CHAPTER IX
It was about the fifth night of the big holiness meeting at the arbor on Post Oak Ridge. The country was stirred for miles around. People from Dobbinsville and Ridgetown and neighboring villages were in regular attendance. Scores of people had been converted. Many had been sanctified. Numbers had been healed. The forces of sin were enraged. Wicked men, grim with age, had melted like frost at noonday under the mighty preaching of the Spirit-filled Evangelist. Old women with lying hearts and gossiping lips had been stricken down in mighty and pungent conviction for their sins. Young men, roguish and rough and stout-hearted, had come to the old split-log altar and on penitent knees had sobbed out before God the awful sins of their hearts and had gone away happy with the new-found treasure of full salvation. Young ladies, vain and haughty, had melted under the gospel messages and had come to the feet of Jesus. Sweet children not yet in their teens had wept their childish transgressions away and in their simple faith had accepted Jesus as their Savior. Oh, grand and glorious gospel! How matchless is its power.
Well, as I said, it was about the fifth night of the meeting. Preacher Bonds was there, and had been the two nights preceding. He had regarded all the manifestations of God's power in the meetings with affected indifference. He said he hated holiness and would hate it as long as he lived. On being asked what he thought of the miraculous conversions that had taken place in the meeting, he remarked that he would not believe in holiness even if Beelzebub himself were converted in the meetings.
Evangelist Blank said he thought this would be a splendid time to have a testimony-meeting. So they had one, and he conducted it himself. Grandma Gray was the first to testify. She stood trembling, and balanced herself against the back of the old willow rocker. Around her saintly face there seemed to circle a halo of glory. At first she only stood and wept. When she had gained control of her emotions sufficiently to speak, she said, "Oh, the love of God is unspeakable. How can I praise him for what he has done for me? He saves me and sanctifies me and heals me. I praise him for sending Evangelist Blank here. I would not say a word against the people of Mount Olivet church, but for thirty-some years I lived in that church an up-and-down life. God knows I wanted to live for him all that time but my experience was not sufficient to keep me. But since I have learned of the more perfect way, how my heart rejoices in this full salvation. Since this meeting began, the good Lord has been showing me great light on the church question. I see the one body of Christ, which is the church. I have just learned that I was born into the real, true church thirty-some years ago. O brethren, the day is dawning, the light is shining. How glad I am that I have lived to see this day."
When Grandma Gray had well-nigh exhausted her feeble strength in exhorting the people to come to Jesus and accept his truth, she sank into her big willow chair and silently prayed. For a brief period there was a deathlike stillness over the audience.
For years Grandma Gray had lived a life that could not be gainsaid. True, she spoke in her testimony about her up-and-down life, but when compared with the average professed Christian's life in that community, hers was above reproach. In her extreme age she spoke as one from the border-lands of eternity, and her words naturally had a profound effect.
Jake Benton was next to testify. He was simply overwhelmed with joy, and spoke at some length of his hope of someday being reunited with his darling girl in the skies. Jake's testimony scattered enthusiasm all through the congregation of the saints and there was rejoicing and praising God that was doubtless participated in by the angels around the throne.
Little flaxen-haired Eva Gray, eleven-year-old daughter of Nolan Gray, arose and said that Jesus had saved her and that she aimed to spend her life for him, as had Grandma Gray. Thus we see a godly life is fruitful of influence even on the lives of little children.
Probably the most remarkable testimony given was that of Squire Branson. Branson spoke thus: "Friends and brothers: I stand before you a redeemed man. I am washed and made white in the blood of Jesus. I am as a brand snatched from the burning. I am now in my eighty-third year. You know the manner of my life up until this meeting. I have had absolutely nothing to do with religion. As you know I have lived a life of great wickedness. I have been a drunkard, a gambler--a mighty sinner. For fifty-three years I had not gone near a church service until this meeting began. I have been thoroughly put out with the type of Christianity exhibited in this community these past years. But when through sheer curiosity I came into this arbor, I was made as conscious of the presence of the Holy Ghost as if I could have seen him with my natural eyes. There at that altar night before last I unburdened my heart of the sins of nearly eighty years, and I stand tonight a witness of the redeeming grace and love of Christ my Saviour. Oh, how can I praise him enough? Here I stand right at the threshold of death with a long and wasted life behind me and an eternity of bliss before me. What but the mercy of an infinite God could bring about this wonderful change?"
"Spooky" Crane said in his testimony that of all the churches he had ever belonged to this one was the best. Aunt Sally Perkins shouted.
Evangelist Blank was just ready to close the meeting when he was interrupted by Preacher Bonds. Bonds' face was red with rage and his eyes gleaming with anger when he burst forth in this unceremonious manner; "I thank God for a sensible and reasonable religion. I have been a Christian for thirty years and a minister for twenty years and I have never experienced any of this wonderful joy that these people speak of. This sanctified holiness doctrine is the most damnable doctrine that ever struck this country, or any other country. I knew a group of these holiness people back in Kentucky where I came from. They said they could not sin and that they were just as good as Jesus Christ himself. They were given to all sorts of fanatical projects. They claimed to have great faith and went so far as to say they were healed, as some of these people have said tonight. One of them even said that by faith he had caused an iron wedge to float on the water. Talk about living free from sin. There never could be a more crooked doctrine preached. The Bible plainly says, 'There is none good, no not one.' It also says that 'If a man liveth and saith he sinneth not, he is a liar and the truth is not in him.' I believe the Bible. When I was in college old Professor Thorndike used to give us an occasional lecture on the Hellish Heresy of Holiness. He knew all about the doctrine and the harm it is doing these days. I am bold to say right here that God has called me and raised me up to fight holiness, and I have dedicated my life to this cause. I aim to use every means, fair and foul, to stamp this doctrine out of this community (Deacon Gramps, "Amen."). I want to warn Preacher Blank and every one of his dupes right here that if he continues to preach in this community he does so at his own peril. You people have no right, legal or moral, to come here and disturb the peace and tranquility of Mount Olivet church, a church that has stood standpat for nearly half a century in defence of the truth. I here and now call upon every loyal member to come to the defence of the faith of your fathers. Those who will pledge their united support to the cause of stamping out holiness rise to your feet."
