Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1862-08-29
THE MINISTER'S SWEETHEART.
BY NARY KYLE DALLAS.

deliver his first sermon, and cast his soft blne
eyes along the aisles and up to the gallery.
where the organ stood and where the choir
sat. Now that the hymn was over, and the
last low murmur OF the organ had melted into
silence-now that all those faces were turned
towards him, and the hush seemed to say,
more plainly than words could, "We are
waiting for yeu," the young minister under
stood at last the ordeal which lay before him,
and stcsd there with . beating heart and
cheek that changed from red to white, and
from white to red again, with every breath
One accustomed to the sight Of crowded
houses, and to the knowledge that the words
which fell from his lips were listened to and
criticised by men of letters and women of the
world, might have smiled at the confusion eli
cited by the presence of those old-fashioned
farmers and their uneducated wives, and
wonder how one who, judging by his face, had
not only talent but mbition; could have been
content to make even his first effort in the
presence of such an audience.
Talented the young man certainly was and
ambitious also, though he scarcely knew it yet
himself; but the little village was his world,
and the people in those brown old pews seem
ed, for the moment, to hold his fate in their
hands. Again, as he unfOlded tho white paper
covered with his delicate, distinct handwrt-
ing, his blue eyes wandered about the church,
and read the faces upturned towards him.
There, grim and uncompromising, sat Deacon
lOOklDR out lot some nav IN uOctrln0
or some wandering sentence which sa7ored of
want Of zeal. Yonder was Deacon Doleful,
ready to shake his head in melancholy predic
tion of his failure. Behind him. an old man
venerable, who had no faith in ''young minis
ters," and would fain have had an octogenari-
an in every pulpit; and further back, Squire
Grey, the abolitionist, side by side with uncle
Gobble, the pro-savery man of the village, at
whom he was looking bowie-knives. These,
and host Of other malcontents, were to be
propitiated; and there also were his old father
and mother, fond and anxious as parents
could be, and, sitting beside them. his scape-
grace brother, Jasper, the widest scion of
that quiet family, brOwn-skinned, gipsey-
eyed, and lsughter-loving. Bold in his speech
and careless in his mirth, he was far better
judge OF the true merits of his sermon from 8
worldly point of view than any other thore
William dreaded this auditor more than all
the rest-for had not bold Jasper, in his hardi-
hood, declared that minister, to be proper
teacher OF his flock, should be talented and
enlightened as we'll as good and Jealous
And further more, to the intense horror of
good Deacon Doleful, that "fne reading
should not be confined to the stage, but should
be admitted to the pulpit" Jasper-what
would Jasper think of his maiden sermon!
The paper was unfolded and spread upon
the desk before him, and the young minister
strove to put these thoughts away, and to
which he had enlisted, and of the One whose
smile outveighs that of the whole world If
he struggled vainly, others older and wiser
than be may have done the same, for Ambi.
ton will not always seat herself quietly beside
the church porch, but oftentimes will follow
nsr slave along the a1sles, and up the carpet
ed steps into the very pulpit, a, che might
have followed him to any scene of public
strife or triumph, teaching him that ministers
are but men, and that of all the preachers on
this earth Of ours there was but Ons-a holy
One-about whose pictured head the old
painters always drew glory, who could for
get mans praise or blame, and struggled on
through scorn and persecution and temp
tion, the cross and thorny crown his only
earthly tributes, without one blot or blemish
on MIA snowy soul, the spotless gift Of God re
turned to Him as spotless as Hs gave It,
La his self-reproach, young William Bets
worth made no such excuse for his mental de-
linqusncies, but thought himself at that mo.
ment the greatest sinner upon earth.
The text was read, and the first words Of
. his sermon were upon the minister lips, when
the church door opened once more to admit
two ladies, who came softly up the aisle, and
seated themselves very near the pulpit. Both
were young, and one-ths smallest and the
most girlish-wore golden curls, which fell be-
low her waist But 1t was upon tho other that
William Betsworth's blue eyes rested involun.
tarily, and it seemed to the young man as
though Satan was indeed tempting him in
earnest. If 1t were wrong to think of the ef.
feet Of bis sermon, how douby wrong it was to
90 wandering back to his boyhood, and to see
the little pond, with water-lilies on its bosom,
and the garden, with its ranks of red roses
and the school house, where tho girls sat on
enc side and the boys on the other, and to see,
amidst all, pair Of soft black eyes and a
childish figure, and to feel dimpled hand
within his own, and to hear baby voice say,
sobbingly-"But will come back some day
to be your little wife," Oh very wrong
yet ne could not help it any more than he
could help those other thoughts, for there be-
fore him were those soft black eyes q child's
no longer, and that childish form altered to q
woman's.
81 will come back some day and be your
little wife =! These words sounded in his ears
over and over again, and Love climbed the
pulpit stairs and stood there beside Ambition.
No one guessed all this save the young minis.
ter himself, and, when the sermon was done
Deacon Grumble nodded approval to Deacon
Doleful, and his mothers eyes were full of
tears, called forth by her innocent pride in
her blue-eyed William, and scrapegrace Jas
per grasped his broth er's hand, as he descend.
ed from the pulpit in earnest congratulation.
Only the object of all this interest was dissat.
lsfed, as he thought, with selfreproach, upon
the earth-flled dreams which had so haunted
him. Yet that memory of his child-loye
would not be driven from his heart, and, when
arrived at home, he found those two beautiful
girls standing together upon the parsonage
porch, it grew still moro vivid.
They had come back to live," she said,
"and were not going back again, and. late as
they arrived On the past night, she had re-
solved to come to church as soon as the heard
that William was to preach. How strange
that he should be grown man and minister.
1t seemed but yesterday that they were child
rem, and he wore round blue jacket, and
fshed for minnows with a crooked pin. Yet
she knew him. And he-was it possible that
he would have remembered herr" So she
ran on, and her goldsn-baIred sister, Efie,
smiled beside her like happy child. In a
little while she left them, and when she was
quite out of sight, William Bstsworth went
back into the house, and thought how strange
1t was that all those years of travel in .
foreign land had altered his playmate 80 little,
and into what beautiful blossom the tender
bud of that spring time had expanded.
He preaehed that night again, and streve, if
did stPiga tn he ~ nd