The appointed way: a tale of the Seventh-day Adventists

Table Of Contents

CHAPTER page

I. THE ROSY-HUED FUTURE 9

II. A Seventh-Day adventist meeting .... 20

II

“ It may be true in a way, but not a very plain one,” Mark said teasingly. “The idea may be an ideal one, Louise, but I am glad we do not live in such an age as that. I have no wish to spend my days rescuing beautiful maidens and slaying dragons.”

Louise did not reply. Her eyes were fixed on the scene outside. She looked away to where the Genesee River, a zone of silver, wound its way through the fields of green grass and yellow grain. At last she said slowly :

“ Do you remember the good Sir Percivale’s exclamation ? It was

“Ah, Christ, that It would come And heal the world of all their wickedness.”

“See here, Louise,” and Mark sat up, frowning a little, “if you are not careful you’ll grow up to be a poet yourself.”

That time the girl’s dark eyes turned to his face. They sparkled as Louise cried :

“If I am not careful ! You speak as if it was something to be avoided, while 1 — why, Mark Fletcher, I would rather be a poet than a queen.”

“It might be easier,” the boy admitted gayly. “ Not quite so distinguished though, as there are more poets than queens in the world. If you are bound to be a poet, Louise, do try to be a good one. Now there’s Mrs. David Brown. You know whenever one of the Browns dies she publishes a — now don’t scowl ; I am not going to say a poem, but a series of rhymes in the ‘ Belmont Argus.’ I am not much of a judge of poetry, but somehow 1 would rather you would model after Tennyson than after Mrs. Brown.”

“Thank you. I will remember your advice. Really I would myself prefer Tennyson for a master.”

They both laughed, then a silence fell between them. Mark lay down on the hay and stared up at the roof, while Louise went back to her contemplation of the scene outside.

Mark and Louise were the only children of a farmer. Their home was a large farm which lay two miles outside of the village of Belmont. Both children had attended the village high-school, driving there each morning. Mark had graduated a month before this July afternoon. Louise was to continue on at school and would be a junior next year.

Suddenly the girl turned to her brother.

“Mark, what are you going to be when you are a man ? I know how eager you are to go to college, but what then ? ”

It was a moment before Mark replied. His eyes sparkled and a look of determination came to his boyish face, giving it an expression of gravity and strength.

“ I am going to be an orator, Louise. You know I am to stay at home and work on the farm for a year. Then father has promised to let me go to Cornell. He offered to let me go this fall if I would be contented with a two-years’ course in the State agricultural school that is connected with the college. But, well as 1 love the old place, I am not going to be a farmer. 1 must have a classical course, for an orator needs a thorough training not only in his own language but in others.”

“Yes,” and Louise smiled approval, although there was a puzzled look upon her face. “You did splendidly with your graduating essay, and I remember how you enjoyed the debates. But an orator — that’s vague, Mark. I don’t just see ”

She stopped as if uncertain how to proceed. A flush dyed Mark’s cheek as he said with a laugh :

“ I am not surprised that you do not see ; it is a long way off yet. I have set myself a goal, Louise. It is the halls of Congress.”

“ Oh ! ” in a disappointed voice. “A politician. Mark, I don’t like that.”

“Well, I mean something different from just a common politician. I suppose I will have to be in politics in a way to get to Congress ; but, Louise, I mean to be a statesman. Something noble and patriotic is what I am planning for. When 1 get through college I will lecture and earn money so that I can carry on my studies ; go abroad perhaps. You shall be proud of me, sister mine.”

“ I shall be proud of you, Mark, if you make a good man. Why, I am proud of you now. I — I had — Mark, I had hoped you would be a minister.”

“ A minister ! Well, that’s an idea for you. Poets are always visionary, but this idea of yours beats me.”

“ I did not mean while you think as you do now,” Louise said, a note of sadness in her voice. ” Some day, Mark, you — yes, and father, too — will think differently. You will be Christians. I am sure you will.”

“ What made you think of my being a minister ? ” Mark asked, wishing to divert his sister’s attention.

” First, because I think it is the noblest profession in the world. Then you can speak easily, and I know you enjoy it. Why, it was doubtless the very things that made you decide to be an orator.”