At this a score and a half of rustic mountaineers boldly stood up. "Let those who have made this solemn pledge meet me at the back door of the arbor," said Bonds as he sat down.
CHAPTER 10
During the time that Bonds was on the floor, Evangelist Blank leaned against the pulpit with his face in his hands as if in prayer. When Bonds sat down the Evangelist calmly faced the audience. Just at this time he seemed to possess the meekness of a lamb and the boldness of a lion. He seemed perfectly composed, as he remarked, "Well, brethren and friends, I am indeed sorry to see this splendid testimony meeting end in this way. I am sorry the ministerial brother feels as he does toward the truth we have preached, and I hope after prayer and reflection he will see his way clear not to hinder the progress of the meeting. However, if God sees fit to allow the hand of persecution to fall upon us, we bow submissively to his will. But we will not, we dare not compromise God's truth. We will preach the Bible regardless of consequences." With these remarks Evangelist Blank closed the service.
After the service was closed everything seemed to be as usual except for a few whisperings around in regard to what Preacher Bonds had said. As was usually the case at the close of such meetings, the saints gathered in little groups about the front end of the arbor and talked freely of their common faith and love. Mothers began to arouse sleepy-eyed children from their dreams and break to them the sad news that they were not at home in bed. Bushy-headed, bearded farmers and woodsmen began ramming their grimy hands into the hip pockets of their "blue drillin' overhauls," in which sequestered quarters were prone to hide their "long twist" and homemade cob pipes. After injecting an ample amount of "long twist" into the cob pipe's empty stomach and lighting a match thereto and sending a few initiatory puffs into the air, these mountaineers made off in the darkness toward their homes in different directions. Some went in groups, some by twos, some singly. Seen from a distance in the blackness of the night these companies resembled a regiment of glow-worms in a potato patch. From over the flint hills in the distance came the familiar rattle and rumble of old-fashioned lumber wagons whose occupants had come far to hear the much-discussed preacher from "over east." Now and then the night air was pierced by hideous yells and whistles from roguish boys dashing along on horseback, whose popularity depended on the amount of noise they made.
Is the offense of the cross ceased? Nay, verily; they that "live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." So say the Scriptures, and so thought Evangelist Blank as he lay down to rest that night after he had closed the testimony-meeting. Evangelist Blank slept in a tent, which had been pitched near the brush arbor. Several such tents had been pitched by Jake Benton and other neighbors, who, finding it ill convenient to go to and from the meeting each night, had decided to run it somewhat on the camp-meeting plan.
On the particular night of which we have been speaking, Evangelist Blank from some cause unknown to him was awakened shortly after midnight. Not being able to resume sleep, he thought to improve even the midnight time by musing on the goodness of God. As he lay thus gazing through the thin canvas of his tent at the moon, which was now a two hour's journey in the sky, he was startled by the sight of a man's shadow on the side of the tent. He lay still and listened. Soon he heard low muttering voices a few rods from his tent. Still he listened. They drew nearer and nearer. Finally the mutterings became whisperings. Still he listened, and prayed. They came nearer. Soon several shadows were cast on the canvas. He saw the winding shadow of a rope as it dangled from the arms of one of the men. Still he listened. Still they whispered.
"No difference about Benton, we want the preacher," he heard one say.
"Are you sure this is his tent?" whispered another.
"Yes, I saw him sitting in this tent's door reading this afternoon," whispered a third.
"We must get the rope on him and make away with him before the camp is aroused," someone said.
"What shall I do?" thought the pious man. "Does it mean that I must suffer death at the hands of this mob, simply because I have preached the truth? Will they hang me? Will they choke me? Will they stone me? Will they drag me over these awful rocks until life is dashed out? What meant the gleam in Bonds' eyes last night in the service? What will become of my dear wife and boy in Ohio? Will I recant? Will I deny my Lord? Will I shun to declare the whole counsel of God?" All these questions and many others flashed across the Evangelist's mind like angry streaks of lightning across a black cloud.
Through the thin canvas he saw in the moonlight half a dozen husky men seize hold of one end of a rope, the other end of which was arranged in a slip-loop.
"Now when I get the rope on him, make for the hills," said one man as he began to untie the strings that held the door of the tent. Just at this instant Evangelist Blank slipped under the edge of the tent on the opposite side from where the men were planning their diabolical feat, and under the edge of Jake Benton's tent, which stood just about two feet from his own. With a quickness of mind that was almost miraculous, he donned a dress and shawl and bonnet belonging to Sister Benton, and stole out of the tent and across the ground toward the arbor in full view of the enraged men as they came out of the tent that he had just vacated.
