The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1892-10-20
PARSON PLADLEY.

ment stood silent rs so many tombs among
the black stumps of the half cleared fields,
for every soul in the place, from the old
man of ninety to the youngest child. was
in tho meeting house OH the hll-every
soul, that is, except Abncr True.
Abner True, whose father was deacon
and tithing man and counted second only
to the minister himself in rigid piety, was
actually playing truant from meeting, and
this in n village which looked upon Plym-
outh and Weymouth as dangerously world
ly towns, relaxed in morals and manners
by overmuch prosperity.
But Abner had worked from sun to sun
every day of the last week, and knew he
must do the same every day of the next
week and the week after that, for the corn
was to be hoed, the grass crops got in and
n score of other tasks to be done.
1t seemed To him too hard that on this
one day of rest lie should be obliged TO sit
upon = baclless plank bench all the fore
noon, il indeed he did not find himself
forced to sit there longer since Parson
Pladley, who rarely preached less than
three hours, sometimes preached four and
once or twice had been known to exceed
five hours.
Abner felt sure that the sermon would
not be n short one this day, even according
TO the preachers idea of brcvity and the
more lie thought of it the more he dreaded
it until he became willing to incur any
punishment for the sake of escaping that
discourse.
So when Deacon Amos, with his wife
and younger children were ready for meet
ing no Abner could he found. Hidden in
the little haymow of the rough barn he
saw the family dcpart-his father march
ing ahead, equipped with muskct, bando-
iecr and powder horn, for King Philip and
his lndiuns were at war against the whites,
and no man throughout the colony went to
field or church without his arms.
Similar groups, similarly accoutcrcd,
paced solemnly along toward the rude
sanctuary upon the hill until Abner, see
ing that all Hudderstield had passed, felt
that he was safe-for the prcsent-anl lay
down upon the soft hay to prepare for the
sound nap he had so longed for.
Below old Fly, the farm horse, stamped
and niupched; without the hens crowed in
the sunshine with n drowsy note that
should have been favorable enough for
slumber. But between his guilty con-
seriousness of what he had done and his
dread of what Deacon Amos would do
Abner could not manage to go to sleep
He began to wish himself upon that
backless plank bench, even if the sermon
were to last all day; yet tarly arrival
would be nearly rs great an offense as not
to come ut all, and he had not the courage
to meet the public reproof which Parson
Pladley might administer, or to hasten the
private chastisement that Deacon Amos
would surely inf1ict.
The time went on. The old house was
still now; the hens uttered only an &C.
casional croak. From the far distance the
preachers voice came down on the warm
breeze in softened murmur Abner was
doing.
What was that' He heard II sound that
Weakened him quite, and he sprang up to
listen.
Nothing but slight swishing sound in
the tall grass behind the barn-nothiny
but that. IT. was probably some fox or
polecnt on the watch to snatch a chicken
Abner peered out through crack to see
if he could discover the animal, for the
swshing sound seemed drawing nearer
In the meeting house Parson Pladley
had turned his big hJ.rglass twice, and
now the sands of the third hour were al
most spent. Before him rows of serious
men, women and children looked up in rev.
erent attention, not once removing their
earnest eyes from the minister
The heavy door was flung open and shut
again with Il loud bang that startled every
member of the congregation a boy,
staggering and streaming with perspi-
ration, ran up the broad aisle and fell ex-
hausted ut the foot of the pulpit.
Every man stretched out his hand to the
musket that stood beside him; but no one
rose, no one said word or uttered an ok.
clamation.
Whatever the danger was and they
knew we'll what it might be--this was
Gods house, and in it none but Gods serv-
ant should raise voice or venture upon
any cctiOn unless lie permitted
The minister descended from his place.
leaned over the painting A bncr and caupht
the few words the boy had strength to
whisper, "Savages-full iivescore-stcaling
up-to take us unawarc"
The minister returned to the pulpit
"kindle your matches, brethren" said
he III voice Of perfect tranquility
The ring of flint and steel sounded all
over the house.
Make ready your guns" continued the
minister, taking up Il heavy musket and
blowing the match or fuse by which it was
discharged. "Musketeers, to your stations.
Ye that have but swords or pixies, be fast"
The congregation Obeyed these orders In
calmly as they had been given. Twenty
five men, headed by Deacon True, silently
ranged themselves ut the loopholos which
which were pierced in the door and along
the walls. Each knew his position and
took 1t without delay or hesitation, while
the fifteen men who had no firearms sat
stifly on the benches with the women and
children, most of whom had not looked
behind them since Abner rushed ia.
Parson Pladley looked at the hourglass,
which still continued to run, and quietly
resumed his sermon. Around the sides of
the room the musketeers stopped at the
foopholes amid the light vapor from their
smolderiHg matches.
On the benches the body of listeners kept
their composed Countenances turned uDon