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Four Girls at Chautauqua

<h2 id="id01087" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> <h5 id="id01088">SWORD THRUSTS.</h5> By the next morning it became clear to our girls that a change of programme was a necessity. Ruth had by no means recovered from her shock and the sleepless night that followed, and some of the comforts of invalidism must be found for her. At the same time she utterly repudiated the idea of Saratoga, which was now urged upon her; it had lost its charms; neither would she go home. "I have decided to stay until the very last meeting," she said, with quiet determination. Flossy laughed softly; she knew what charms Chautauqua had taken on, but the others supposed it to be a whim, resulting from the ridicule she had suffered because of the Saratoga scheme. After many plans were discussed it was finally decided that Flossy and Ruth should seek quarters at the hotel in Mayville, Ruth coming over to the meetings only when her strength and her fancy dictated, and having some of the luxuries of home about her. It seemed to fall naturally to Flossy's lot to accompany her; indeed, a barrier was in the way of either of the others being chosen. The hotel arrangement, when one took into consideration the numerous boat-rides to and from the ground, was by no means an economical proceeding, and as Flossy and Ruth were the only ones who were entirely indifferent to the demands of their purses, it must of necessity be them. Neither of them was disposed to demur; there had never been much congeniality between these two, but they had been friendly, and now there was a subtle bond of sympathy which made them long to be together. So, during the next morning hours, those two were engaged in packing their effects and preparing for a flitting to the Mayville House. Meantime Marion and Eurie, having stood around and looked on until they were tired, departed in search of something to interest them. "It is too early for meeting," Marion said. "There is nothing of interest until 11 o'clock. I'm sorry we missed Mrs. Clark. I like to look at her and listen to her; she is just bubbling over with enthusiasm. One can see that she thinks she means it. If I were a Sunday-school teacher I should be glad I was here, to hear her. I think it has been about the most helpful thing I have heard thus far; helpful to those who indulge in that sort of work, I mean." "I wonder what those normal classes are like?" Eurie said, studying her programme. "We haven't been to one of those, have we? What do you suppose they do?" Marion shrugged her shoulders. "They are like work," she said. "'Working hours,' they are named; and I suppose some hard thinking is done. If I didn't have to teach school six hours out of every day at home I might be tempted to go in and listen to them; but I came here to play, you see, and to make money; they are not good to report about. People who stay at home and read the reported letters don't want to hear anything about the actual work; they want to know who the speaker was and how he looked, and whether his gestures were graceful, and—if it is a lady—above all, how she was dressed; if they say anything remarkably sarcastic or irresistibly funny you may venture to report it, but not otherwise, consequently reporting is easy work, if you have not too much conscience, because what you didn't see you can make up." At the end of this harangue she paused suddenly before a tent, whence came the sound of a firm and distinct voice. "What is this?" she said, and then she lifted a bit of the canvas and peeped in. "I'm going in here, after all," she said, withdrawing her head and explaining. "This is a normal class, I guess. That man from Philadelphia—what is his name? Tyler? Yes, that is it—J. Bennet Tyler—is leading. I like him; I like his voice ever so much; he makes you hear, whether you want to or not. Then, someway, you get a kind of a notion that he not only believes what he says but that he knows it is so, and that is all there is about it. I like to meet such people now and then, because they are so rare. Generally people act as though you could coax them out of their notions in about twenty minutes if you tried—when they are talking about religious subjects, I mean. Obstinacy is not so rare a trait where other matters are concerned. Let's go in." "What is the subject this morning?" Eurie asked, following her guide around to the entrance, somewhat reluctantly. She was in no mood for shutting herself inside a tent, and being obliged to listen whether she wanted to or not. But Marion was in one of her positive moods this morning, and must either be followed or deserted altogether. Mr. Tyler was reading from a slip of paper as they entered. This was the sentence he read: "Difficulties in interpretation which arise from certain mental peculiarities of the student. Some minds, and not by any means the strongest or noblest, must always see the reason for everything." Marion gave Eurie a sagacious nod of the head. "Don't you see?" she said. "Now, by the peculiar way in which he read that, he made believe it was me he meant. And, by the way, I'm not sure but he is correct. I must say that I like a reason for things. But what right has he to say that that is an indication of a weak mind?" "He didn't say so," whispered Eurie. "Oh, yes he did; it amounted to that. There is where his peculiar use of words comes in. That man has studied words until he handles them as if they were foot-balls, and were to go exactly where he sent them." "He is looking this way. The next thing you know he will throw some at us for whispering." This was Ernie's attempt to quiet Marion's tongue. That or some other influence had the desired effect. She whispered no more, and it was apparent in a very few minutes that she had become intensely interested in the theme and in the way it was being handled. An eager examination of the programme disclosed what she began to suspect, that the subject was, "Difficulties in the Bible." Her intellectual knowledge of the Bible was considerable; and having read it ever since she could remember, with the express purpose of finding difficulties, it was not surprising that she had found them. Something, either in the leader's manner of drawing out answers, or the peculiar emphasis with which he contrived to invest certain words, had the effect to cause Marion to feel as though she had been very superficial in her reasoning and childish in her objections. She grew eager; her brain, accustomed to work rapidly and follow trains of thought closely, enjoyed the keen play of thought that was being drawn forth. But there was more than that; almost unconsciously to herself this subject was assuming vital proportions to her; she did not even herself realize the intensity of the cry in her heart, "If I only knew whether these were so!" Presently the voice which had once before struck her as being so peculiar in its personality sounded distinctly down the long tent. "Remember the conditions under which the Bible promise clear apprehension of the truth." It chanced—at least that is the way in which we use language—it chanced that Mr. Tyler's eyes as he repeated these words rested on Marion. Speaking of it afterward she said: "So far as the impression made on me was