, I have been preaching to them these weeks the gospel of love, presenting Christ to them as their friend and Saviour, holding up the truth in its most lovely and winning forms. It has apparently made no impression upon their hearts. It is true, they come in crowds to hear me, but what I say to them makes no permanent mark. They forget it, the moment the echo of my voice dies upon their ears. The fact is, friend Brown, I am disappointed. I did hope the Lord would have given this people unto me. But", continued he, after a moment's pause, "what right have I to be desponding? God reigns".
"According to all accounts", replied Mr. Brown, "they must be a hard set to deal with, both mentally and morally. I should judge, from what Miss Adèle tells me of your instructions, that you have not put them upon the same rigid regimen of law and truth, that you may remember you prescribed for my spiritual cure". Mr. Brown smiled. "Perhaps", he continued, "these men are not capable of appreciating the mild aspect of mercy. They do not possess the susceptibility to which you have been appealing. They need to have the terrors of the law preached to them".
"Ah! that is it, friend Brown, you have it. I am convinced it is so. I have fell it for several days past. But I do dislike, extremely, to endeavor to chain them to the truth by fear. Love is so much more noble a passion to enlist for Christ. Yet they must be drawn by some motive from their sins. Love often follows in the wake and casts out fear".
"I remember", said Mr. Brown, "to have heard Mr. N——, the famous Maine lumber-merchant, who you know is an infidel, say that the only way the lumbermen can be kept from stealing each other's logs, is by preaching to them eternal punishment".
"No doubt it is true", replied the good man, "and if these souls cannot be sweetly constrained into the beautiful fields of peace, they must be compelled into them by the terrors of that death that hangs over the transgressor. Besides, I feel a strong presentiment that some great judgment is about to descend upon this people. All day, the thought has weighed upon me like an incubus. I cannot shake it off. Something terrible is in store for them. What it may be, I know not. But I am impressed with the duty of preaching a judgment to come to them, this very afternoon. I will do it".
A slight rattling of dishes at the door announced the arrival of Bess, with a tray of refreshment for Mr. Brown, and, at the same moment, the tinkling of a bell below, summoned Mr. Norton to the table.
Half an hour later, the missionary, with a slow pace and the air of one oppressed with a great burden, walked to the Grove. He seated himself on a rustic bench and with his head resting on the trunk of an immense elm, which overshadowed him, sat absorbed in earnest thought, while the people gathered in a crowd around him.
At length, the murmuring voices were hushed into quiet. He rose, took up his pocket Testament, read a portion of the tenth chapter of Hebrews, offered a prayer, and then sang in his trumpet tones, Charles Wesley's magnificently solemn hymn, commencing,—
"Lo! on a narrow neck of land
'Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand
Secure! insensible!"