“ Well, an orator and a statesman I am going to be. You will see, Louise. 1 didn’t really mean to laugh at you about the poetry. If you can write I shall be proud of you. Louise, you must go to college.”

” Of course 1 must. I wish I could be ready to enter Cornell when you do. You will have to do some studying at home if you are ready to enter the freshman class next year.”

‘‘Yes, but that will be no hardship. There will be the long winter evenings. O Louise, I had forgotten what I came up here to tell you. Father says we will all drive over to the Matthews schoolhouse this evening and hear the Adventist minister who is holding meetings there.

‘‘ I’d better go to the house, then, for it must be nearly time for lunch and mother will want my help.”

As Louise rose her brother looked closely at her.

A ray of light from the sun low in the west fell across the girl’s expressive face.

“Don’t you want to go, Louise? You look — well, disturbed.’’

“Yes, I want to go, but — I would rather go to Belmont, to our own church. I know I went this morning, and that ought to be enough. About this Adventist ? How is he different from other ministers ? ’’

“ For one thing they keep Saturday, which they call the Sabbath, instead of Sunday. And they pretend the end of the world is coming soon. Some of the boys have heard this man, and they say it is great fun to hear him go on.’’

Louise made a dissenting gesture. They had descended the ladder, left the barn, and were crossing the yard on their way to the house. The girl spoke in a slow, hesitating manner.

“ I don’t like to hear people say such things. It is God’s service to this man. Has he made many converts ? ’’

“ A few. Some of the folks from Carter and the Gaines family. You know they always join everything that comes along, and remain faithful to it until the next thing comes.’’

Louise could not refrain from smiling. They went around the house and ascended the steps leading up to a long front porch. From there double doors opened into a hall. There was a flight of stairs, a door at the right that opened into the parlor, one at the left that opened into the sitting room.

l6 THE APPOINTED WAY

and at the farther end of the hall another door which gave entrance into the dining room.

Mark and his sister passed into the sitting room. This communicated with their parents’ chamber and also with the dining room. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher were seated in rockers. He was reading a newspaper, while she held in her hands a worn copy of a Kempis’ “ Imitation of Christ.”

John Fletcher was a little under medium height and slender. The dark face of Louise resembled that of her father, save that the man’s countenance wore a doubting, questioning expression. The farmer’s nature was dreamy and poetical, yet he had been most successful in his chosen work.

Mrs. Fletcher was a gentle, low-voiced woman, and was entirely devoted to the interests of her family. Her fair face was still flushed with pink, and her soft brown hair was untouched by the finger of time.

Both parents looked up to greet their children. There was a discussion of their proposed ride. Then Mrs. Fletcher and Louise went to prepare the usual Sunday-night lunch, while father and son went to attend to the chores at the barn.

Fletcher farm contained three hundred acres. There were good buildings and the place was well stocked. While Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher were both industrious, their circumstances were such that they were not obliged to work as hard as did many farmers and their wives. A family that lived in the tenant house boarded the hired help. The milk from the dozen fine cows was taken to a neighboring creamery, and the man who lived in the tenant house was hired by the year, one of his duties being to do the milking.

An hour later the family gathered around the table. Mrs. Fletcher had always tried to make their home the most pleasant place in the world to her children. When they were small they had looked upon the “Sunday-night lunch “ as something a little better than the other meals of the week. Louise remembered that, so she spread the table with extra care.

In the center was a glass bowl filled with late crimson roses. The china was the fragile lavender and white that had been the bridal gift of John Fletcher’s mother, and the silver was massive and of quaint old design.

The meal consisted of cold roast chicken, white and brown bread, sweet yellow butter, radishes, currant jelly, fresh red raspberries, a loaf of pound cake, iced milk, and a tiny pot of tea for Mrs. Fletcher.

While eating, the family talked of the meeting to which they were going. Mr. Fletcher was something of a student and he explained the term “adventism ’’ to his children.

“ They hold that the second coming of Christ — the advent — will precede the millennium. They also claim that their views rest on the literal interpretation of the Bible. Some time ago — I think it was in 1843 — there was a split in the church caused by the B failure of their prophecy that the world should come to an end on a certain day of that year. Several divisions arose. This branch, known as the Seventh-day Adventists from their observance of the seventh day of the week as the Sabbath, has become the best known.*'

“ Is it much of a church ? ” Mark asked, passing his dish for a second helping of berries.

