Tom's Heathen

Preface

. The last word is on the first page, and I would advise that somewhat remarkable reader who stops to look at a preface to turn over the page, and if he must read it at all, to read it when the story is ended. There are always a few inquisitive people who must have a last word, and probably my preface-reader is among that few, and to him I would say confidentially that the persons who figure in this story are all living, with the exception of Mr. Dyer. But no one would think of calling the dignified pastor "Tom," or his new son-in-law "Jack." All the rest have respectable names, even the doctor who is herein nameless. CON TENTS.

Chapter I. Tom Preaches And

I PRACTISE. ' I "OM and I were inseparable up to the time that he began to study divinity, and I medicine ; when he went to Andover, while I remained in New Haven. The first year letters flew thick and fast, but as each became ab sorbed in his own work and in the new friends professional interests brought about him, longer intervals elapsed, till, though we were still fast friends, the same thoughts no longer ran through both, as light through two divisions of one telescope. After receiving my diploma, I went to a neighbouring city, opened an office, and waited B for patients to manifest their faith by trusting their lives in my hands. At about the same time came an invitation to attend Tom's instal lation over a thriving country parish in Massa chusetts. Circumstances prevented my acceptance, whereupon I sent a letter full of good wishes, and concluded by offering my professional services gratis.

For the latter I received "Thanks," with the assurance that when he became weary in well-doing I should be summoned. Later on I heard of him as a rising man, with restless symptoms, and at length, in consequence of changes to larger fields of labour, I insensibly lost track of him for the ensuing six or seven years. In fact, Tom and I had forgotten each other, — a result we once thought impossible, — when one Sunday morning sister Mary came into my office with, " Doctor, have you an unusual number of patients on your list this morning ? " " No ; we are having a spasm of health just now. Why ? " " Nothing ; only John and Annie have gone crazy over their new minister, and to quiet their ravings I promised to hear him this morning, if you would take me over." Now, I knew this was more than half a device to get me to church ; for Mary, good soul, was not a little troubled by discovering in me what she called " a growing indisposi tion to attend divine ordinances."

But after a moment's consideration, willing to gratify her I said, " Yes, if I have time." We were a little late, and the new minister was speaking when we entered. Something in his voice drew my eyes to his face, and before we were fairly seated I recognised with glad surprise my old friend Tom. Yea, verily ! Tom Peebles. Yes, that was the same dark face with its thin nose and sensi tive mouth. Yes, even the refractory lock of hair that would fall into his eyes, threatening strabismus. The same, yet changed. Tom's face told that he had been thinking on his own account the past six or seven years. That restless metaphysical bias that began to crop out during our college days must have developed amazingly. It was evident that he had fought hard battles, not only with himself, but with powers that no man can weigh, measure, or take into account.

It was also evident that he had by no means attained to a condition of absolute serenity. But as he went farther into a discourse that claimed and held my close attention, I found that he had not only deepened but broadened, and was fearless and honest, a man thoroughly to be respected. Before the services were half over Tom had recognised me, and at the foot of the platform began a renewal of our ancient friendship. Thereafter, scarcely a day passed that he did not scud across the park and invade my private den, — a narrow room in the rear of my office, fitted up with a lounge, easy-chair, bookcases, and an open fireplace. Often I found him stretched on the lounge, twisting that refractory lock of hair about his long forefinger, — an old trick of his when thoughtful or perplexed. One Monday evening, after he had become an habitue', I found him on the lounge, turning restlessly from side to side, twisting that lock of hair with unusual rapidity, — a sure sign of perturbation.

We rarely questioned each other ; if either had aught to share, it came out in time ; so now I sat and ruminated, while he fidgeted, till at length he came bolt up right, jammed both hands into his trousers pockets, and exploded : — " Doctor, do you know that if I couldn't come here and rush off my surplus steam, a catastrophe would be imminent ? It is im possible to conjecture what frightful form the latent heresy in me would assume, but for this safety valve. Just now I am in an un usual ferment. ' Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon,' but that private heresy of mine concerning a personal devil has gone higher than a kite. I must subscribe to his personality, having seen him." " Recently ? " " Last Sunday." " Whereabouts ? " In one of my heathen." " Tom, what did you have for supper last night ?

