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Chautauqua Girls at Home, The

<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> <h3>A WHITE SUNDAY.</h3> AMONG other topics that were discussed with great interest during that call at Dr. Dennis' was the Sunday-school, and the place that our girls were to take in it, Flossy was not likely to forget that matter. Her heart was too full of plans concerning "those boys." Early in the talk she overwhelmed and embarrassed Dr. Dennis with the request that she might be allowed to try that class. Now if it had been Ruth or Marion who had made the same request, it would have been unhesitatingly granted. The doctor had a high opinion of the intellectual abilities of both these young ladies, and now that they had appeared to consecrate those abilities, he was willing to receive them. But this little summer butterfly, with her small sweet ways and winning smile! He had no more idea that she could teach than that a humming-bird could; and of all classes in the school, to expect to do anything with those large wild boys! It was preposterous. "My dear friend," he said, and he could hardly keep from smiling, even though he was embarrassed, "you have no idea what you are asking! That is altogether the most difficult class in the school. Some of our best teachers have failed there. The fact is, those boys don't want to be instructed; they are in search of fun. They are a hard set, I am really afraid. I wouldn't have you tried and discouraged by them. We are at a loss what to do with them, I will admit; for no one who can do it seems willing to try them. In fact, I am not sure that we have anyone who can. I understand your motive, Miss Flossy, and appreciate your zeal; but you must not crush yourself in that way. Since you have been out of the Sunday-school for so many years, and, I presume, have not made the Bible a study—unhappily, it is not used as a text book in many of our schools—would it not be well for you to join some excellent Bible-class for awhile? I think you would like it better, and grow faster, and we really have some superior teachers among the Bible-classes." And while he said this, the wise doctor hoped in his heart that she would not be offended with his plain speaking, and that some good angel would suggest to Marion Wilbur the propriety of trying that class of boys. Flossy was not offended, though Marion Wilbur, spoken to in the same way, would have been certain to have felt it. Little Flossy, though sorely disappointed, so much so that she could hardly keep the tears from rising, admitted that she did not know how to teach, and that, of course, she ought to study the Bible, and would like ever so much to do so. It so happened that the other girls were more than willing to be enrolled as pupils; indeed, had not an idea of taking any other position. So, after a little more talk, it was decided that they all join Dr. Dennis' class, every one of them expressing a prompt preference for that class above the others. In his heart Dr. Dennis entirely approved of this arrangement, for he wanted the training of Flossy and Eurie, and he meant to make teachers of the other two as soon as possible. Now it came to pass that an unlooked-for element came into all this planning—none other than the boys themselves. They had ideas of their own, and they belonged to that part of the world which is hard to govern. They would have Miss Flossy Shipley to be their teacher, and they would have no one else; she suited them exactly, and no one else did. "But, my dear boys," Dr. Dennis said, "Miss Shipley is new to the work of teaching; she is but a learner herself; she feels that her place is in the Bible-class, so that she may acquire the best ways of presenting lessons." "Did she say she wouldn't teach us?" queried Rich. Johnson, with his keen eyes fixed on the doctor's face. What could that embarrassed but truthful man do but slowly shake his head, and say, hesitatingly: "No, she didn't say that; but I advised her to join a Bible-class for awhile." "Then we want her," Rich. said, stoutly. "Don't we, boys? She just suits us, Dr. Dennis; and she is the first one we ever had that we cared a snap for. We had just about made up our minds to quit it; but, on the whole, if we can have her we will give it another trial." This strange sentence was uttered in a most matter-of-fact business way, and the perplexed doctor, quite unused to dealing with that class of brain and manners, was compelled to beat a retreat, and come to Flossy with his novel report. A gleam of satisfaction, not to say triumph, lighted up her pretty face, and aglow with smiles and blushes, she made her way with alacrity to her chosen class. Teachers and scholars thoroughly suited with each other; surely they could do some work during that hour that would tell on the future. Meantime, the superintendent was having his perplexities over in another corner of the room. He came to Dr. Dennis at last for advice. "Miss Hart is absent to-day; her class is almost impossible to supply; no one is willing to try the little midgets." "Miss Hart," Dr. Dennis repeated, thoughtfully; "the primary class, eh; it is hard to manage; and yet, with all the sub-teachers present, one would think it might be done." "They are not all present," Mr. Stuart said. "They never are." Dr. Dennis ignored this remark. "I'll tell you what to do," he said, with a sudden lighting up of his thoughtful face. "Get Miss Wilbur to go in there; she is equal to the emergency, or I am much mistaken." Mr. Stuart started