The men were as much astonished as enraged at not finding their prey. They ransacked Jake Benton's tent and demanded that he reveal the whereabouts of the preacher. Jake flatly refused. Except for his trembling, he stood like a stone wall and faced that score of masked men, thirsty for righteous blood. Really they appeared as so many thoroughbred devils right from the pit. They were masked in a way, not only to conceal their identity, but in a way to make them appear as hideous as possible. The leader of the mob shouted, "Jake Benton, you sanctified hypocrite, if you don't tell us where that preacher is we'll hang your carcass up for the crows to pick."
"Maybe you will, but I'll hang there, before I'll tell," shouted poor Jake in a trembling voice.
"Who was that ole lady left your tent and went across the ground a while ago with a bonnet on?" shouted one of the mob.
"I never saw an ole lady going across the ground," replied Jake. (In this he was telling the truth, you know.)
"Hang him up to a tree boys, hang him up, if he won't tell," shouted one of the gang. "Bring the rope," shouted another as he took hold of Benton's arms.
Just at this juncture the leader of the mob suggested to Jake that if he and his comrades would break up camp and leave the ground immediately, they would not hang him, but would continue their search for the Evangelist. To this Jake and the whole party of campers readily agreed. In the light of the moon, the whole ground of campers, consisting of more than a dozen families, hitched their teams to their wagons and made their way over the hills homeward. Before any wagon was allowed to leave the ground, it was carefully searched by the mob to ascertain whether or not Evangelist Blank were there. He could not be found.
When old Brother Bunk and his family arrived at their home, which was two miles from the campground. Sister Bunk and the Bunk children were afraid to go into the house until Brother Bunk should unharness the team and go with them. When the Bunk family came to the yard, they were astonished to see in the moonlight somebody sitting under the old silver poplar-tree. They were scared to say the least. Sister Bunk and the Bunk children hovered closer and closer to Brother Bunk, while fear increased as the distance to the poplar-tree decreased. Imagine their surprise and relief when the person under the tree shouted, "Praise God, Brother Bunk, many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth them out of them all." It was Evangelist Blank. He explained to them that he had walked the whole two miles from the camp through the woods, guided by the sound of the wagon, thus avoiding the possibility of being apprehended by the mob in case they should attack the wagon. He had arrived at the Bunk farm about the same time as the wagon had, but not having the inconvenience of a team to attend to, had sat down under the tree to rest.
The mob naturally supposed that Evangelist Blank would somehow make his way from the campground to Jake Benton's. Benton and his family arrived home from the camp about three o'clock in the morning. They had been there only half an hour when they were aroused by the shout of the mob, who demanded that the preacher should be yielded up to them. Not until they had thoroughly searched Benton's home would they believe Jake's contention that Evangelist Blank was not on the premises. Finally, when they were convinced that Benton could not or would not tell them where the preacher was they withdrew to a clump of woods a short distance from Benton's home and, the morning air being chilly, built a fire.
It was here that their identity became known. As they chatted around the fire they removed the masks from their faces. Of course, Jake Benton was curious to know who they were, and when he saw their fire in the woods he resolved to find out, even at the expense of much trembling. He thought he had recognized some of them by their voices when they talked to him at the camp, but now he determined to make sure. He crawled on his hands and knees for nearly a quarter of a mile along an old rail fence until he came within a distance of twenty rods from where the men were gathered, Indian fashion, around the fire. He was not at all surprised when he saw in the group the familiar face of Deacon Cramps and Reverend Bonds. And he observed from certain parts of their masks which they still had on that these two men were the fellows who took the leading part in the affair at the camp. Jake recognized that the group was made up mostly of men who were prominent members of Mount Olivet church. A few non-church-members and young men of the baser sort were also in the group. Benton watched them until nearly daybreak, when they disbanded and started for home. Jake lay quietly in his clump of buck-brush until he was sure that they were at a safe distance, then he crawled out and went home, informed much and scared more.
Shortly after sunrise, old Brother Bunk came over to tell Benton that Evangelist Blank was at his house safe, and happy in the Lord. This news greatly relieved Benton and his good wife, for they had not seen the Evangelist since he left their tent during the night, and they did not know just how he was faring. Evangelist Blank had suggested that it be announced that as this was Sunday there would be services held that day at Old Brother Bunk's. This idea pleased Benton, and he joined Brother Bunk in scattering the news among the saints. Accordingly at eleven o'clock the saints gathered at the Bunk home, where a blessed meeting was held. Great power and victory prevailed. The awful persecution had driven the saints to their knees in prayer. The very atmosphere round about seemed to be charged with the Holy Spirit's power. Evangelist Blank started to preach, but found it impossible. The saints shouted him down. A number of sinners who were present melted under the influence of the Holy Spirit and yielded their hearts to God. "Great grace was upon them all."
That night the meeting at the arbor was resumed, and it continued for two weeks with greater victory and power than before the molestation. The mob never bothered again, and the reason was this: A dozen or more men in the community who were sinners, and professed to be sinners, but who believed that men should be allowed to serve God according to the dictates of their own consciences, simply made it plain that the first fellows masked or unmasked who should disturb the meeting would be dealt with in a most uncomplimentary manner. The mob saw the situation in its true light and decided that for their own safety they would stay away.
When the meeting finally ran its natural course and came to a close, Evangelist Blank bade the band of saints a loving and tearful farewell and betook himself to other fields to suffer and rejoice in the great work with which God had entrusted him.