concerned, it was the same as though he had said: 'Do you understand what an idiot you have been not to take that cardinal point into consideration at all? Open your Bible and read, and see how like a weak-minded babe you are.'" Beside her lay a Bible just dropped by some one who had been called out. Following out the impulse of the moment she turned to the reference, and her clear voice gave it distinctly: "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God or whether I speak of myself." The effect of this simple, straightforward and reasonable proposition, on sounding back to her spoken by her own voice, was tremendous. Very little more of the talk did she hear. A thrust, from God's own sword had reached her. What a fool she had been! What right had she to presume to give an opinion before applying the test? Had not the most common-place statements a right to be tried by their own tests? Yet she had never given this simple direction a thought. So this was the Bible promise? "He shall know." Not that these things are so, but a more logical, more satisfactory statement to the natural heart. He shall judge for himself whether these things be so; follow the directions, and then judge by your experiences after that whether these things be true or false. Could anything be more reasonable? "I shall never dare to say that I don't believe the Bible again, for fear some one will ask me whether I have applied the test, and if I have not what business have I to judge. That man now, if I should come in contact with him, which I shall endeavor not to do, would be sure to ask me. He has almost the same as asked it now, before all these people. He has a mysterious way of making me feel as though he was talking for my confusion and for nobody else." This Marion told to herself as she eyed the leader, half sullenly. He had strangely disturbed her logic and set her refuge in ruins. "Let's go," she said suddenly to Eurie. "I am tired of this; I have had enough, and more than enough." But the hour was over, and she had had all that was to be secured from that source. All the younger portion of the congregation seemed to be rushing back up the hill again, and inquiry developed the fact that Mrs. Clark was to meet the primary workers in the large tent. It was wonderful how many people chose to consider themselves primary workers? At least they rushed to this meeting, a great army of them, as though their one object in life, was to learn how successfully to teach the little ones. Our girls all met together in the tent. Ruth and Flossy had finished their preparations, but had concluded to wait until afternoon service. "I declare if you are not armed with a pencil and paper. Have you been seized with a mania for taking notes?" This Eurie said to Ruth. "Now I'm going to get out my note book too. Here is a card—it will hold all I care to write I dare say. Let me see, who knows but I shall go to teaching in Sabbath-school one of these days! I am going to make a list of the things which according to Mrs. Clark, we shall need." True to her new fancy, she scribbled industriously during the session, and showed her card with glee as they left the tent. "I've a complete list," she said. "If any of you go into the business I can supply you with the names of the necessary tools. Look! "A blackboard. "A picture roll. "A punch! "Cards. "Brains! "Blank book. "Children. "More brains! "That last item," she said, reflectively, "is the hardest to find. I had no idea so much of that material was necessary. Now let me see what is on your papers." This even Marion stoutly resisted. And Flossy quietly hid hers in her pocket, saying with a smile: "Mine is simply a list of things needful for such work." If she had shown her paper it would have astonished Eurie, and it might have done her good. This was what she had written: "What I need in order to be a successful teacher. "Such a forgetfulness of self as shall lead me to think only of the little ones and their needs. "Such a love for Christ as shall lead me to long after every little soul to lead it to him." As for Marion her paper contained simply this sentence, carefully written out in German text as if she had deliberated over each letter; "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." They went in a body to hear Dr. Hatfield. "I want that lecture," Marion said, "'Perils of the Hour.' I'm very anxious to know what my peril is. I know just what is hovering over every one of you, but I can't quite make up my mind as to my own state. Perhaps the distinguished gentleman can help me." And he did. He had selected for one of the perils that which was embodied in the following ringing sentence: "The third peril is the prevelancy of skepticism. A class of scientists have discovered that there is no God! What the fool said in his heart they proclaimed on the house-top!" Eurie looked over at her, smiling and mischievous, and said in anything but a softly whisper, "That means you, my dear." But Marion did not hear her; she was absorbed in the intense scathing sentences that followed. Of one thing she presently felt assured, that whoever was right or whoever was wrong in this matter, Dr. Hatfield believed with all the intensity of an intense educated intellect that God ruled. Was it probable that he had met the condition, done his will, and so knew of the doctrine? That was an hour to be remembered. Eurie ceased to whisper or to frolic; there was too much intensity, about the speaker's manner not to claim her attention. She listened as she was not in the habit of listening. She could give you a detailed account even now of that hour of thought; so could I, and I am awfully tempted; but, you see, it is only Tuesday, and the girls have six more days to spend at Chautauqua. Both Ruth and Flossy got their crumb to think over. They discussed it at the hotel that evening. "I tell you, Flossy, if Dr. Hatfield is correct you and I have tremendous changes to make in our way of spending the Sabbath; and I have actually prided myself on the way in which I respected the day!" And Ruth laughed as if that were so strange a thought, now that it was hardly possible to think that she could have entertained it. "I know," Flossy said; "and he can not but be right, for he proved his position. I am glad I heard that address. But for him, I know I should never have thought of my influence in some places where I now see I can use it. Ruth you will be struck with one thing. Now, Chautauqua is like what Madame C's school might have been, so far as study is concerned. Every day I have a new lesson, one that startles me so! I feel that there must be some mistake, or I would have heard of or thought of some of these things before. And yet they sound so reasonable when you come to think them over, that presently I am surprised that I have not felt them before. Ruthie, do you think Eurie and Marion have any interest at all?" "No," said Ruth, positively, "I know Marion hasn't. It was only the other evening that she talked more wildly if anything than before." About this time Marion, alone in her tent, said again, as she had said a dozen times during the last few days: "If I only knew!" And this time she added, "If I only knew how to know!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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