in unqualified astonishment. "I thought," he said, recovering his voice, "that you seriously objected to her as a teacher in Sabbath-school?" "I have changed my mind," Dr. Dennis said, with a happy smile, "or, the Lord has changed her heart. Ask her to take the class." So two of our girls found work. Another thing occurred to make that Sabbath a memorable one. The evening was especially lovely, and, there happening to be no other attraction, a much larger number than usual of the First Church people got out to the second service. Our girls were all present, and, what was unusual, other representatives from their families were with them. Also, Col. Baker had obliged himself to endure the infliction of another sermon from Dr. Dennis, in order that he might have the pleasure of a walk home in the glorious moonlight with Miss Flossy. The sermon was one of special solemnity and power. The pastor's recent communion with new-born souls had quickened his own heart and increased the longing desire for the coming of the Spirit of God into their midst. At the sermon's close, he took what, for the First Church, was a very wide and startling departure from the beaten track. After a tender personal appeal, especially addressed to the young people of his flock, he said: "Now, impelled by what I cannot but feel is the voice of the Lord Jesus, by his Spirit, I want to ask if there are any present who feel so much of a desire to be numbered with the Lord's friends, that they are willing to ask us to pray for them, to the end that they may be found of him. Is there one in this audience who, by rising and standing for but a moment, will thus simply and quietly indicate to us such a desire and willingness?" Who ever heard of the First Church pastor doing so strange a thing? His people had voted for festivals, and concerts, and lectures, and picnics, and entertainments of all sorts and shades. They had taken rising votes, and they had voted by raising the hand; they had made speeches, many of them, on the questions to be presented; they had added their voice to the pastor's explanations; they had urged the wisdom and the propriety of the question presented; they had said they earnestly hoped the matter would meet careful attention; and no one in the church had thought such proceedings strange. But to ask people to rise in their seats, and thus signify that they were thinking of the question of eternal life, and home, and peace, and unutterable blessedness—what innovation was this? Much rustling and coughing took place; then solemn silence prevailed. Not a deacon there, or officer of any sort, had the least idea of audibly hoping that the pastor's words would receive thoughtful attention; not a person arose; the silence was felt to be embarrassing and oppressive to the last degree. Dr. Dennis relieved them at last by reading the closing hymn. During the reading, when startled thoughts became sufficiently composed to flow in their accustomed channels, many, almost unconsciously to themselves, prepared speeches which they meant to utter the moment their lips were unsealed by the pronouncing of the benediction. "A very strange thing to do." "What could Dr. Dennis be thinking of?" "A most unwise effort to force the private lives of people before the public." "An unfortunate attempt to get up an excitement." "Well meant, but most ill-timed and mistaken zeal, which would have a reaction that would do harm." These and a dozen other mental comments that roved through people's brains, while they were supposed to be joining in the hymn of praise, were suddenly cut short by the sound of Dr. Dennis' voice again—not in benediction, as surely they had a right to expect by this time, but with another appeal. "I am still of the impression that there are those present who are doing violence to their convictions of right, and to good judgment, by not responding to my invitation. Let us remember to pray for all such. Now, I want to ask if there are any in this congregation who have lately proved the truth of the doctrine that there is a Saviour from sin, and a peace that the world cannot give. If there are those present, who have decided this question recently, will they rise for a moment, thus testifying to the truth of the words which have been spoken this evening, and thus witnessing that they have chosen the Lord Jesus for their portion?" Another sensation! Dr. Dennis must have taken leave of his senses! This was more embarrassing than the last. The wise ones were sure that there had been no conversions in a long time. So far as they knew and believed, entirely other thoughts were occupying the minds of the people. Then, into the midst of this commotion of thought, there stole that solemn hush, almost of heart-beatings, which betokens a new revelation, that astonishes and thrills and solemnizes. There were persons standing. Ladies! One—two—three. Yes, one in the gallery. There were four of them! Who were they? Why, that little, volatile Flossy Shipley was one! How strange! And that girl in the gallery was the teacher at one of the Ward schools. It had been rumored that she was an infidel! Who in the world was that beside Judge Erskine? It couldn't be his daughter! Yet it certainly was. And behold, in the doctor's pew stood Eurie, the young lady who was so free and careless in her manners and address, that, were it not for the fact that she was the doctor's daughter, her very respectability would have stood a chance of being questioned! As it was, there were mothers in the church who were quite willing that