The wedding-day was a day of great rejoicing, considerable solemnity, and not a little fun; for the religion of the Pitcairners, being drawn direct from the inspired Word, was the reverse of dolorous. Indeed, the simplicity of their faith was extreme, for it consisted in merely asking the question, “What does God wish me to do?” and doing it.
Of course the simplicity of this rule was, in Pitcairn as elsewhere, unrecognised by ignorance, or rendered hazy and involved by stupidity. Adams had his own difficulties in combating the effects of evil in the hearts of his children, for, as we have said before, they were by no means perfect, though unusually good.
For instance, one day one of those boys who was passing into the hobbledehoy stage of life, came with a perplexed air, and said—
“Didn’t you tell us in school yesterday, father, that if we were good Jesus would save us?”
“No, Jack Mills, I told you just the reverse. I told you that if Jesus saved you you would be good.”
“Then why doesn’t He save me and make me good?” asked Jack, anxious to cast the blame of his indecision about his salvation off his own shoulders.
“Because you refuse to be saved,” said Adams, pointedly.
Jack Mills felt and looked somewhat hurt at this. He was one of the steadiest boys at the school, always learned his tasks well, and was generally pretty well behaved; but there was in him an ugly, half-hidden root of selfishness, which he did not himself perceive.
“Do you remember going to the shore yesterday?” asked Adams, replying to the look,—for the boy did not speak.
“Yes, father.”