" " Now, doctor, none of that. I know what you are going to say, but I was never more free from dyspepsia in my life." " That is not saying much." " Doctor, you have a most absurd way of tracing everything to a man's stomach. If I were to tell you that the Republicans had been whipped in this campaign, you would say 'Pie!'" "Very likely. But what about the heathen, Tom ? There can be no heathen in your congregation." " There are, though, and a more unteachable set were never seen. For three years I have laid myself out to Christianize them, — tau .it, preached, prayed, laboured like a ship in a storm ; and Sunday after Sunday they come up, smiling, self-satisfied, content if only they have enough to eat, drink, and wear, and some one to talk about. I am used up, and all to no purpose. I am going to beseech the A. B. C. F. M. to send up a couple of experi enced missionaries, and if they don't find it the toughest job yet !

Anything but a civilized heathen ! A savage you can influence, — he will ' scare ' at least ; but a civilized heathen, a man who has been to church all his days, knows the Bible from Genesis to Revelation, gives of his filthy lucre because it is expected, but cares no more for the wants or woes of his fellow-men than if they were so many paving stones, — for such a man there is no Christ, nor can be : their lives repudiate His. Now, there is one heathen in my audience who is an especial exasperation, and there seems no way to get hold of him or get rid of him. He rides me like a nightmare. Sometimes he gets on my study table and prevents my writing at all ; other times I shove him back, and write a sermon that just fits his case, and go into the pulpit and preach it straight at him. And there he sits, cool and critical, as if he thought I was trying to amuse him, inclined to be indulgent if I fail, or quietly pleased if I succeed.

And when I get off something I think he cannot possibly withstand, he looks in my face and smiles — slowly — and I can feel him saying, ' Well done, my lad ! well done ! That sounds finely, and I hope Judge Tomp kins takes it home. It fits him exactly.' " Now, really, doctor," continued Tom, more quietly, " that man has a soul, and I almost know that it is an unsaved soul ; and at times I long with an unspeakable longing to save it. I mean, to feel that it is saved, and I have used all known means and methods, and have signally failed. There is something wrong, somewhere." "Did you leave the Lord out of your pre scription, Tom ? " " No," slowly, and in a lower tone. " He knows better than I can tell how I have be sought His power and influence." After a pause he added, " One of the worst results is its disheartening influence upon me.

Some times his cool, practical unbelief knocks all faith out of me. I go home in a thoroughly collapsed condition, feeling as if I would never write another sermon. Of course it don't last ; of course the unbelief of any man, scientific or otherwise, ought not and would not betray me for any length of time. Still, not being so thoroughly rooted and grounded in the faith as I ought to be, — the result of some inherited tendency, — and a little over-sensitive thereby, he troubles me seriously." " Why do you look at him, then ? " " I cannot help it. He occupies a pew well up the centre aisle, is always there, and always looks me steadily in the face with a gaze that brings my eyes to his whether I will or not. If I look off my manuscript, I have got to look at him. Sometimes it is worse than others.

Last Sunday, for instance, I don't think there was any one else in the church. At least, I didn't see any one else." " Who is this mesmerizing heathen ? " asked I, not a little amused. " You must know him — Joel Dyer, banker." " That immaculate person, with a grave, scholarly face, whom I meet so regularly in the streets ? " " Probably. They tell me that he has passed the post-office at precisely ten minutes past ten and ten minutes past three o'clock every week day the past twenty years. People keep time by him. He is far more reliable than the State House clock. And yet he goes leisurely, his hands clasped behind him, and his eyes on the pavement, as if in a profound study." " I know him. But he is the last man I should take for a heathen. For a long time I supposed him a minister of the gospel of the most orthodox type.

I remember that I was once called to his house professionally. There was a son born, and the mother died. I suppose he married again ?" " No. And he still wears his weed from habit, they say." " I wonder what became of the son? It was a poor, wizened specimen of humanity." " Dead, probably, as I have never heard of a son. There is an only daughter, a Vassar student, who comes to church with her father during vacations. She, too, is a heathen, probably by inheritance." "Where is your charity, Tom? " Haven't a particle, and I am going home before I say anything worse." Tom ! " as he was closing the door. Well ? " without looking back. Take a seidlitz powder before going to bed to-night, and another in the morning." He turned long enough to shake his fist at me, and sharply closed the door. " Behave better when you come again !