CHAPTER XI
Five years had flitted by since Jake Benton was converted down in the hills. The battle between holiness and sin-you-must religion had waxed hotter and hotter. Masked mobs had scoured the country at different times, threatening the very lives of enemies. The sin-you-must group had decreased in number, but had increased in wickedness. It could truthfully be said that every member of Mount Olivet church was at this time a positive force for evil. The membership had dwindled to one-fourth its former size. Somebody is responsible for the statement that the blackest deeds known to the world have been done in the name of religion, love, and liberty. Mount Olivet Church did her blackest deeds in the name of religion. She was determined to crush her adversaries, and she was not particular as to the means she used. Every member who had even the tiniest spark of God's love in his heart had either cast his lot with the holiness movement or given up his religious profession altogether. Preacher Bonds had grown more and more zealous in his fight against holiness.
Deacon Gramps had preached his doctrine everywhere, in his home as well as in the church, and he had already seen its fruits manifested right in his home. One of his sons who had now become of age had built a sort of philosophy of life on his father's teaching. He had reasoned something like this: "Since Father sins, and Mother sins, and the preacher sins, and everybody else sins, and nobody can keep from sinning, then it follows that one is not responsible for the sins he commits whether they be large or small, few or many. Then why not have a good time in this life? Why not go the full length into sinful pleasure?" And go the full length he did. He had become involved in one criminal scrape after another, and he would have landed in the penitentiary before this time had it not been for Deacon Cramps' financial backing. And by this time it had come to be common knowledge in the community that the son's profligacy was almost certain to involve the Deacon in financial ruin. It was a fact much discussed in inner business circles at Dobbinsville that Mr. Gramps' farm was heavily mortgaged, and that unless some crook or turn unforeseen favored him he would soon face bankruptcy. He had been unable to pay the interest on the notes he had been obliged to obtain in order to keep his son from going where he really belonged.
As for Jake Benton, during these five years since his conversion, his poverty had stuck closer to him than a brother; but thanks be to his persecutions, he had grown immensely rich in spiritual resources. He had become a mighty man in prayer. The sick were healed in answer to his prayer of simple faith. And it seemed only a natural thing for him to pray for his enemies. And as for love, Jake loved everybody and everybody had found it out. If anybody in the community wanted a favor done them, all that was necessary was to mistreat Benton and he would do them a favor. He had also developed into quite a preacher. Ever since the meeting closed in the brush arbor he regularly gathered the saints together on Sunday in the school house, and encouraged them in the things of the Lord. His life was simply exemplary, and even his bitterest enemies were compelled to acknowledge that God was with him.
One Sunday morning when Preacher Bonds stood before his meager audience, the familiar face of Deacon Gramps was absent. His unusual absence from the Church was very noticeable, and Preacher Bonds suggested in the introductory remarks of his sermon that unquestionably Brother Gramps was sick, and that it would be an act of brotherly kindness if when the service was over a number of the members would call at the Gramps' home and see the sick brother.
When Preacher Bonds had finished his sermon, a song had been sung, and the benediction had been invoked, a dozen or more of the members with Bonds in the lead started for the Gramps' home, which, as will be remembered, was plainly visible from the church.
"I believe," said Bonds, "that Brother Gramps' barn is on fire." At this the whole group began to rush toward the beautiful red barn that stood a quarter of a mile away. By the time they reached the spot, black clouds of smoke and angry flames were shooting from doors and cracks in the barn. Mrs. Gramps and the three children who were still at home were in the barnyard wringing their hands and crying in a heart-rending manner. It was plainly to be seen that the visitors could do nothing to save the barn, and all that remained to do was to stand and watch the flames devour the building.
"Where is Brother Gramps?" said Preacher Bonds to Mrs. Gramps.
"Wasn't he at church? No? Well, I don't know where he can be. He left the house just at church-time and I hadn't noticed but what he was in the crowd that came from the church," she replied.
Preacher Bonds looked serious as he said, "He could not have been in the barn, I suppose."
"Oh, certainly not. I suppose he must be at some of the neighbors', perhaps Deacon Brown's--was Deacon Brown at church?" "No, Deacon Brown was not at church," replied Bonds. "Possibly he remained at home and Brother Gramps went to see him on some business pertaining to the church. But I don't understand why they did not meet at the church to transact their business. Brother Jones, will you run over to Deacon Brown's and tell Brother Gramps about his awful accident?"
"Certainly," responded Jones, who stood near the barnyard gate talking with Gramps' hired hand, from whom he was endeavoring to learn the details as to how the fire started.
"Try to tell him," remarked Bonds, "in a way that will not be too much of a shock to him."
Jones mounted a horse and hurried off to Deacon Brown's and was soon back with the news that Gramps had not been seen at Brown's, and that Brown was sick in bed, which fact accounted for his being absent from the service that morning.
When it was learned that Gramps was not at Deacon Brown's, considerable anxiety began to be manifested on the part of neighbors. Some suggested that it was possible that Gramps could have been in the barn when it burned. Of course, care was exercised that such remarks should not reach the ears of Mrs. Gramps. Messages were sent to all the neighbors in search of Gramps. Someone had the idea that possibly he had gone to Dobbinsville or Ridgetown, but searchers sent to these places reported that he had not been seen at either place for several days. Preacher Bonds consoled Mrs. Gramps with the suggestion that doubtless he would show up before night. However, when night came with no signs of Deacon Gramps the whole community took an attitude of real alarm as to the likelihood that he had been burned to death. It was announced that there would be no meeting services at Mount Olivet Church, and Jake Benton dismissed his services and joined heartily in the search for the Deacon, who had dealt him so many grievous blows while Mrs. Benton did everything in her power to console Mrs. Gramps.
