Nestleton Magna Part 32

"That tempting elf was 'Love of Self,'

And 'neath her smile lay lurking An aspish sting--a deadly thing-- Dire, deathless evils working.

"Now Love once more stands thee before, To fill thine eyes with glamour; This gift of mine is love divine, And shall thy soul enamour."

He waved his wand, gave his command,-- "True Love, come forth," said Duty; Before my eyes she did arise, _My_ love, of rarest beauty.

My youth's ideal! Now mine and real; O Love, how long I sought thee!

Cries Love, "I come; Thy heart's my home!

'Twas Duty, love, that brought me."

Thrice happy I to testify Whate'er the wind and weather, 'Tis mine to prove that truest Love And Duty dwell together.

No more I roam, for here at home, My love and I, united, Blessing and blest, know perfect rest, And Duty is delighted.

And when at last our lives are past, And we become immortals; Through heaven's door we two shall soar When Duty opes the portals.

Had Natty Blyth known of Philip's morning call, he could not have been more wise in his choice of a song, and I have every reason to believe that Lucy had heard the rehearsal, for Nathan Blyth knew how to make his muse the channel alike of counsel and of cheer. Philip Fuller, however, as I have said, had no time or will this morning to listen to Blithe Natty's song. Love is royal, and the king's business requireth haste. Now I might stay to descant on the music of Philip's "tap, tap, tapping at the" blacksmith's door, for, depend upon it, there was a tremor of excitement in the hand that did it, and another tremor of excitement in the ear that heard it, that put it altogether beyond comparison with ordinary tappings, even the postman's knock, though probably the mystic tappings of a table-haunting spirit may have something of the same expectancy in it, but certainly not the same delight. Lucy Blyth was never above opening the door herself, either to visitor or shop-boy, but on this occasion she sent her little serving-maid to the door, as the damsel Rhoda was sent to answer Peter's knock; and so it came to pa.s.s that Philip was ushered into the little sitting-room to wait, and perhaps to whistle to keep his courage up, while our little bird flew upstairs to preen her feathers for a minute or two, and hush down the flutterings of her heart.

By-and-bye comes in Miss Lucy, and sure I am no fairer vision ever fell on mortal sight. The tell-tale blush that mantled on her cheek, did only lend a new and witching grace, and as Byron has it,--

"To his eye There was but one beloved face on earth And that was shining on him,"

and Byron is, of course, the apostle of love, though Moore perhaps successfully disputes his primacy. The Irish bard, with true Hibernian fire, sings,--

"Oh, there are looks and tones that dart An instant sunshine through the heart; As if the soul that minute caught Some treasure it through life had sought.

As if the very lips and eyes, Predestined to have all our sighs, And never be forgot again, Sparkled and spoke before us then!"

So Philip's eyes "sparkled and spoke" as he advanced to meet the idol of his heart, and as for Lucy, why, as dear old Dan Chaucer puts it,--

[Ill.u.s.tration: NATHAN AT DINNER.--_Page 265._]

"No lesse was she in secret heart affected, But that she masked it in modestie."

"Lucy!"

"Philip!"

His arms were open, her blushing face was buried on his shoulder, and at last, long last, the two loving hearts were one. I am very sorry that I am not able to enlarge upon this tender scene. The two words of conversation which I have here recorded, contain really the core and marrow of the whole interview. Doubtless, many of my readers understand it thoroughly, and the rest of them will do so, if they be good and patient. _Multum in parvo_ is very true in declarations of mutual love, and as I am in a quoting vein, I'll e'en quote from Tupper, so oft the b.u.t.t of "witlings with a maggot in their brain;"

his writings will at any rate bear favourable comparison with those of the sibilant geese who hiss at him. Quoth he,--

"Love! What a volume in a word! An ocean in a tear!

A seventh heaven in a glance! A whirlwind in a sigh!

The lightning in a touch!--A millenium in a moment!"

Well, the "millenium" had dawned on Philip and Lucy; they remained long in close and peculiarly interesting conversation, but the door was shut, and all I know about it is, that Nathan Blyth thought Lucy unconscionably late with dinner. All things, however, have an end, and at length Master Philip was ruthlessly expelled from Paradise, and betook himself to the blacksmith's shop. The gallant and n.o.ble knight of the anvil laid down his hammer to greet his visitor, but Philip was beforehand with him,--

"Nathan Blyth! Lucy has consented to be my wife."

