CHAPTER XXII.
THE LAST SCENE.
The lives of a great many people are distinguished by a few romantic events, but no man’s life is one continuous series of startling incidents. Life flows in a regular channel, and its romantic portions are mere episodes. The great bulk of mankind are doomed to toil for the necessaries of existence. Hence, every day is alike. They go through the same dull routine—the same tread-mill process of eat, drink, sleep, work.
It could not, therefore, be reasonably expected that the career of a minister, like Ernest, living in a quiet provincial town, should be distinguished for thrilling experiences. The clerical life is generally tranquil and unromantic. The preacher visits the sick, comforts the distressed, resolves the doubts of the skeptical, preaches the gospel, Sabbath after Sabbath, and in this way the days glide by till death transfers him to a higher state of existence. After the remarkable episode, involving Comston’s startling history, nothing occurred, for years, in the life of Ernest which would be of interest to the mere story reader. At present he is performing his ministerial duties, assisted by Mildred, with unostentatious piety.
One Sabbath there was an unusually large congregation assembled in Ernest’s church. It had been published that he would, by special request, preach a doctrinal sermon.
On Monday morning there was considerable excitement throughout the community. Many of those who had believed the opposite doctrine, were caused to reflect, and made to examine the ground-work of their creed. Little groups gathered on the streets and in the stores to discuss the sermon of the day before.
“Well,” said good old father Grimshaw, “if I believed as Brother Edgefield does, I would never go to church any more. In fact, I’d never do anything, but I’d take my fill of sin—yes I would.”
“I am utterly astounded,” answered a Presbyterian elder, “to hear you talk that way, father Grimshaw. If you were to take your fill of sin, how could you be a Christian? Can a Christian love sin?”