" No answer. Tom was still in my thoughts, — his earnestness, his honesty, and the, to him, unsatisfactory results of his labour, and especially the un wholesome influence of this cultivated heathen, — and I was casting about for causes, when footsteps in the office suggested the possibility of his return. I opened the door to bid him enter, when, to my amazement, I saw, not Tom, but Tom's heathen. I passed him and turned up the gas before I was fully per suaded that the object was really flesh and blood, and no optical illusion, growing out of Tom's talk and my subsequent reverie. " Good evening, doctor. "Good evening — Mr. Dyer, if I mistake not." " You are not mistaken," and he uncovered, showing a fine philosophical head, fearless, and not over-reverent. He took the proffered seat, adding, " It is some years since I had occasion to call upon you."

" Yes ; a dozen or more. " More. I found you discerning and honest then ; and if you are still the same, you are the man I want now." " I blow no trumpets." He smiled slowly, bringing out the very expression Tom had described. " Trumpets are not essential. You will hear what I have to say ? " " With interest." " Then I will say that I have been well, quite well, all my life. My parents were healthy, one dying of an accident, and the other of old age. I have steered clear of excesses, having no taste that way" (I could believe him) ; "have cared for myself reasonably well ; am yet middle-aged, and consequently at a loss to account for certain symptoms that manifest themselves with considerable decision of late. I have consulted supposed authorities, written and oral, and am still in the dark.

I wish you to search me thoroughly, and find out where the trouble is. If a man is about to ' shuffle off this mortal coil,' it is a little satisfaction to know why." " You look as if ' this mortal coil ' would cling to you for some time yet. You are not a man to succumb easily. Mention the symptoms." There followed as close an examination as was possible that night, and he came the next day, and at different times for several days ; and though I became as keen and eager as a politician after office, the disease, whatever it was, continued to baffle me. At times it seemed in the heart, or stomach, or nerve-centres, but when I essayed to put my finger upon it, I found that the disturbed action was sympathetic, not organic. I should have been tempted to believe it wholly or in part imaginary, — for it is a curious fact that when a supposed disease has taken fast hold upon the imagination, it becomes in a certain sense a real disease, with like symptoms, and not unfrequently a like fatal result, — only that this man was a clear, cool, practical man, not given to whimseys or delusions.

I told him my perplexity, and was reluctantly giving up the case, when I chanced upon something that set me off on a new scent, with greater zest than ever. Now it began to unravel. A few hours' investigation enabled me to form, as I believed, a correct diagnosis, but one that I was loath to communicate. I ever made it a point to be rigidly honest with my patients, but it was often one of the most difficult things I had to do. In this case I knew that an un favourable result was more than half expected, for he had studied his own case as if he was a disinterested observer, and that fact helped me to tell him my apprehensions. He demanded my reasons, and once in possession of all I could give, he looked me unflinchingly in the face, and said, " Well, doctor, if it is that, I am a doomed man."

"So are we all, sooner or later." After a long pause, while he stood with his hands clasped behind him and his eyes fixed on the floor, burrowing mentally, he suddenly lifted his head with this remark: — " I should have preferred almost anything else. A reasonable disease, with a direct approach and attack, not an insidious foe, ready to grab at any advantage. However, others have gone by the same road, and probably I can trudge along without making a child of myself." " But, Mr. Dyer, I may be mistaken even yet ; you should get the opinions of others. I will give you letters to physicians in New York and Philadelphia who make a specialty of this disease. Let them go to the bottom of the case. It is a duty you owe to your self." He took my advice. I ceased to meet him in the street. Watches ran down ; people were behind in their engagements ; accidents and misunderstandings occurred before the citizens realized that they must keep time by something else.

I believe, as a matter of history, there has been no uniform time in the city since, as witness the discrepancies between the South, the Centre, the State House clocks, and the "city time," whatever that may be. Four or five weeks later, I found Mr. Dyer in my office awaiting my arrival. We ex changed greetings, when he said, " Your were right, doctor, quite right." " About what ? " " The case we have been investigating. Dr. Holdon says you have a novel way of getting at facts, but you get at them, nevertheless. The other doctors agreed with you sub stantially, but they all differed as to treatment." A long conversation followed, in which I found him thoroughly posted as to supposed causes and details of his own case, and was amazed at the cool, discriminating way in which he spoke of himself, as of an indivi dual in whom he had no concern.