Mr. Fletcher shrugged his shoulders. “ I think it is much like the rest. Each claims its superiority over the others, and all cannot be right.”

A slight cloud rested upon the faces of both mother and daughter. It was the sorest trial of Eunice Fletcher’s life that her husband — kind, affectionate and upright — was a skeptic. For long years she had daily prayed that he might come to see the error of his position.

A few minutes more and they rose from the table. The work was hastened, and by the time the pair of shining blacks and the two-seated carriage were at the door Louise and her mother were ready.

“You’d better take a shawl,” Mrs. Fletcher lingered in the hall to say to her daughter.

Mark sat in front with his father, while Mrs. Fletcher and Louise occupied the back seat. As the horses trotted leisurely down the country road the western sky was aglow with crimson and yellow light. A slight breeze just stirred the leaves on the trees, while occasionally from some tree that shaded the highway or from some neighboring orchard a wild bird’s note rang out in a vesper song.

Louise lifted a glowing face to her mother. “ How sweet and peaceful it is ! My heart overflows with happiness. It does not seem possible, mother, that sorrow and suffering are anywhere in this beautiful world.”

The hand of Mrs. Fletcher stole out and closed over that of her daughter. Louise’s poetical nature responded to the beauty of the scene, and the mother was able to comprehend and enter into the girl’s feelings.

“God is very good to us, daughter,” she said softly. “ In his kindness he has spared us thus far what comes to many. We can trust him, Louise ; trust him as well when sorrow does come as in this time of freedom from care.”

II

T he Matthews schoolhouse, where the Adventist meeting was to be held, was two miles distant from Fletcher farm. It did not take long for the fine black horses to traverse that distance. Mark, who was driving, drew up to the steps in front of the building, handed the lines to his father, sprang down and helped his mother and sister to alight from the carriage. Then Mr. Fletcher drove around to the place where teams were hitched. Mark accompanied him, leaving Mrs. Fletcher and Louise on the steps among a group-of women and girls.

A few minutes were given to friendly conversation, for the Fletchers were well acquainted in the surrounding country. Nora Lees, a pretty dimpled-faced girl, caught Louise’s arm.

“ Come and sit with me, Louise. I’ve been here before. Sometimes it is funny and again it is awful. That is when the speaker tries to frighten us,” and Nora shivered.

Louise looked questioningly at her mother. Nora understood.

” Oh, families do not sit together here as they do at church. This is different.”

“It is a service to worship God, Nora, dear,” 20

Mrs. Fletcher said so tenderly that the thoughtless girl was touched. “ I think it better for Louise to sit with me.”

Louise was conscious of a feeling of relief. With Nora it would not have been easy to maintain the devout spirit which then filled her heart and which she had resolved to carry through the service.

As Mrs. Fletcher, her daughter, and several other ladies entered the schoolhouse, Louise saw that the room was lighted by a half-dozen kerosene lamps. The contrast between the calm, fading radiance without and the garish illumination, impressed her unpleasantly, and she shuddered.

Already the room was nearly filled. After a hasty glance about her, Louise turned her eyes to the teacher's desk, where stood a tall, stooping figure. She knew this must be the speaker of the evening. Many, many times in the years that came to Louise Fletcher did she recall the first time her eyes rested upon Thomas Graves. For the second time that evening she shuddered. She also choked slightly. It was as if a hand grasped her throat.

” How silly lam!” she thought. ” Nora’s words about his trying to frighten people must have made me nervous.”

Thomas Graves stood with one hand resting upon the high desk, his head bowed upon his breast. The lower part of his thin face was covered by a straggling beard. His black hair was worn long and was in disorder. After a moment he raised his head, and swept the room with a covert gaze from a pair of dull, black eyes.

People continued to enter the door. Soon the room was packed, and even then there was a group of men and boys on the steps. Suddenly the minister spoke in a high-pitched, nasal voice :

“ It is time to begin our worship. We will sing a familiar hymn, and all are asked to join.”

