Father Brighthopes Part 33

"Ay, that is the question," said Father Brighthopes. "I don't know but you have. I hope you have. But you must consider that to do this thing for your own glory, and not in the service of our Saviour, will be other than acceptable in his sight."

"We trust to do all things, connected with the church, to the praise and glory of G.o.d," returned Mr. Corlis.

"Then your labors will bring their reward. But there are still important considerations claiming our attention. I think the Lord is better pleased with other things than pretty meeting-houses. They who build up his CHURCH find more favor in his sight than the mere constructors of elegant place of worship."

"But, to build up the church, we must commence with the frame-work to shelter it," observed Deacon Dustan; "at least, it appears so to me."

"The true church of Christ is in our own hearts," returned the old man, with a gentle smile.

Deacon Dustan's mind was of too material a cast fully to appreciate this truth; so he only nodded mechanically, and said,

"In one sense, certainly."

"To build that up, should be our first care. That we can do without carpenter's tools, plank or plaster. _Righteousness_ is the great building material, and _Love_ is the head workman. Christ has not said, 'Rear me stately edifices, and make my houses pleasing unto me with velvet, gilding and paint.' But he has told his followers to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to visit the afflicted and comfort them, to lift up the downt-rodden. My brethren," said the old man, "this do as long as ye have any in poverty and distress among you; then, I say, if you can _afford_ it, build a meeting-house of gold, and the Lord will be pleased with the work."

The rebuke, although uttered in all kindness and love, came home, with overwhelming force, to all hearts at that time, when they had just witnessed the squalor and rags of a faithful Christian brother in their very midst. Mr. Corlis, who was expected to reply, was struck speechless.

"There is a great deal of truth in what you say," observed Deacon Dustan, after a painful silence. "Some of it applies to us, without doubt; but not so much as you suppose. In our own society, you will not find any one left to suffer poverty. If we have ever neglected poor Job Bowen,--and, I confess, I, for one, have not been so thoughtful of him as I should be, even if he were the vilest sinner in the world,--our excuse is, that he differs from our persuasion. He is not one of our brethren."

"Christ knows not one sect from another, it is the _heart_ he judges,"

said the old man. "'_Whoever_ doeth the will of my Father, the same is my brother.' For my part, I never thought to inquire into the creed of our poor Christian friend, Job Bowen. It is enough for me to know that his Saviour is my Saviour."

n.o.body made answer; and, after a pause, Father Brighthopes added,

"Ah! how sweetly the evening comes on! Look, there is the evening star in the soft blue sky! You will have fine weather for haying to-morrow."

The subject of the new meeting-house was not renewed.

By way of contrast with the foregoing scenes, let us now turn to others, of a different nature.

Scarcely had Deacon Dustan and the elder portion of his gentlemen guests set out on their walk, when Mr. Benjamin Smith, a brother of our old acquaintance, Josephine, drove up to the door with a load of saddles.

Benjamin had been to collect them around the neighborhood. The young people were going to ride. Equestrian exercises had been hinted at by Mr. Kerchey, whose fine, spirited horses were at the disposal of the party, and the girls had caught eagerly at the idea.

Mr. Kerchey was not used to the saddle; but Sarah Royden was, and that was enough for him to know. He himself was a little afraid of mounting a mettled horse; but, since she was so fond of the recreation, he had no desire to consult his own feelings in the matter.

"I--I wish you would tell me how--ah--these girths go," he said to Chester, after laboring hard for a quarter of an hour saddling his handsomest horse for Sarah. "I wish--one of my--ah--hired men was here--so that I--ah--would not have to--would not be obliged to trouble you."

"No trouble at all," cried Chester, who, meanwhile, had saddled four horses in front of Deacon Dustan's barn.

He stepped to the stable to see what Mr. Kerchey was about, and, at a glance, burst into a roar of laughter. The amateur farmer had put on the side-saddle, not exactly bottom upwards, but turned square around; and he was trying to buckle the girths upon the stirrup-strap.

"I think Sarah would hesitate to ride with the saddle just in this position," said Chester, checking his merriment.

He skilfully made the required change, and buckled the girths with such rapidity as struck Mr. Kerchey with amazement, and quite discouraged him from ever touching a side-saddle again.

"You see--I--I--I am not--ah--accustomed to this sort of--of business,"

he stammered, coloring very red.

A dozen horses were saddled and led to the door. In the meantime the girls had prepared themselves for the sport.

"Oh!" screamed Miss Josephine Smith, as the gallant Chester helped her mount from the block, "my nervth are tho delicate!"

How different Sarah! She sat Mr. Kerchey's handsome horse like a queen, holding her head proudly, as he playfully pranced and reared.

"I--I--hope--I hope there is no--ah--danger?" articulated the amateur farmer, as he reluctantly loosed his hold of the bridle.

Sarah laughed merrily, and boldly struck the animal with her whip. It made Mr. Kerchey gasp to see him bound and plunge. But she kept her balance miraculously.

After seeing that every girth was well fastened, and every fair rider safely mounted, Chester leaped into his own saddle from the turf, without touching foot to stirrup. But he dismounted again immediately, smothering his laughter as well as he could.

All the gentlemen were mounted, except Mr. Kerchey.

His horse, excited by seeing his mate, governed by Sarah, dance about the yard, would not stand still an instant, or come up to the block.

Harry Dustan, laughing at his distress, had cantered gayly away with Miss Sedley, the "school-ma'am." Only Chester was thoughtful enough to go to Mr. Kerchey's relief.

The latter, heated, agitated, and wofully perplexed, was beginning to see that riding horseback was a far more serious affair than he had imagined. He witnessed the bold riding of his neighbors with dismay.

Galloping was to him a perfect mystery. His courage and ambition had never gone beyond a gentle trot. The mere thought of dashing off side by side with Sarah made him dizzy.

"Can't you mount?" asked Chester, soberly, considering the circ.u.mstances.

"No--I--that is--perhaps--on the whole--I'd better not--ah--attempt it."

"Oh, that won't do! What will the girls say?"

"But, you see--it is all--ah--new to me," stammered Mr. Kerchey.

"You'll get into the way of it at once," replied Chester, in an encouraging tone. "It's as easy as running down hill, or running up--an account. Now,"--he wheeled the horse to the block,--"put your leg over the saddle. No! the other leg,--your right one,--unless you want to ride backwards."

XXVIII.

MR. KERCHEY'S DARING EXPLOIT.

After considerable trouble, Mr. Kerchey was mounted, with his feet thrust into the stirrups up to the ankles.

Chester, perceiving the smiling faces of the old ladies at the windows and at the door, watching the performance, was so convulsed with mirth that he could with difficulty get once more into the saddle. But the girls had now all galloped up the road, and, with no inducement to make a display of agility and strength, he braced his toe in the stirrup, and leisurely mounted.

Mr. Kerchey was a little ahead of him, making too ludicrous an appearance to be easily described. He looked like an animated bag of flour, Chester said, awkwardly balanced, jolting painfully, and seeming momently ready to tumble off.

"Oh, you do bravely!" cried the young man, dashing past him, on a smart gallop.

Mr. Kerchey groaned, and grasped the saddle with his left hand, desperately, resolved to ride faster.

The party had halted a little way up the road, and Chester made haste to send Sarah back to keep Mr. Kerchey company. At first she refused to go, but conceiving the idea of some fun, consented to the arrangement, and rode to meet her admirer.