Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1863-01-07
The Minister'S Sweethe art.
BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.

Young William RetswOrth arose IN the
pulpit of the quaint old church at Elmsdale
to deliver his first sermon, and cast his
soft blue 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, I'VE are waiting for
you" and the young minister understood
at last the ordeal which lay before him,
and stood there with beating heart and
a cheek that changed from red to white,
and from white 10 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 listen
ed to an criticised by men of letters and
women of the world, might have smiled
at the confusion elicited by the presence
of these old fashioned farmers and their
uneducated wives, and wonder how one
who, Judging by his face, had not only
talent but ambition, could have been
content to make even his first offort in
the presence of such an audience.
Talented the young man certainly was,
and ambitious also, though he scarcely
knew it vet himself; but the little village
vas his world, and the people in those
Brown old pews seemed, for the moment,
10 hold his fate in their hands. Again, as
he unfolded the white paper covered with
his delicate, distinct handwriting, his blue
eyes wandered about the church, and
read the faces upturned towards him.
There, grim and uncompromising, sat
Deacon Grumble, looking out for some
flaw in doctrine or some wandering SEN
tence which sayored of want of ZEAL
Yonder was Deacon Doleful, ready TO
shake his head in melancholy prediction
of his failure. Behind him, an old man
venerable, who had no faith in young
ministers" and fain would have an oc-
togenarian in every pulpit; and further
back, Square Grey, the abolitionist, side
with uncle Gobble, the pro-slavery 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 scapegrace broth
er, Jasper, the widest scion of that quiet
family, brown-skinned, gipsey-eyed, and
laughter-looling Bold in his speech and
careless in his mirth, he was a far better
Judge of the true merits of his sermon
from a worldly point OF view than any
other there. William dreaded this audit
or more than the rest-for had not bold
Jasper, in his hardihood, declared that
a minister, to be a proper teacher of his
iock, should be talented and enlightened
rs well as good and Jealous? And fur
thermore, to the intense horror of good
Deacon Doleful, that fine 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 stroYe to put these thoughts
away, and to think only of the great and
holy cause in which he had enlisted,
and of the One whose smile outweighs
that of the whole world. If he struggled
yainly, others older and wiser than he.
may have done the same, for Ambition
awiA not always set herself quietly beside
tie church porch, but oftcntimes will fol-
low her slave along the aisles, and up the
carpeted steps into the pulpit, as she
uliEnI laNc lOllONcA 10 ally SCCAlC vi
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 ORe-a holy One-about
whose pictured head the old painters
always drew a glory, who could forget
mans praise or blame, and struggled on
through scorn and persecution and temp
tation, cross and thorny crown his only
earthly tributes, without one blot or
blemish on his snowy soul, the spotless
gift of God returned to Him as spotless as
He gave it.
In his self-reproach, young William
BetswOrth made no such excuse for his
mental delinquencies, but thought him.
self at that moment the greatest sinner
upon earth.
The text was read, and the first words
of his sermon were upon the minister's
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-the smallest and the most
girlish-wore golden curls, which fell
below her waist. But it was upon the
other that William Betsworth's blue eyes
rested involuntarily, and it seemed to
the young man as though Satan was in
deed tempting him in earnest. If it were
wrong to think of the effect of his sermon,
how doubly wrong it was to 60 wandering
back TO his boyhood, and to see the little
pond, with water-ilies on its bosom, and
the garden, with its ranks of red roses,
and the school-house, where the girls sat
on one side and the boys on the other,
and to see, amidst all, pair of soft black
eyes and childish figure, and to feel
dimpled hand within his own, and to
hear baby voice say sobingly-'But !
will come back some day to be your little
wife" Oh very wrong; yet he could not
help it any more than he could help those
other thoughts, for there before him were
those soft black eyes, ohild's no longer,
and that childish form altered to a wo-
mans.
Il will come back some day and be
vour little wife ~ These words sounded
in his ear over and over again, and Love
climbed the pulpit stairs and stood there
beside Ambition. No one guessed all this
save the young minister 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 scEpegrace
Jasper grasped his brothers hand, as ne |
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