He started “Jesus, lover of my soul.” A chorus of voices at once took up the well-known and wellloved hymn. The Fletchers all sang, and to Louise the familiar melody brought a momentary forgetfulness of her unfavorable impression of the minister.

The singing over, Mr. Graves stretched out his arms, and said impressively :

“ Let us pray.”

He knelt and prayed in the same nasal tone in which he had spoken. His words were hurried, a little incoherent, and seemed familiar rather than reverential. He quoted Scripture glibly. Louise was ashamed because of the sense of relief that came to her when he rose to his feet.

“ I ought to feel altogether different,” she said to herself. “ It is easy to see that he is in earnest.”

After another hymn, in which the congregation joined heartily, Mr. Graves read the second and third chapters of the book of Revelation. Then at once he began speaking, taking for his text a clause from the first chapter of Acts, “ the things pertaining to the kingdom of God.”

Mr. Graves made a better impression as a speaker than when in prayer. He seemed thoroughly aroused. His stooping form was drawn erect, and from his dark eyes there shone a strange, flickering light like a smothered flame.

There was a certain amount of logic in what he said, although a keen reasoner might have seen, as few of his listeners did, that many of his statements were not proved. He gave each one, repeated the thought in different language, emphasizing it by some passage of Scripture, which did not always apply to the subject, and went on apparently so sure that his listeners were convinced that it was not always easy to remember the flimsiness of his arguments.

It was not long that he dwelt upon the spiritual things that pertain to the kingdom of God. Instead of faith and love he talked of Sabbath observance, of “separation from the world,” and of “persecution for righteousness’ sake.” Soon he began to speak of the end of the world and of the Second Advent.

“ Heed the words of the sacred book,” he cried in piercing tones, holding the Bible extended before him. “ The tenth day of the seventh month is at hand. It will witness the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ in the clouds of heaven. The time is close upon us ; I may be making my last appeal to you. God will not long endure the sins of this age. He will come, and come not in his former lowly estate, but in his chariot of fire. The world shall perish and all that are therein— all save the faithful few, the remnant church. Unto these has been made known the way of salvation. They and they alone are ready to meet the Lord in the day of his appearing.”

The hand of Louise crept into that of her mother. The girl was thrilled, perhaps as much by a certain dramatic fervor that marked the discourse as by the words themselves. She felt the lack of trust in God as a loving Father that marked the passionate appeal, yet, while troubled and repelled, she was strangely moved.

Mrs. Fletcher smiled reassuringly into her daughter’s face. Louise nestled close to her mother. The voice of the minister, raised almost to a shout, went on.

In the meantime Mark, who was seated among his boy friends, was listening idly. The lad’s nature was not stirred. He vaguely felt the speaker’s personal magnetism that roused interest even while it repelled. That was all.

This was not the case with John Fletcher. He had come into that meeting in a sneering, skeptical mood. It would have been impossible for him to tell why it was that he, who had listened unmoved to eloquent sermons, should have had his wandering attention arrested and held by this uncultured, fanatical speaker. It was the case, however. Mr. Fletcher sat, one elbow on the desk before him, his eyes shaded by his hand. This concealed the intensity of the gaze he fastened upon Thomas Graves.

After reiterating his statements that the Advent Church had discovered the real meaning of the Bible prophecies, the minister again turned his attention to the second coming of Christ. He declared it was very near.

“ Why don’t he explain how it was that when they set the time for it a few years ago it failed to materialize ? ” a jolly-faced farmer, who occupied the seat with Mr. Fletcher, whispered in his ear.

John Fletcher made no reply. Indeed he hardly heard the words. What was it the speaker was saying ?

“ Behold, the Bridegroom cometh ! Wake ye and rouse ye from sleep ! The day is at hand. Methinks I hear the blast of the last trumpet, announcing the coming of an angry and warlike God. The evil — those who have refused to hear the call — will vainly try to hide, but then it will be too late. Who will improve this chance to escape from this awful peril ? Who will now accept the assurance of eternal welfare, of safety in the hour of universal destruction ? ”

Louise caught her breath. By a strong effort she turned her gaze from the excited, distorted face of Thomas Graves. Her eyes sought the window near. Blinded by the light of the lamps, she could see nothing but darkness without. By some strange mental process, there momentarily passed before her eyes the scene upon which she had looked but an hour before : the sky flushed with the sunset’s radiance, the fields of grass and grain through which the silvery river and the treeshaded highway wound.

