CHAPTER XX.
BUD AS A TEACHER.
IT became a matter of astonishment to discover how many friends the oldchurch had, and from what unexpected quarters they appeared.
It really seemed as though each worker had an uncle, or brother, orcousin, of whom she had not given a thought in this connection, who yetgrew interested and offered help.
It was Anna Graves who started this special form of help, by anannouncement that she made one morning:
"Girls, what do you think! My uncle Will is coming to stay two weeks,and he says he will fresco the church ceiling for us, if we will becontent with plain work that he can do rapidly."
It did not take the eager listeners long to promise to be content withthe very plainest work that could be imagined. Their imagination hadnot thought of reaching after frescoed ceilings.
"That is an idea!" said Nettie Burdick. "I wonder if Joe and Charliewould not help us?"
Now Joe and Charlie were wall-paperers in the city; and it was only afew days thereafter that Nettie announced with great satisfaction thatthey would come out and paper the old church, for their share in thegood work.
Then came Ruth Jennings' brother-in-law who was in business in amore distant city, and having called for Ruth and waited for her onthe evening when that perplexing question of window-shades was beingdiscussed, he volunteered a delightful bit of information:
"Didn't they know about the new paper in imitation of stained glass?So good an imitation that when well laid it would take an expert todistinguish the difference."
No, indeed, they had never heard of such a thing; and all otherbusiness was suspended while the brother-in-law was plied withquestions, the conclusion of the matter being that he said "their firm"dealt quite largely in this new invention, and he could have enough forthis little church supplied at cost, if they would like to go into it.And being able to give in round numbers the probable cost, the girlsgleefully voted to "go into it," provided they could secure any personwho knew how to manage it. This at once developed further resourcesbelonging to the brother-in-law. He knew all about it, and would laythe paper for them with pleasure, if some of the "fellows" would help.He would just as soon spend a day in that way as not.
"Stained-glass windows!" said Ruth Jennings, with a long-drawn sighof satisfaction. "As if South Plains had ever dreamed of attaining tosuch heights! Girls, _will_ the old red curtains do for dusters, do youbelieve, if we wash them tremendously?"
The very next day brought them another surprise. Miss Benedict readpart of a letter from "mamma," wherein it appeared that a certain Mr.Stuart, of the firm of Stuart, Greenough & Co., had become interestedin the church at South Plains, through Dora's reports of what absorbedher sister's energies, and in grateful remembrance of certain helpswhich Claire's father had given their church in its struggling infancy,he had selected a walnut desk and two pulpit chairs, which he had takenthe liberty to ship to Miss Claire Benedict, with his kind regards andearnest wish that her efforts might be prospered, even as her father'shad been before her.
Over this astonishing piece of news some of the girls actually cried.The pulpit desk and chairs had represented a formidable bill of expenselooming up before them.
Each had been privately sure that they would be obliged at last to takethose which would jar on their esthetic tastes, out of respect to theleanness of the church purse. And here was solid walnut, selected by aman of undoubted taste and extensive knowledge in this direction. Idon't think it strange that they cried!
Mary Burton, while she wiped her eyes, made a remark which wasstartling to some of the girls:
"How much your father has done for us this winter!" and she lookeddirectly at Claire Benedict. Didn't Mary remember that the dear fatherwas dead?
But Miss Benedict understood. Her eyes which had remained bright withexcitement until then, suddenly dimmed; but her smile and her voicewere very sweet.
"Oh, Mary! thank you!" was all she said.
Among the workers it would have been hard to find one more faithfulor more energetic than Bud. He was full of eager, happy life. Muchdepended upon him. He could blacken stoves with the skill of aprofessional, and none were ever more vigorously rubbed than thoserusty, ash-be-strewn ones which had so long disgraced the church. Ithad been good for Bud to have others awaken to the fact that there werecertain things which he could do, and do well.
An eventful winter this was to him. Having made an actual start towardJerusalem, it was found that he put more energy into the journey thanmany who had been long on the way; and, as a matter of course, beforelong it became apparent that he was taking rapid strides.
Miss Alice Ansted was among the first to realize it. She came to Claireone evening with embarrassed laughter, and a half-serious, half-amusedrequest for instruction:
"I'm trying to follow out some of your hints, and they are getting meinto more trouble than anything I ever undertook. Sewing societies andcharity parties are as nothing in comparison. I am trying to teachBud! He wants to study arithmetic; it is an absurd idea, I think; whatwill he ever want of arithmetic? But he was determined, and you weredetermined, and between you I have been foolish enough to undertake it,and now it appears that arithmetic is a very small portion of what hewants to learn. He wants to know everything that there is in the Bible;and where church-members get their ideas about all sorts of things,and what the ministers study in the theological seminary, and why allthe people in the world don't attend prayer-meeting, and I don't knowwhat not! He acts as though his brain had been under a paralysis allhis life, which had just been removed. I must say he astonishes mewith his questions; but it is easier to _ask_ questions than it is toanswer them. What, for instance, am I to say to ideas like these? Sinceyou have gotten me into this scrape, it is no more than fair that youshould help me to see daylight."
And then would follow a discussion, nearly always pertaining to some ofthe practical truths of the Christian life, or to some direction thatBud had found in the course of his daily Bible verse, which seemed tohim at variance with the life which was being lived by the professingChristians about him, and which he turned to his arithmetic-teacher toreconcile.