"Philip Fuller, you've loved her long, you've wooed her honourably, you've won her heart, and in my soul, I believe you deserve her, and that's more than I could say of any other man on earth."

A warm and hearty hand-grasp sealed the covenant. Philip Fuller hasted to his ancestral Hall to gladden the heart of his father with the welcome news that Lucy Blyth was his affianced wife. So Lucy Blyth's filial love and duty were at length rewarded, and Philip Fuller's loyalty to G.o.d, his father, and his love, obtained their well-won prize.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

BLACK MORRIS "WANTS THAT BRICKBAT AGAIN."

"O I have often seen the tear From Pity's eye flow bright and clear, When Sympathy hath bid it stay, And tremble on its timid way; But there's a tear more pure and bright, And moulded with as soft a light,-- The tear that gushes from the eye, Fresh from the founts of memory."

_Anon._

The Rev. Theophilus Clayton and the earnest Methodist band of which he was the head, did not let the gra.s.s grow under their feet anent the scheme for the erection of the new chapel in Nestleton. After the securing of the land, a public meeting had been called, plans were presented, additional subscriptions promised, and finally a day was fixed upon for the all-important ceremony of laying the foundation stone. Philip Fuller, who was an active member of the Building Committee, being quite aware that his father would help to any amount that a free expenditure might require, succeeded in getting such a scheme adopted as would secure an elegant and attractive sanctuary, sufficiently s.p.a.cious for aggression, and so effective in its architecture as to be an ornament to the lovely village in which it was to be erected. Again the famous minister from York was secured.

Squire Fuller himself had promised to lay the stone, and every preparation was made for the grand occasion when the corner-stone should be laid, and the long-hoped-for undertaking should be inaugurated with enthusiasm and success.

A large and capacious tent was improvised by the aid of farmers'

stack-cloths, builders' scaffold-poles, and other materials, on Nestleton Green. Jabez Hepton and his apprentices were very busy in rigging up temporary tables and rude forms, a platform for the speakers, and other essentials for the great tea-meeting, and for the public gathering which was to follow. An enormous boiler had been borrowed from the Hall, urns and tea-pots, whose name was legion, were requisitioned from all and sundry, and all things were ready for the grand emprise. A glorious spring day, beautifully soft and balmy, was providentially accorded them. Banners and bunting, evergreens and flowers, adorned the scaffold-poles around the brick foundations which had been already laid, waved from the summit of the tent, and were lavishly scattered in its bright interior; while just before the canva.s.s doorway, John Morris and his brothers, with the help of Jake Olliver, had erected a triumphal arch, which was quite a marvellous triumph of village art.

The "trays" for the public tea had all been given and provided in that bounteous and luxurious fashion for which the Yorkshire farm mistresses are proverbial. Hams, tongues and fowls, tarts and pies, cheese-cakes, tea-cakes, plum-cakes, rice-cakes, and other toothsome triumphs of confectionery, mingled with a profusion of plainer fare, and exhibited such a sum total of appetising edibilities, that Jabez Hepton's tables curved and creaked beneath their weight. As for the people who gathered there on that auspicious day, it really seemed as though the whole Kesterton Circuit had immigrated to Nestleton Green.

Kesterton was represented by scores of sympathisers, and every village in Messrs. Clayton and Mitch.e.l.l's pastorate sent a detachment to swell the crowd. As for Nestleton itself, why it was there bodily. On that day, at any rate, the plough might stand in the furrow, and the horses experienced two Sundays in the week. The central ceremony pa.s.sed smoothly off: Squire Fuller did his unfamiliar duty in a deft and skilful way, and finished his short address of warm congratulation, by placing a hundred pounds upon the stone he had just "well and truly laid." Two or three speeches were delivered, the indispensable collection was made, the "Doxology" and "G.o.d save the King" were sung with a perfect furore of enthusiasm, and then a general adjournment was made to the "tented field." A battle royal succeeded; such an overwhelming charge was made upon urn and teapot, loaf and pastry, flesh and fowl, that in a very little while the boards were swept of their supplies, and the trampled ground was strewed with shattered fragments, the only surviving token of the fierceness of the fray. At the evening meeting the squire of Waverdale again took the place of honour, and delighted all his hearers with the simple relation of his religious experience, and his grateful references to the Methodist influences which had been brought to bear on himself and son. "As for good old Adam Olliver," quoth the squire, "he is one of Nature's n.o.blemen. No, that won't do either, for our grand old friend is in the highest sense a patriarch in holiness and grace. My debt to him is greater than he knows; greater than he will ever know until the light of eternity flashes on the doings of time. I desire in his name to contribute a further sum of fifty pounds, and I heartily pray that the chapel about to be built may be the means of perpetuating and multiplying such genuine specimens of piety, integrity, and goodness among the villagers of Nestleton."

