“Anyhow,” the preacher muttered, returning to his pulpit and his sermon, “I’d rather preach than fight.”
Not by any means all Higgins’s sermons are of this nature; most are conventional enough, perhaps–but always vigorous and serviceable–and present the ancient Christian philosophy in an appealing and deeply reverent way. I recall, however, another downright and courageous display of dealing with the facts without gloves. It was especially fearless because the Pilot must have the permission of the proprietors before he may preach in the camps. It is related that a drunken logger–the proprietor of the camp–staggered into Higgins’s service and sat down on the barrel which served for the pulpit. The preacher was discoursing on the duties of the employed to the employer. It tickled the drunken logger.
“Hit ’em again, Pilot!” he applauded. “It’ll do ’em good.”
Higgins pointed out the wrong worked the owners by the lumber-jacks’ common custom of “jumping camp.”
“Give ’em hell!” shouted the logger. “It’ll do ’em good.”
Higgins proceeded calmly to discuss the several evils of which the lumber-jacks may be accused in relation to their employers.
“You’re all right, Pilot,” the logger agreed, clapping the preacher on the back. “Hit the –– rascals again! It’ll do ’em good.”
“And now, boys,” Higgins continued, gently, “we come to the other side of the subject. You owe a lot to your employers, and I’ve told you frankly what your minister thinks about it. But what can be expected of you, anyhow? Who sets you a good example of fair dealing and decent living? Your employers? Look about you and see! What kind of an example do your employers set? Is it any wonder,” he went on, in a breathless silence, “that you go wrong? Is it any wonder that you fail to consider those who fail to consider you? Is it any wonder that you are just exactly what you are, when the men to whom you ought to be able to look for better things are themselves filthy and drunken loafers?”
The logger was thunderstruck.