The search continued all through the night with no results. By early Monday morning there was general excitement for miles around. Scores of people came that morning from Dobbinsville and Ridgetown, and gazed on the mysterious scene of the former beautiful barn, now an ash heap. Officers came down from the county-seat and joined in the search for the lost Deacon. About the middle of the afternoon on Monday it was decided that the ash-heap should be searched for any evidence that the man had burned with the barn This search had not gone far when the county sheriff found in the ashes the steel back-springs and blades of a pocket-knife. Near by were found some pieces of enamel resembling a man's teeth. Next was found a small melted mass of something which seemed to have been a suspender buckle. Preacher Bonds picked up three pieces of silver which proved to have been so many silver dollars. Several pieces of bones were found, but these were so nearly charred to dust that it was impossible to determine whether they were bones of a man or bones of some of the many animals that perished with the building. However, all these articles mentioned were found within a very close proximity to each other, and in the minds of most people present there was now no doubt as to the fate of Deacon Gramps. On Monday night the coroner rendered a verdict that the Deacon met his death by being accidentally burned to death. Mrs. Gramps swooned away and had to have the attention of old Doctor Greenwich from Dobbinsville. In the event of the illness of Mrs. Gramps, it devolved upon Preacher Bonds to make full arrangements for the funeral, in which affair Jake Benton and his good wife showed every disposition to help where help was possible.
Preacher Bonds went to Dobbinsville and sent a telegram to each of the Deacon's five sons, two of whom lived in St. Louis, and three in Chicago. He also sent a telegram to a minister in St. Louis to come to preach the funeral, as, he said, he did not feel that he could officiate at the funeral of such a worthy brother as the departed. This St. Louis preacher had been a college chum of Preacher Bonds, and was full of the Mount Olivet persuasion.
Those were in the days before undertakers and other such modern conveniences had been introduced into that country. Jake Benton, good soul, went to Dobbinsville after the coffin and hauled it back in the same old lumber wagon he had hauled Evangelist Blank in five years before.
The funeral was arranged for Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock. A handful of ashes, together with the pocket-knife and other articles found in the ash-heap, was taken and wrapped in a napkin and placed in the big new coffin.
On Wednesday afternoon, when two o'clock arrived, the two front rooms of the Gramps farmhouse were crammed full of people. The yard was full, too. The St. Louis preacher began and spoke thus: "My friends and brethren, we have met on this sad occasion to pay our last respects to the honored dead. Within the narrow confines of this casket lie the earthly remains of a man whose spirit yet lives. It was not my happy privilege to know this excellent man, but I am informed by his pastor, Preacher Bonds here, of his manifold excellencies. When a great man dies, the people mourn. I am informed that our departed brother was a great man. First, he was a great man in business. When I behold this beautiful well-kept farm, I see its wide, extending fields, its running brooks, its whitewashed fences, its excellent buildings, in the burning of one of which our brother met his death--when I behold these things, I say, I am made to exclaim that God hath blessed him in basket and store. Yes, a great man in business.
"Secondly, he was a great man in his home, and by the way, there is where the true greatness of a man is tested. In the death of our esteemed brother the home is the loser. It loses a loving husband. It loses a considerate father and an efficient bread-winner.
"Thirdly, our brother was a great man in the community. I am told that he was a public-spirited man. He believed in schools, in good roads, and in all other things that make for the welfare of a community. In his death the community is a heavy loser.
"Fourthly, he was a great man in the church. (Preacher Bonds, "Amen".) I am told that for upwards of thirty years our brother has been a consistent member of Mount Olivet Church and a regular attendant at its service and a heavy contributor to its funds. I understand that he was a mighty defender of the church's faith. He fought bravely on. He stood like a rock. He weathered the storm. He finished the course. He conquered.
"But, my friends, our finite minds cannot fathom the profound mysteries of the infinite. We cannot understand. Why would a just God permit such a noble man to meet such a tragic death? It is not ours to reason why. We simply bow our hearts to the will of the divine."
"And now, to the bereaved I would say, Weep not as those who have no hope. (Mrs. Gramps weeps aloud.) Brother Gramps is just gone on before. He has crossed over Jordan, where he waits on the sunny banks of sweet deliverance. Just a few more days and we shall join him. He has gone where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary be at rest. Let us pray. Brother Bonds, lead us."
CHAPTER XII
Twelve moons had rolled by since the Gramps funeral. The blue-grass sod had already grown quite snugly over the year-old mound in the cemetery back of the white church on the hill. The rose-bush at the head of the mound had bloomed once and the June breeze had sprinkled its pink petals over the green carpet. A more or less expensive tombstone stood modestly at the head of the mound and silently announced to the passer-by what any tombstone is supposed to announce, namely that somebody sleeps beneath this mound. During the year many persons had stood with bared heads and read through tears this inscription: J.D. Gramps, Born April 21, 1856--Died June 13, 18--. "They rest from their labors; and their works do follow them."