Mr. Houston read a statement of a financial kind, which set forth a very hopeful state of things, and then the squire called on Philip Fuller to address the meeting. The young and handsome heir of the Waverdale estates received an unmistakable ovation which said much for his hold upon the general esteem, and promised much for his future influence over those among whom he would one day occupy so powerful a position for evil or for good. When Philip rose to his feet there was a certain young lady who felt a sudden flutter at her heart as to how he would acquit himself. He was quite as effective, however, in his work as she had been in hers, and that is saying much, for in the dreadful fight among the crockery and its contents, Lucy Blyth had handled her weapons like a heroine, as many a sated tea-bibber and m.u.f.fin-eater could testify.

"My dear father and Mr. Chairman," quoth Philip--and here the unconscionable tipplers of the not inebriating stimulus cheered again--"among the many causes of grat.i.tude and joy that fill my heart to-day, one of the very greatest is the joy of seeing you in that position. How good G.o.d has been to me you know full well. I stand here happy in the consciousness of a Saviour's love, as one raised by a miracle from the bed of death, rich in the possession of your sympathy and love, both intensified by the power of a common faith in Jesus, and as the prospective possessor of the fairest prize in Waverdale."

Here the applause was almost deafening; hats and handkerchiefs were waved in frantic excitement, and if any purblind idiot was ignorant of Lucy's hold upon the people's hearts, he was there and then enlightened fully and for evermore. "I, too, sir, must render my acknowledgments to Adam Olliver, my spiritual father, my trusted friend, my counsellor and guide. My heart is far too full for fitting speech. To honest, humble, hearty Methodist people, under G.o.d, I owe all that is worth having in this world; and I propose by G.o.d's help to live among them and to labour with them as long as He shall please to spare my life. I, too, sir, with your permission, would give 100 in token of my grat.i.tude to the Great Giver of all my good."

In the same high strain of grat.i.tude, speaker followed speaker, and the interest of the meeting was not only sustained but heightened. The minister from York gave a full, clear exposition of the distinctive doctrines of Methodism and the chief peculiarities of its discipline, to which, it was noted, the squire gave earnest, studious, and approving heed; Mr. Clayton talked wisely and well of Methodism's special mission to Nestleton, and sketched in glowing colours a prophetic history of the new chapel, and the good work that should there be done for G.o.d. Mr. Mitch.e.l.l found a thrilling and congenial theme in the Midden Harbour mission, and the triumphs of grace among its vicious and degraded inhabitants. Then the meeting was thrown open for the reception of gifts and promises, and it soon appeared as if, like Moses with the Israelites, Mr. Clayton would have to ask them to "stay their hand." Jabez Hepton would make and give the pulpit; Kasper Crabtree would build the wall around the chapel grounds and surmount it with iron palisades; George Cliffe the carrier, and other owners of horses would "lead" the bricks, lime, sand, stone, slates, and timber free of cost. Widow Appleton promised the proceeds of her jargonelle pear-tree, and Piggy Morris would give a litter of porkers to increase the swelling funds. At length, up rose Black Morris, but so widely different was his aspect as compared with the sad, bad times of old--clean shaven, and with shortened locks, the old scowl conspicuous by its absence, and the entire countenance so illuminated with the gleam of grace, that all present felt that Black Morris was as dead as Queen Anne, that the _soubriquet_ was a libel, and that the "John Morris" of his innocent youth-hood had risen from the dead. Latterly the ex-poacher had sought with much success to gather employment as a farrier, and there seemed to be a reasonable prospect of prosperity in that particular line. John Morris asked permission to address the meeting; in feeling strains that held his hearers spell-bound, he recounted his strange and startling experience. He told the story of the brickbat, and pointed, with tears in his eyes, to the scar on Mr.

