"Please,Miss Frost,the sewing society is going to meet at our house this afternoon,and mother wants you to come round after school,and stay to supper."The speaker was Annie Peabody,daughter of Deacon Uriah Peabody,a man who lived in a groove,and judged all men according to his own experience of life,which was very limited.He was an austere,old fashioned Calvinist,who believed that at least nineteen twentieths of his fellow men were elected to perdition.Mr.
Wilson's theology was not stern enough to suit him.He characterized the minister's sermons as milk and water.
"What we want,parson,is strong meat,"he more than once remarked to the minister."You're always exhortin'men to do right.I don't take much stock in that kind of talk.""What shall I preach then,Deacon Peabody?"asked the minister mildly.
"If I were a minister I'd stir up the sinners,"said the deacon emphatically.
"How would you do it?"
"I'd describe the lake of fire,and the torments of the damned,an'let 'em understand what is prepared for 'em if they don't fear God and do his commandments."The minister shuddered a little.He was a man of sensitive organization,upon whom these gloomy suggestions jarred unpleasantly."I can't paint such lurid pictures,deacon,"he answered;"nor do I feel that they would do any good.I don't want to paint our Maker as a cruel tyrant,but as a merciful and considerate Father.""I'm afeared,parson,that you ain't sound in the doctrines.or know what the Scriptures say,`Vengeance is mine;I will repay,saith the Lord.'""We also read,`Like as a father pitieth his children,so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.'""But suppose they don't fear him,"said the deacon triumphantly.
"I believe in the punishment of sin,"returned Mr.Wilson."We cannot err without incurring the penalty,but I believe God,in punishing the sinner,does not cease to love him.`Whom he loveth he chasteneth:'or,as we have a right to say,he loves those that he chastens.""I don't know about that,"said the deacon."I think that's twistin' Scripture to our own ends.How many do you think are goin'to be saved,Parson Wilson?""I cannot hazard a conjecture,deacon.Heaven forbid that I should seek to limit the goodness and mercy of God.""Do you think a quarter will be saved?"persisted the deacon.
"Of course I don't mean the heathen.There ain't no hope for any of them,unless they've been converted by the missionaries.I mean of them that's brought up under Christian institutions.""A quarter?Most certainly.If I felt that three quarters of the race were destined to be lost,my soul would be weighed down with grief.""Well,for my part,"said the deacon,"I've no idea that as many as a quarter will be saved.About one in twenty is full as high as I calc'late on.""Good Heavens!Deacon Peabody,you can't be in earnest.""Yes,I be.Why,Parson Wilson,look at the people as they are,"(the deacon pronounced it air)--"ain't they steeped in folly and vice?Ain't they carnally minded?Ain't they livin'for this world without no thought of the other?Air they fit for the mansions of the blest?Tell me that."The deacon's voice rose in a sort of crescendo,and he put the last question triumphantly.
"We are none of us fit for Heaven,"replied the minister,"but we can rely on God's mercy.Your doctrine is simply horrible.If but one in twenty is to be,saved,don't you feel anxious about your own soul?""Of course I'm a poor,miserable sinner,"said the deacon complacently;"but I'm a professin'Christian,and I have faith in Christ.
I think I come within the promises."
"Suppose you were sure of your own salvation,doesn't the thought of the millions who are to perish ever give you anguish?""Of course I'm sorry for the poor,deluded sinners,"said the deacon,who managed nevertheless to maintain a cheerful exterior;"but the peace of God remains in my soul,and I don't allow the folly of others to disturb me."The minister shook his head.
"If I believed as you do,deacon,"he said,"I could not close my eyes at night.I could not rejoice in the bright sunshine and glorious beauty of outward nature.I should put on sackcloth and ashes,and pour out my soul to God in earnest prayer that he would turn his soul from wrath.""I don't feel like interferin'with God's arrangements.I've no doubt they're for the best.""You think it best that all heathen and nineteen twentieths of those that live in Christian countries should be damned?"asked the minister with some vehemence.
"If it's the Lord's will,"said Deacon Peabody,in a sanctified tone,"I'm resigned to it."Deacon Peabody should have lived at least fifty years earlier.He found few of his contemporaries to agree with him in his rigid notions.Most of the parish sympathized rather with the milder theology of Mr.Wilson.Had it been otherwise,had the deacon thought it possible to obtain a preacher in harmony with his own stern views,he would have headed a movement to get rid of the minister.As it was,he contented himself with protesting,in public and private,against what he regarded as pernicious and blinding error.
This has been a long digression,but the deacon was a prominent man in Granville,and interesting as the representative of a class numerous in Puritan days.
When Mabel entered the deacon's parlor,after school was over,she found some dozen ladies congregated,including the most prominent matrons of Granville.There were but two other young ladies besides Miss Frost.One of them was Miss Clarissa Bassett,the other a grown up daughter of the deacon --Miss Charity Peabody,who was noted for a lack of that virtue which had been given her as a designation.Mrs.Peabody,in strange contrast to her husband,had a heart overflowing with kindness.and was disposed to look on the best side of everybody.