Bud, being ignorant, found it impossible to understand why people whoprofessed to take the Bible for their rule of life, did not followits teachings, and he brought each fresh problem to Alice Ansted withsuch confident expectation that she knew all about it, that she, whohad only volunteered to explain to him the rules of arithmetic, wasin daily embarrassment. From these conversations, which constantlygrew more close and searching as Bud stumbled on new verses, ClaireBenedict used to turn with a smile of satisfaction, as well as withalmost a feeling of awe, over the wisdom of the Great Teacher. AliceAnsted might be teaching Bud the principles of arithmetic, but he wascertainly daily teaching her the principles of the religion which sheprofessed, but did not _live_.
In fact, others beside Alice Ansted were being taught, or, at least,were being roused, by the newly-awakened mind. The minister had by nomeans forgotten the visit which had glorified the study for that day,and he was still bathing his almost discouraged heart in the brightnessof its memory, when a vigorous knock one morning again interruptedhis studies. His eyes brightened when he saw that the visitor was Bud,and he invited him in with cordial tone. But no, Bud was in haste.There was not a trace of the hesitancy and embarrassment which hadcharacterized his first visit. He spoke with the confidence of one whohad obtained great and sufficient help at this source before, and whoknew that it was the place where help could be found.
"I haven't any time this morning," he said, speaking with a rapiditywhich had begun to characterize his newly awakened life. "I'm down atSnyder's, waiting for the pony to be shod, and there is a fellow theretalking. He says the Bible ain't true; that it is just a lot of made-upstories to cheat women and children and folks that don't know nothing,like me. Well, now, I _know_ that it is no such a thing. I know theBible is true, because I've tried it; but he hasn't tried it, you see,sir, and he won't
because he don't believe in it, and I thought I wouldjust run up here and ask you to give me something to show him that itis all true; something that I can tell him in a hurry, because thepony will be ready in a few minutes."
What in the world was that minister to say? Was ever such anembarrassing question thrust at him?
The evidences of Christianity--yes, he had studied them carefully; ofcourse he had. He had written sermons to prove the truth of the HolyScriptures; he had a row of books on the upper shelf of his library,all of them treating more or less of this subject. He turned and lookedat them; ponderous volumes; it was not possible to take down even thesmallest of them and set Bud to reading it. In the first place, Budwould no more understand the language in which it was written than hewould understand the Greek Testament which stood by its side; and, inthe second place, Bud wanted knowledge that could be transmitted whilethe pony was being shod!
Certainly, this dilemma had its ludicrous side, but had it not alsoits humiliating one? Ought there not to be some word which an educatedman like himself could give in haste to an ignorant boy like Bud?Something so plain that even the pony need not wait while it was beingexplained? Suppose the man at the blacksmith-shop had chosen to sneerover the fact that the earth is round, and Bud had come for an argumentto prove the truth of this fact, how easy it would be to produce one!
Ought he not to be equally ready to defend this much-slandered Bible?Thoughts are very rapid in their transit. Something like these ideasrushed through the scholar's mind while he stood looking up at his rowof books, and Bud stood looking up at him with an air of confidentexpectation.
"Bud," said the minister, turning suddenly away from his book-shelves,"how many persons are there at Snyder's?"
"Eight or nine, sir; maybe more."
"Are they from around here?"
"No, sir; mostly from the country; I don't know any of 'em."
"Well, Bud, I want you to listen carefully while I ask two or threequestions. Suppose you had been there before any of those men, andas one after another began to come in, each should tell of a firethere had been last night in the city. Suppose you knew that they werenot acquainted with each other, and had not met until they reachedthe blacksmith's shop, and suppose they told the same story, withoutcontradicting one another in any of the important particulars, what doyou believe you would conclude about them? Would you think that theyhad told the truth or a made-up story?"
"I reckon it would be the truth, sir; cause how would they know how tomake it up alike?"
"That is just the point," said the gratified minister. While he talkedhe had been watching Bud carefully, much in doubt as to whether he hadmind enough to grasp the illustration, but so far it had evidently beengrasped; now he must see if it could be applied.
"Listen! Did you know that thirty-six people told the story of theBible, and that many of them not only never saw one another, but manyof them died before others of them were born; and that they told thesame story, without contradicting one another at all?"
"No, sir," said Bud, "I didn't know nothing about it. Is that so?"Extreme delight glowed in his honest eyes, and he clutched at his capand made a movement toward the door. "I thank you, sir; I'll go backand tell him; it will be a stunner!"
Away went the newly awakened preacher of the Evidences of Christianity,and the minister went back to his Greek Testament with greatsatisfaction. Bud might not be able to convince the scoffer at theblacksmith's shop; Mr. Ramsey did not expect that he would; he knewthat Satan had many skillful ways of using false weapons and makingthem flash like true steel. The thing which gave him pleasure was, thatBud had understood. He felt nearly certain that the boy's mind wouldnot leave the question there; it would have to be investigated, and he,the minister, would have to get ready to help him.
"We ought to be careful to speak about all these things in such a waythat uneducated people could follow us," he said.
And all that morning, while he worked over his sermon for the followingSabbath, he worked to secure simple words in which to clothe histhought; he sought illustrations to give it clearness; in short,he preached to Bud; almost unconsciously he brought the boy beforehis mind's eye, cap in hand--a symbol of the people whose thoughtsrested for a moment on what you were saying, and then flitted away tosomething else--unless, indeed, the owners were caught during thatmoment. This particular minister had never before so fully realizedthis truth. He had never before labored so hard to catch the attentionof the unskilled listener; nor had he ever become so intenselyinterested in any sermon as he did in that one. If he was to preach itfor Bud, it must be very simple; and in making it very simple, his ownheart took hold of it as a tremendous reality, instead of a thought outof a book.
I hope I shall be understood when I say that Bud wrote the greater partof the minister's sermon that week; though he of course, was utterlyunconscious of the fact.