Clayton's face; ofttimes half-choked with sobs, he struggled through the narrative of his never-to-be-forgotten ride in the circuit gig. He told how he watched Mr. Clayton at Kesterton town-end with the brickbat in his hand. "I said as I put it in my pocket," said he, "and turned down the Nestleton-road, 'Hey, I shall want it again.' And now I _do_ want it again. Here it is! (and he held the missile up before them), I want to give it to the new chapel. I've saved five pounds, and will save, by G.o.d's help fifteen more, which I rejoice to give in grat.i.tude to G.o.d; but I want to ask you to build the brickbat into the building, for it has been bathed many a time in tears of penitence, and I thank G.o.d, it has also been bathed in tears of joy." The scene which followed baffles description. Mr. Clayton hid his face in his hands and wept like a child, the sobs of Piggy Morris and his gentle Mary were heard above the deep but suppressed murmurs of sympathy which ran through the tearful crowd. By-and-bye, "Aud Adam Olliver"

arose and said,--

"Mr. Chairman! If ivver there was a man upo' t' 'arth 'at was a'most ower 'appy te live, it's me. Halleluia! Halleluia! Prayse the Lord!

an' let all the people say, Amen." And they _did_ say it, as if they meant it. Adam proceeded, "Neet an' day for mair then fotty year, ah've bin prayin' an' waitin' te see this day. An' noo its c.u.m, an'

c.u.m iv a shap' 'at fair tonns me' heead wi' joy. When me an' mah dear aud Judy com' here te-day, and ah saw this greeat big tent afoore uz, an' t' flags flappin' on t' top on it, ah could'nt help sayin', 'Judy, mi' la.s.s! There's t' tabernacle there alriddy, an' t' temple 'll be up and oppened afoare Can'lemas-day. Prayse the Lord!' We've had monny a blessed tahme i' mah lahtle hoose, an' Maister Houston's kitchen's been filled wi' t' glory o' the Lord. Beeath on 'em's been a Bochim wi' t' tears o' penitent sowls, an' thenk the Lord beeath on em's been a Bethel, wheer poor wanderin' sinners like Jacob hez fun' the Lord.

Ah've been thinkin' o' t' good aud sowls 'at's gone te heaven oot o'

mah lahtle cla.s.s, since fost it wer' started, playmaytes an'

c.u.mpanions o' mahne an' Judy's. Why scoores on 'em hez crossed ower Jordan, dry-shod, an' gone te be for ivver wi' the Lord. Me an' Judy's aboot all there's left o' t' real aud standers. We are like a coople o' poor, dry trimmlin' leeaves, still shackin' upo' t' tree i' winter; when wa' fall we sall fall as leet as they deea, an' t' wind 'at bloas us doon 'll bloa us up ageean an' carry us inte Paradise,--

'Te flourish in endurin' bloom Seeaf frae diseeases an' decline.'

Then there's that grand victh'ry 'at the Lord's gi'en us i' Midden Harbour. Scoores o' poor sowls 'at's been liggin' amang t' pots hez gotten 'wings o' silver an' feathers o' yallow gold.' Prayse the Lord!

An' noo, Mr. Chairman, let's remember what the Lord said te t'

Israelites when they camped bi' t' side o' Jordan, 'at owerfload its banks i' harvest-tahme. It seeamed as though they could nivver cross it, it was sae rough an' sae deep. He said, be' t' mooth ov 'is sarvan, Joshua, 'Sanctify ye'rsens, an' i' t' mornin' the Lord 'll work wunders fo' yo' l' an' sae He will for uz. Noo, Mr. Chairman, ah'll say nae mair, bud n.o.bbut propooase 'at John Morris's hoaf-brick be built i' t' frunt o' t' chapil, i' sitch a spot 'at 'is bairns an'

their bairns efter 'em may nivver forget hoo the Lord mak's t' wrath ov man te prayse Him, an' hoo He browt John Morris te t' Sayviour's feet."

The meeting was at length brought to a conclusion, and the people trod their homeward way, filled with precious experiences of a day which still lives in the memories of some who are yet spared by the sweeping scythe of Time, to tell the story of the glorious meeting on Nestleton Green, and the episode of Black Morris's singular contribution. In due time the front gable reared its graceful head, and midway in the wall was placed a slab of stone, with a square orifice cut in the middle, in which the brickbat was inserted, and round about it an inscription to the following effect:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: WESLEYAN METHODIST CHAPEL, BUILT 1835.]