their daughters should have as little to do with her as possible. Yet, to-night their daughters sat beside them, unable to rise, in any way to testify to the truth of the religion of Jesus Christ; and Eurie Mitchell, with grave, earnest face, in which decision and determination were plainly written, stood up to testify that the Lord was true to his promises. Gradually there dawned upon the minds of many who knew these girls, the remembrance that they had been together to that great Sunday-school meeting at Chautauqua. How foolish the scheme had seemed to them when they heard of it; how sneeringly they had commented on the absurdity of such supposed representatives from the Sunday-school world. Surely this seeming folly had been the power of God, and the wisdom of God. There were those in the first church, as, indeed, there are many in every church of Christ, who rejoiced with all their souls at the sound of this good news. There was another thing that occurred that night over which the angels, at least, rejoiced. There was another witness. He was only a poor young fellow, a day laborer in one of the machine shops, a new-comer to the city. He knew almost nobody in that great church where he had chanced to be a worshipper, and, literally no one knew him. When the invitation was first given, he had shrunken from it. Satan, with ever-ready skill, and with that consummate wisdom which makes him as eager after the common day laborers as he is among the wealthy and influential, had whispered to him that the pastor did not mean such as he; no one knew him, his influence would be nothing. This church was too large and too grand, and it was not meant that he should make himself so conspicuous as to stand alone in that great audience-room, and testify that the Lord Jesus had called him. So he sat still; but as one and another of those young ladies arose quietly, with true dignity and sweet composure testifying to their love for the Lord, John Warden's earnest soul was moved to shame at his own shrinking, and from his obscure seat, back under the gallery, he rose up, and Satan, foiled that time, shrunk away. As for our girls, they held no parley with their consciences, or with the tempter; they did not even think of it. On the contrary, they were glad, every one, that the way was made so plain and so easy to them. Each of them had friends whom they especially desired to have know of the recent and great change that had come to their lives. With some of these friends they shrank unaccountably from talking about this matter. With others of them they did not understand how to made the matter plain. But here it was explained for them, so plainly, so simply, that it seemed that every one must understand, and their own future determination as to life was carefully explained for them. There was nothing to do but to rise up, and, by that simple act, subscribe their names to the explanation—so making it theirs. I declare to you that the thought of its being a cross to do so did not once occur to them. Neither did the thought that they were occupying a conspicuous position affect them. They were used to conspicuous positions; they had been twice as prominent in that very church when other subjects than religion had been under consideration. At a certain festival, years before, they had every one taken part in a musical entertainment that <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'b ought'">brought</ins> them most conspicuously before an audience three times the size of the evening congregation. So you see they were used to it. And, as for the fancy that it becomes a more conspicuous and unladylike matter to stand up for the Lord Jesus Christ, than it does to stand up for anything else under the sun; Satan was much too wise, and knew his material entirely too well, to suggest any such absurdity to them. Flossy had been the only one of their number in the least likely to be swayed by such arguments. But Flossy had set herself with earnest soul and solemn purpose to follow the light wherever it should shine, without allowing her timid heart time for questioning, and the father of all evil finds such people exceedingly hard to manage. "How do you do," said Dr. Dennis to John Warden, two minutes after the benediction was fully pronounced. "I was very glad to see you to-night. I am not sure that I have ever met you? No? I thought so; a stranger? Well, we welcome you. Where do you board?" And a certain black book came promptly out of the doctor's pocket. John Warden's name, and street, and number, and business were written therein, and John Warden felt for the first time in his life as though he had a Christian brother in that great city, and a name and a place with the people of God. Another surprise a waited him. Marion and Eurie were right behind him. Marion came up boldly and held out her hand: "We seem to have started on the road together," she said. "We ought to shake hands, and wish each other a safe journey." Then she and Eurie and John Warden shook each other heartily by the hand; and Flossy, standing watching, led by this bolder spirit into that which would not have occurred to her to do, slipped from her place beside Col. Baker, and, holding her lavender kidded little hand out to his broad brown palm, said, with a grace and a sweetness that belonged to neither of the others: "I am one of them." Whereupon John Warden was not sure that he had not shaken hands with an angel. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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