The Gramps premises began to show signs of decay. The fences were in need of repair and the hillside portions of the farm had been washed in gullies by the spring freshets. A large ash-heap surrounded by jimsonweed and burdock marked the sight of the once beautiful red barn. The front-yard gate had been torn from its hinges, and it lay upon the ground.
It was well known that Widow Gramps had received ten thousand dollars from an insurance company in New York City, but what she had done with the amount was only a matter of opinion. Along about this time it became known in the community that the Widow had leased the farm and was planning to go to a Western State as she said, for the sake of her health, which had been declining since the day of the Deacon's funeral.
One day when Mrs. Gramps was in Dobbinsville making preparations for the trip West, she called at the People's State Bank and presented a check drawn on a Western bank and signed by James Duncan. When the cashier had cashed her check and she had left the bank, he turned to his assistant and said, "Jim, do you know what Deacon Gramps' name was?"
"J.D. Gramps," responded the assistant.
"I know J.D. were his initials," said the cashier, "but what does J.D. stand for?"
"Oh, I don't remember," answered the assistant. "I suppose we could find out by looking up some of his old papers that we still have in the vault."
"Look up that old mortgage that Gramps had on the Widow Smith's little farm," ordered the cashier.
A ponderous file was pulled from a shelf in the vault and the two men began to search the musty and dusty old documents of bygone days. At last they found the mortgage. There they found the Deacon's name written out in full--James Duncan Gramps. The cashier of the People's State Bank had a curious twinkle in his eye as he looked at his assistant. "Jim, do you know, I have a suspicious feeling about this here Gramps proposition," he remarked. The assistant looked astonished. He had supposed all this time that the cashier was interested in the Deacon's full name from some official standpoint. The cashier went on: "Widow Gramps was just in here a few minutes ago and cashed a check drawn by a man by the name of James Duncan. I have a suspicion that Deacon Gramps is still living and that this James Duncan is no other than James Duncan Gramps, and he is checking out of a Western bank money which Mrs. Gramps received from the insurance company in New York."
"Surely that could not be," responded the assistant. "Suppose we compare the handwriting on the check that you just cashed with the handwriting on these old papers." After a close comparison of the two specimens of handwriting, the men decided that their resemblance was not sufficient to prove anything.
"At any rate it will do no harm to investigate," remarked the cashier as he closed the heavy door of the vault. "I shall turn the evidence over to the insurance company in New York." That evening at sundown when train Number 29 pulled out from the station at Dobbinsville and sped eastward, it carried in its mailcoach a letter of much significance addressed to the president of a large insurance company in New York City.
The following week one day when the west-bound noon train stopped at Dobbinsville, a well-dressed stranger stepped from the platform of the coach and made inquiry as to the location of a hotel. A lanky-looking lad who leaned against a pole directed the stranger to the Dobbinsville Inn, across the street. A person of this man's evident rank and importance was not a familiar sight in the streets of Dobbinsville. His mysterious presence set a peaceful town all agog. He became the subject of much exaggerated conjecture. Every fellow was overly eager to tell precisely what he did not know; namely, where this stranger came from and what his business was. Uncle Hezekiah Evans, the sixty-year-old newsboy who peddled the Post around over the village, said this stranger was evidently a rich man from the East who had come to buy the whole town out. "Fatty" Jones, whose chief employment was that of sitting on a baggage truck at the depot, had the opinion that this stranger was the son of a St. Louis millionaire who, having much time and money, had come out to an up-to-date country to spend both. It was the candid opinion of old "Doc" Greenwich that this stranger had committed a crime somewhere and was lounging around in this secluded nook to evade the officers of the law. "Dad" Brunt, the honored proprietor of the Dobbinsville Inn, had an advantage over his fellows, as the stranger was staying with him. He was sure that this man was interested in timberlands in the Mount Olivet neighborhood, as he had known the man to make two trips out here during his stay at the Inn.
The stranger spent a week in Dobbinsville, during which time he made frequent calls at the People's State Bank. When he had gone, the cashier, to the great relief and surprise of his fellow townsmen, explained to them that he was an officer of the law whose business was to investigate the circumstances connected with the burning of Deacon Gramps' barn.
Just about one month from this time Uncle Hezekiah Evans did a flourishing business selling papers. The Post came out with this startling headline: "DEACON HEARS OWN FUNERAL PREACHED." Great excitement prevailed. Everybody in Dobbinsville who could read and some who could not bought a paper from Uncle Hezekiah. He sold all he had, and wished for more to sell. Not only were the people of Dobbinsville interested in this remarkable newspaper headline, but in every town and city that fell within the limits of the Post's rather metropolitan circulation, people were startled at the unusual thought of a man hearing his own funeral. The article in the Post read like this:
The little town of Dobbinsville, snugly tucked away in the peaceful folds of the far-famed Ozark hills, is coming into its share of publicity. There has lived for many years in the vicinity of this village a substantial farmer by the name of Gramps. Until a couple of days ago Gramps was supposed to have been dead and buried. In fact, a tombstone in the churchyard near the Gramps homestead plainly states that Gramps is dead. Though tombstones sometimes say, "They have gone to rest," the truth is otherwise and Gramps has turned up very much alive. According to an officer interviewed by a Post correspondent yesterday, Gramp's story is somewhat on this wise:
A little over a year ago it became known in the neighborhood of Dobbinsville that Gramps, who for years had been a well-to-do farmer and a diligent deacon in a local church, was becoming involved in financial embarrassment. In order to save himself from bankruptcy, the Deacon, according to his own confession, resorted to very unusual means. Gramps carried heavy life insurance. About thirteen months ago he burned his barn and feigned to have burned with it. While his neighbors were at the church one Sunday he went into his big barn and after depositing in a pasteboard box his false teeth, his watch, his pocket-knife, and some pieces of silver coin, he placed the box in the manger and lighted the hay in the mow with a match. After making sure that the fire was in good way, he jumped from a window in the barn and ran, without detection, to his house and hid himself in the attic. Neighbors, missing Gramps, made a diligent search for him which resulted only in finding the molten remains of the pocket knife and other articles in the ash-heap where the barn was burned. Amid much mourning loving hands gathered ashes from the tragical spot and tenderly laid them in an expensive casket. The next day at the funeral in the parlor of the Gramps home, a minister from St. Louis delivered an empassioned eulogy, extolling the manifold excellencies of the honored dead (?). Through an open stairway door Gramps heard the eloquent words of the clergyman and the heart-rending sobs of his own wife and children.