A unique patient, this heathen of Tom's — a petrifaction or a philosopher. Toward the close of our conversation he became more personal, asking this question, — " How long v/ill it be ? " " What ? " " How long have I to live ? ' " You ask me a question no mortal can answer." " I know. But the probabilities ? " " That depends upon your constitution and c mental equipoise, and the care you give your self. It may be ten years or it may be three months." " Three months ? " He went off into one of his fits of abstraction, giving me leisure to study his face. There was a subtle change in his mouth, that most expressive feature so far as suffering is concerned. He was evidently enduring great physical or mental pain. And was he altogether as in different to his fate as he seemed ? " Three months : not a long time.

Well, I can adjust myself to that, too, if necessary." "It is not necessary. You are too sensible to fix a time which must be uncertain." " Time is of little consequence. It is not even essential ' to be or not to be.' I don't know of anything that is worth a prolonged struggle." "And yet you have been a successful man." " What do you mean by success ? " "This: a young man starts with some aim, — generally to be rich, sometimes to be learned, — and if, after years of persevering toil, he attains his object, he is considered successful." " There are two sides to that, doctor. A man may succeed and not be successful. Taken as a whole, he may have made a con temptible failure." "That cannot be said of you." " But it can — just that. I feel like talking, and I will bore you a moment. I began life without a dollar, and now men say I am rich.

Well, I shall leave it all soon ; and how much better am I, that I have spent anxious days and sleepless nights, and toiled like a slave for what avails me nothing ? I have had only what I have consumed. I should have had that, any way." "You have a family." " Only a daughter ; and how much better will it be for her ? If she marries she will get some one who cares more for her money than for herself. If he is rich he will be either avaricious or a spendthrift ; if he is poor it will spoil him, and they will quarrel. Better labour for her bread all her days. Really, I cannot see that either of us are to be benefited by what has cost me so much. If that is success, what is failure ? " " Who, then, is successful ? " " No one. I have bored you long enough," said he, rising. " About this case, I propose to be guided by you in the main.

What are your orders ? " " Shut up your ledger, avoid care and anxiety, stay out of doors, be amused, and stop studying your case." " And no medicine ? " "Not at present." " If I need you, you will come ? " Yes."

Chapter II. Joel Dyer's Daughter

r I "HE summer passed, and Tom's vacation likewise. His elastic step and ringing voice told that he came back to his work with a clean liver and a clear brain, but I was not prepared for the lively way with which he threw himself into my den one Monday even ing, crying, " Hooray, doctor ! Help me exult ! " " Because you have gone stark mad ? " " Nonsense ! " ejaculated Tom, plunging his fist into the sofa-cushion as if he were punching an adversary. " What, then ? Explain, or I'll have you in a strait jacket." " Hold on, old Crusty ! " and Tom swung himself round, dropping his feet on the floor and his hands in his pockets, and looking me in the face, said soberly, " I verily believe I am getting the better of mine enemy." " An unfair advantage, no doubt." " How sympathetic ! It makes me feel like turning my heart inside out for your inspec tion."

" Don't do that, Tom, don't ! Leave me a little faith in human nature." " What's the matter with you, old fellow ? Has one of your best families called in a brother physician ? " "Tell me about your enemy, Tom." " Perhaps I ought not to call him an enemy, since, strictly speaking, he may not be mine enemy at all." " Worse and worse ! You would have me exult because you are getting the better of your friend ? " " Neither can I call him exactly a friend, this heathen of mine. It is singular what an antagonism, a vindictiveness, that man arouses in me, as if he had done me or mine a mortal injury. Of course I know that he has done nothing of the sort. On the contrary, he has ever treated me, personally, with the utmost consideration. And perhaps I ought to be grateful for his constant attendance on the Sabbath, and the liberal price he pays for his pew.

And there are times when I feel that he is one of the sheep committed to my care, and desire that he should hear the Master's voice, and follow in His steps. It argues ill for my Christianity, that I should harbour any but the kindest feelings towards any one, and especially towards a man who has done me no harm. While I was away this summer, I took myself in hand for this, and came home resolved to feel that he is in a sense my brother, whom I am under bonds to consider, love, and spend myself for, with cheerfulness. And, strange to say, the very first Sunday after my return, I detected a change in the man's face, as if he were a little less sure that he was entirely right and I entirely wrong. Probably you will say that it is all in my imagination, or in something I had for my supper Saturday night.

