"Why, his preaching is all well enough, I suppose; I never heard any preaching that wouldn't do pretty well, considering; it's the practising that I find fault with. I can't find anybody that seems to be doing what the preachers advise. What is the use in preaching all the time, if nobody goes and does it?"
This was Farmer Morgan's favourite topic, as indeed it seems to be a favourite with a great many people—the inconsistencies of the Christian world. A fruitful topic, certainly; and it is bitterly to be regretted that there is cause for such unending sarcasm on that subject. Lewis had heard the same sentiment often before, and being met—as, unfortunately, so many of us are—by an instant realization of his own inconsistencies, his mouth had been stopped at once. To-day he rallied his waning courage, and resolved upon a point-blank question.
"Well, father, why don't you, who understand so well how a Christian ought to live, set us an example, and perhaps we will succeed better when we try to copy you?"
This question astounded Farmer Morgan. Coming from a minister, he would have considered it pretty sharp; have laughed at it good-naturedly, and turned it aside. But from his own son, and spoken in such a tone of gravity and earnestness as left no room for trifling, it startled him. Lewis had never spoken to him in that direct fashion before. In truth, Lewis had been, during all his Christian life at home, comforting his heart and excusing his conscience with the belief that, in order not to prejudice his father against religion, he would do well to make no personal appeals of any sort. To-day, in the light of the brief conversation which he had held with his wife, and, more than that, in the light of the brief prayer in which they had asked the guidance of the Holy Spirit, he began to conclude that he had been a coward.
"Well," his father said, after a moment of astonished silence, "that is a fair question, maybe; but then, after all, it is easily answered. There's folks enough trying at it, and making failures, without me to swell their number. Till I see somebody who is succeeding a little better than any one I know, I haven't got the courage to begin."
"Leaving us an example, that ye should fellow His steps," quoted Lewis Morgan solemnly. "After all, father, the true pattern is certainly perfect; why not follow that? Who ever asks the school-boy to imitate the scrawl of some fellow-pupil, so long as the perfect copy is just before his eyes, at the top of the page?"
His father regarded him meditatively. Was he touched at last—impressed by the thought of the wonderful life waiting for him to follow? Lewis Morgan's breath came quickly, and he waited in trembling eagerness for the reply. It was the first time that he had attempted anything like a personal conversation on this subject with his father.
Slowly, and with apparent great seriousness, the answer came at last:—
"It is almost a pity that your health didn't hold out; I ain't sure, after all, but you would have made as good a minister as the rest of them. Sometimes I'm a trifle afraid that you have got a little too much learning to make a downright good farmer."
The quick bounds of hope that the son's blood was making receded in dull, heavy throbs, and he counted his first attempt a failure. He looked over to Louise. Was not she ready to give up this hopeless attempt at spiritualizing the tone of the conversation downstairs? He thought he would give almost anything to hide his sore heart just then in the quiet of their own room, with the sympathy of her presence to soothe him.