After seeing his funeral done up in proper style, Gramps went to Colorado, where for a year, going under an assumed name, he conducted a Sunday School and took active part in other religious enterprises. Through the cooperation of his wife, who remained on the homestead at Dobbinsville, he came into possession of $10,000 from an insurance company in New York City. At the end of a year he planned for his wife to join him in Colorado, where, according to his statement, they were to begin life anew. But their plans were upset when the Deacon sent his wife a check signed with his assumed name, which name consisted of the first two words of his real name. Gramps and his wife are both in jail, where they await the action of the court and where they have a splendid opportunity to meditate upon the interesting happenings of the past year. Whether or not Mrs. Gramps was an accomplice has not yet developed.
CHAPTER XIII
"Twenty years ago I came to this country. During these twenty years I have done my utmost to preserve and defend the faith of Mount Olivet church." The person who spoke was Preacher Bonds. The place where he spoke was in his own pulpit. The persons to whom he spoke were his twenty members, who were the fragments of the once thriving and powerful rural church. Bonds was at his best on this particular Sunday morning in April, and he had planned to give his hearers a sort of history of the events during his twenty-years pastorate at Mount Olivet.
The morning was a most beautiful one. All nature wore a smile. Only those who have experienced the rare joy of taking a stroll through the wooded dell in the famous Ozarks on a spring morning can fully appreciate the scene. Spring had made her long-delayed journey from the southland and by the strength of her warm and winning ways had forced grim old winter to a hasty retreat northward, and now exulted in her unchallenged sway. All the birds on this morning seemed to have come out to help her in her celebration. A red-bird, perched on the tip-top twig of the venerable oak which stood near the church, bathing his crimson feathers in the morning sun, warbled his sweetest notes to his mate in a hawthorn thicket across the field. Rollicking robins were vying with each other in their quest of worms in the meadow east of the church. A gray squirrel chattered in a hickory-tree near by and scattered particles of bark all around. A red-headed woodpecker sat in the round door of his cozy house in an old snag and seemed perfectly content in his utter inability to sing. Frolicsome spring lambs amused themselves by butting each other off a low stump down in the old Gramps cow pasture.
The Church itself showed signs of dilapidation. The belfry on the roof had been torn away and the old rusty bell, silent for many years, stood exposed to the ravages of summer and winter. Its only purpose now seemed to be to afford a shelter for the wasps which from year to year built their nests in its dome. The brick chimney, which projected from the roof near the rear of the building, had lost its crowning bricks and presented a very jagged aspect. For the accommodation of the squirrels who were accustomed to take up winter quarters in the attic of the church, the wood-peckers had pecked numerous holes in the paintless walls. The eaves were daubed with mud carried by the pewees in the building of their yearly nests. Bats, at their own good pleasure, came in and out through the paneless windowsashes and found daytime repose on top of the sagging beam which, just above the windows, spanned the room.
The physical condition of this Church house formed a fitting counterpart to the spiritual condition of the people who worshipped (?) there. Physical, spiritual, and moral spelled the trinity of its decay.
Preacher Bonds' sermon that morning ran something like this: "Twenty years ago I came to this country. Well do I remember the first few months after landing here. Some of the older members will recall the mighty religious fight that was just beginning in those days between the holiness heresy and the doctrines of the Bible as believed in by this church. Those few who are here this morning who have known me and have been my co-workers throughout these years, I am sure, testify to the steadfastness with which I have stood by the work. I said when I came here that God had sent me here to fight the doctrine of holiness. I still hold to my mission. I have stood four-square against that doctrine and all its advocates, and I still stand. I have used every means to put it down. But strange as it seems, this heresy appears to have grown fat upon our opposition, and the more we have fought the more it has flourished. Even at this very hour not a mile from here, in the schoolhouse, there is a group of people five times as large as this audience worshipping the Lord in what they call the "beauty of holiness." They have for a preacher, as you know, old man Benton, who twenty years ago was cast out of this church for teaching crooked doctrine. He has had no preparation whatever for ministerial work, but in some way he has been able to keep his bunch together for nearly twenty years; and now since he is an old man, it seems that they still persist in following him.
"In the early days of my pastorate here my strongest supporter and co-laborer was Deacon Gramps. This name will sound familiar to some of the older members. Gramps owned the beautiful farm just to the west of this Church. A good many years ago through some play, fair or foul, Gramps was charged with a criminal act and was convicted and sent to the penitentiary, where three years ago he died. His wife went to St. Louis to live with her son, and departed this life shortly after moving there. You are all more or less familiar with the Gramps story, so I shall leave it, as it is not at all a pleasant topic to discuss.