But I know there is a change in the man, and no slight change, either. It was more than ever per ceptible yesterday. He looked worn and troubled, and his eyes fell every time they met mine, a thing that never happened before ; and the latter part of the service he was ill at ease and could not look me in the face." " How modest we are ! The man was sick or tired ; or, perhaps, you were not as in teresting as usual." Of course Tom knew nothing of my professional relations with Mr. Dyer. " Be that as it may, I know he is no longer invincible, and has got through riding me like a nightmare. Hence, I exult. Such is poor human nature." For several weeks I heard no more of Tom's heathen and my unique patient. It had been a cold, rainy November day. Toward night the cold increased. The rain froze as it fell, coating walks, trees, and fences with ice ; and by dark it changed to a fierce, driving sleet that neither man nor beast could face with any degree of equanimity.

" There, Jack," said I, as we drove up to the office door, "put up the mare. She shall not go out again to-night for love or money." And getting out of my wrappings, I gave myself over to sister Mary, to be comforted by her ministrations, for I had been surprised by that New England nuisance, an influenza. An hour later, thoroughly warmed and re freshed, and as comfortable as such a cold will permit any one to be, I fell asleep in my chair, only to be aroused by Jack, with, " Doctor, there's a woman in the office, and she will see you." I groaned as I lifted my sore head, and wished that I had been born anything but a doctor. " Who is it, Jack ? " "No one I ever saw before. And how she got here in this storm is a conundrum." " Somebody's baby has a colic, and its mother don't know enough to give it a little hot water," I muttered, hoisting myself to my unwilling feet.

" You won't go out to night ? " questioned Mary, as I turned to go down to the office. " Not for all Hartford." My vexation cooled a little, and I heard the wind shaking the blinds and the sleet dashing furiously against the windows, and remembered that for the love of somebody, a woman had faced this bitter storm ; and it fell quite to zero as, entering the office, I saw standing by the stove a slight figure enveloped in a dripping waterproof cloak. " Good evening, madam." " Good evening, doctor " ; and she came towards me, pushing, with a dainty, ungloved hand, the wet waterproof hood from her head. It was a young, healthy face, and a well poised head. No bad blood, no weak spine there. She searched my face with large, serious eyes, as a tremendous blast spent itself against the house, and I remarked, " A rough night, madam."

" Yes," she answered in a low, earnest voice, " or I should not be here. My father is in great distress, and needs immediate attention. I have done all that I can do for him, and came to you, fearing you would not come if I sent for you." " Who is your father ? " " Mr. Dyer, a patient of yours." This, then, was the daughter to be benefited or otherwise by his money, — the Vassar student Tom supposed a heathen by inheritance. " What is the matter with your father to night ? " " He is having frightful paroxysms of pain. They have increased in frequency and intensity for several days, till to-day they are almost in cessant, and opiates are powerless. He told me that you studied the case for him, and that there is no help ; but I am sure there must be temporary relief." " Chloroform.'1 " Yes ; but I have never seen it administered.

If you will come over and give it this time, I may not be obliged to trouble you again." She saw me hesitate, listening to the storm without, and feeling the aches and pains in my own person, and without moving her beseech eyes from mine, she added almost in a whisper, " In the name of Him who suffered for us all, come ! " It was a prayer that I could not withstand, and perhaps she knew it ; for without waiting for an answer, she replaced her hood and hurried out into the storm. "That woman must be crazy to go out on such a night as this," remarked Jack, struggling to close the door that blew open after her exit. " I don't know which is the crazier," said I, putting on my arctics with one hand while I held my aching head with the other. " But Uncle Doctor, you are not going out in this storm, and sick, too ?

" cried Jack in dismay. " Bring my heavy overcoat and fur cap, and tell your mother not to wait for me." " Hadn't you better have one of the horses ? " " No." But I repented before I was half-way to Column Avenue, for the sleet drove spitefully in my face, blinding me effectually ; and the wind, taking advantage of my breadth of beam and the slippery walk, forced me into a sitting posture more than once. How that slender girl had come and gone over the route before me, passed my comprehension. Tired, breath less, and feeling as if I had within me the whole army of martyrs from Stephen downwards, I clambered up the icy steps. Instantly the door swung open, and I stood in a sumptuous hall, bewildered by the abrupt transition from the storm and darkness without to the light and warmth within.