Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1895-04-05
HOW TOM KING WAS TRANSLATED
Tale of simple Faith.

Ernest Renan, Jne great FfenCn plllOS-
opher, once said that the good man heads
the procession of humanity, and that next
comes the scientist, and the third the
philosopher. This remark reminds me of
Tom King, the best man | ever knew.
Tom was an old negro who lived in my
native village. He had tasted the bitter
ness of slavery. There were scars on his
wrists and welts on his broad back. When
l first saw Tom he was in his prime,
man of magnificent proportions, Her
cules in stature and in strength He could
stand on the bottom of canal-boat moor
ed to the village pier and toss a barrel of
flour out upon the wharf. The muscles
under his black skin were then supple and
sinewy, his giantlike form was as erect as
the pine, and men turned to look as he
passed them in the street.
In his early manhood Tom was not
good man. One winter noted revivalist
came to the village and opened services in
the little Methodist church under the hill.
He compared the quiet little hamlet to
Sodom and Gomorrah, and Numbered his
denunciations in a manner which struck
terror to the hearts of his listeners. Toms
only surviving relative was his daughter
Dinah, who became greatly exercised over
the spiritual welfare of her father, and after
weeks of pleading persuaded him to 90 to
meeting. This proved to be the turning
point in Toms career. The horrors of the
fate awaiting the sinner in the future
world filled Tom with remOrse, and he re-
solved to go to the altar. 1t was only after
week of brooding that he made up his
mind to take this step. To make the
effort as easy as possible, he went to the
church early and secured a seat near to the
| altar-rail. Toms great heart was beating
like trip-hammer when the preacher in
vited the sinners to flee from the wrath to
come, and he was the first to PROSTATE
himself at the altar-rail, and to bend his
gigantic frame in an attitude of prayer.
His mind was in chaos. He felt as if
he wanted something, but he could not tell
what it was. For the following week he
was a miserable man. He began to examine
those great problems which have vexed the
human soul ever since the birth of Adam.
| His feeble reason attacked such problems
as free-will and foreordination. He went
to the preacher, but obtained no relief
Tom remained in this mental condition
for several weeks, when suddenly his mind
was relieved. A sense of rest and hap
piness filed his breast. The preacher
told him he was converted, and Tom believ-
ed him. He did not know what CONVEX
sion meant, but he told his daughter,
"Once | was dark inside like coal cellar
! but now Is got a candle in nah soul"
Tom shook off the vices which cling to
weaker men as a lion might shake autumn
| leaves from his name. 1t was the blossom
ing OF a human soul into an exquisite good
ness. Very simple, childlike, and beauti-
| full TOMS life became. He believed in the
Bible literally With the sensuous magma
ton of the negro, and the occult divination
of a mind which dwet continually on high
| planes of thought, he even aspired to trans
late the mysteries of the book of Reve-
lation. Tom never troubled himself about
current events, but after supper he would
open the well-wOrn Bible and pore over
the wonderful book with constant delight.
And as years went by his spiritual hori-
zon widened, and all malice and unchari-
tableness departed from him, leaving a
! gracious kindliness and sweetness which
! irradiated his rugged features. The por-
ton of the Bible which fascinated Tom
more than any other was the story of the
translation of the prophet Elijah. In
these iconoclastic days, when the hammers
of materialism have been coming down
with crushing force, there are many who
laugh at the story of the fiery chariot and
/ LllulllS llulS uul uOluJ Vi llS lIulu never
crept into the roomy chambers of Toms
faith. His Oriental fancy saw the chariot
descend and rise again with its living
| freight. With beattic vision Tom would
close the holy book after reading the story
over again, look up with eyes of faith
through the ceiling until the meteoric
vehicle was swallowed by the sky; then
clasping his callous hands in religious
ecstasy he would sing:
"Whar, oh, whar is de good Elijah
Mhar, oh, whar is de good Elijah,
Who went mp in de chariot o'iah
safe, now, in de promised Ian"
By process of reasoning peculiarly his
own the idea took possession of TOMS
mind that "when the summons came to
join the innumerable caravan he would
be translated just as the prophet had been.
This was not egotism on his part, it was
simply an outgrowth of his faith He
read the words of the Christ about faith
like the mustard seed, and its application
to the removal of a mountain, and he had
applied this literally regarding the fiery
chariot. Then old age, with it concomi-
| lance of partial blindness and rheumatism,
came upon him. His once stalwart form
was bent, and his great arms began to
wither like the limbs of tree smitten by
llSntulllS' DuJ MS ldlIll, Clarified DA years
of selfcommuniOn and humility, support
ed him in his adversely. The little GASES
of refreshing in the desert of his physical
WEAKNESS Tom found at the weekly PRAYER
meeting He always sat in a high-backed
wooden pew near the door, remembering
sadly that he was of an alien and contemn-
ed race. One hot August evening, when
the brethren and sisters were paying more
attention to the moths futtering around
the gas jets than to the iteration of time
worn supplication and eXhortation, the
preacher awoke from half-doze, and
without rising from his seat, said:
There still remain few minutes before
the close of the meeting. If any one wishes
to say few words or to lead in prayer he
now has the chance"
From far away on the drOwsy evening
air came the notes of whippoorwill. Then
the silence was broken by laundering
June-bug, which flew into Sister Jones's |
ear, provoking a shrek and smoker. |
Then silence again. The preacher was
about to close the meeting, when old Tom |
King pulled himself, by the help of the