It may be of interest to some of you to know just how the doctrine of holiness ever got started in this community. Well, this old man Benton whom you all know as the leader of the holiness movement used to be a member of this church. For many years he lived a consistent Christian life in this church, so they tell me. About twenty years ago he spent a whole summer herding cattle down in the hills about thirty miles from here. While he was down there in the woods all alone with nothing to occupy his mind, he fell to musing on the death of his little girl who died a good many years previously to that time and it seems that he became mentally unbalanced, at least on religious matters. According to the information given me, he came in contact at this time with a religious paper teaching strange doctrines, and he embraced these doctrines and began advocating them with great zeal. As I said before, he was excommunicated from this church for teaching such doctrines, but in leaving the church he took a number of our most trusted and tried members, for instance, the Gray family. Those were the days of great excitement in this community. It was about this time that I was called to the pastorate of this church. A few months after my coming Benton and his bunch got an evangelist from over east, somewhere, to come here, and he made a mighty stir along heretical lines and many of the best citizens of our community were drawn into the delusive net. Some of us, in those days, stood firm in the faith and employed every thinkable means to stamp out the nefarious cult; and allow me to humbly say that had it not been for Deacon Gramps and me and a few other faithful ones, our cause at that time would have been completely lost.
"But I stand today, my brethren, as I have always stood--unalterably opposed to the program of the holiness movement. First, I oppose holiness itself--the doctrine that a man can live free from sin in this life. How foolish, how utterly ridiculous, the idea. We all sin. Our fathers sinned, we sin, and our posterity will sin. Do you see that streak of sunshine that comes in at the window and falls upon the floor? See in the sunlighted atmosphere a million dust particles. Let the air represent our lives and let the dust particles represent our sins, and you will have an idea as to how many sins we commit. Away with the holiness doctrine.
"Secondly, I stand opposed to the doctrine of divine healing as taught by Benton's outfit. The days of miracles are past. They ceased with the apostles. Jesus Christ has no more power to heal me of sickness today than has the horse which I rode to church this morning. In these days of great learning, when men are able to cure diseases by medicine and surgery, there is no need of divine healing, and every man who claims to be healed by divine power makes himself an ignoramus and a liar. Away with this doctrine.
"Thirdly, I stand opposed to the doctrine of oneness, or unity, as taught by Benton and his disciples. They lay great stress on this doctrine. They say there is but one church and that when a man is converted he becomes a member of this one church. Brethren, I do not believe this new doctrine. I still hold to the faith of our fathers. I believe that according to the Scriptures we become members of the church by water baptism and by no other method.
"Brethren, let us stand by the faith of those who have gone before. We may be few in number, but let us be unmoveable. Let us refresh our faith with thoughts of those whose lives have left sacred spots on the field of memory. Let us think on such men as Preacher Crookshank and Deacon Gramps, who were noted for their courage in defending the faith.
"As the noon hour is drawing near, I must bring my sermon to a close. Tonight at seven-thirty I shall preach on a favorite subject of mine--the Hellish Heresy of Holiness. But, in conclusion, let me say that I still feel heavily the burden of fighting old man Benton and his group. I am growing somewhat gray, but I'm still in the fight. I aim to push the battle. I believe that in defending his faith a man is justifiable in using almost any means imaginable. Let us pray: Lord, we thank thee for this hour in which we have defended thy cause. Lord, bless this church and curse those who seek its harm. Smite any person or persons in this community who seek to propagate false religion. And now may the grace of Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Ghost rest and abide with us now and forever, amen."
So closed a service a picture of which today still hangs on the walls of the memory of those present.
How hidden is the path of one's future. When Preacher Bonds mounted his sorrel horse at the church that noon-day, just as he had done for many, many years, little did he think that the same sun which afforded him a chance to illustrate in his morning sermon the multiplicity of his own sins would, before setting that day, shine upon his lifeless form.
It so happened that day that Preacher Bonds invited one of his brethren home with him to dinner. As he and this member, who was a pillar in the church, rode along the country road to Bonds' home, Bonds gave the member a full outline of his intended sermon on the Hellish Heresy of Holiness. When the two men had reached the barn of the Bonds' premises and had fed their horses they started for the house. They were just passing in at the yard gate when Preacher Bonds staggered and fell to the ground. He was carried into his house and placed on a cot, and a doctor was called; but within a half-hour from the time he fell at the gate his breath ceased and he began his eternity. The doctor pronounced his death due to heart trouble. There was no sermon at the church that night on the Hellish Heresy of Holiness. The following day Bonds' remains were started on the journey to Kentucky, where burial took place at the old boyhood home.
With the passing of Bonds the last candlestick was removed from Mount Olivet church. Bonds' sermon was the last one of the sin-you-must type preached there. The church was entirely disbanded and the dilapidated building finally fell into the hands of those who came after Jake Benton. In recent years the old church has been torn away and replaced by a beautiful white building surpassing even the former beauty of the old one. Over its door were written these words: The Church of God--the Pillar and Ground of the Truth. Over the pulpit this motto hangs: "Behold how good and how pleasant for brethren to dwell together in unity." To the left on the wall are these words: "Who forgiveth all our iniquities and healeth all our diseases."