“Ah, how different that scene was from this,” the girl thought. “ And yet the difference is no greater than between my idea of a forgiving, loving God and this man’s teachings of an angry, revengeful one. What was it Sir Percivale cried of the Holy Grail ?

“ Ah, Christ, that it would come And heal the world of all their wickedness.

That would be my — what is that ”

Graves had continued his exhortation. Two persons had risen, one a woman past middle age and the other a half-grown boy. This partial success seemed to fan the fire of the minister’s frenzy into a still brighter flame. His voice grew shriller, and he swung his arms, crying :

“Who will come, come now.? Who will escape from the day of doom that is dawning even at this hour ? ”

There was a movement on the side of the room opposite Louise. She leaned forward, and saw her father rise to his feet.

The face of John Fletcher was very pale. After one quick, searching glance in the direction of his wife, he stood with his head bent forward, his eyes staring straight at the floor.

Graves saw at once that this movement was a surprise to his audience. The little stir and bustle led him to conclude that this small, reservedlooking man was a person of some importance in the community. If so, he was gaining ground ; thus far his followers had belonged to a low grade, both socially and intellectually.

A few moments more were given to exhortation. Then Graves knelt and offered a loud, jubilant prayer. John Fletcher had reseated himself. Resting both elbows on the desk, he bowed his face in his hands and sat motionless.

Both Mrs. Fletcher and Louise were aware of a strange warfare in their hearts. They had longed for the husband and father to renounce his skeptical views. But this strange, new doctrine he was apparently about to embrace — was it of God ?

Louise dropped her head upon the desk and cried softly. Mrs. Fletcher sought relief in prayer.

“If John accepts Christ, what does it matter what church he chooses ? ” the wife thought. “ I will just be glad because the old days of doubt are passing.”

As for Mark, he clenched his hands until the nails cut into the flesh. Of what could his father be thinking ? Those boys in the seat back of him were laughing, laughing at his father !

“ I wish we had stayed at home,” Mark thought angrily.

The meeting was dismissed. Graves hurried down the aisle, planting himself before John Fletcher in such a way that it was not possible for the wife to reach her husband. A torrent of eager questions fell from the minister's lips.

“I’ll go and bring around the horses,” Mark said, so loud that both his parents could hear.

Louise stood still, her face turned away. It chanced that no one spoke to her. Mrs. Fletcher leaned over the desk to lay one hand on her husband’s arm.

“John, I am so glad that you see that God is and that you are about to serve him. Let us go home now.”

Mr. Graves turned fiercely upon her.

“Who are you, woman, that you should dare attempt to come between this man and the vision that has been vouchsafed him ? ”

Before she could reply to this question her husband spoke.

“ This is Mrs. Fletcher, my wife. Yes, Eunice, we will go home. I — I will see you again,” turning to the minister. “ Will you not come to my home to-morrow ? I must have a long talk with you.”

“ I will come. In the meantime do not let any one, least of all those of your own hearth, turn you from the path opened before you. It is your duty to save those near to you. Do not let them persuade you to turn back.”

“You do not understand,” Mrs. Fletcher said, her pale face flushing hotly. “ I am a Christian, and the greatest desire of my heart has been my husband’s conversion.”

“ Ah, you may be a Christian, but you are not of God’s elect. It remains for you to follow your husband and lead your children into the higher life.”

“ Come, let us go home,” Mrs. Fletcher spoke with an impatience that was new to her.

“I will look for you to-morrow,” John Fletcher said to Mr. Graves.

The farmer hurried his wife and daughter away. A neighbor would have detained him for conversation, but Mr. Fletcher passed on, leaving the man’s remark unanswered. Mark had the team in waiting, and in a few minutes they were all seated in the carriage and homeward bound.

The sky was thickly studded with stars, but there was no moon. The breeze had increased in force and rustled the leaves of the trees under which they passed. Louise shivered and said :

“I — I am cold, father ” And she stopped,

unable to proceed.

“I understand, dear child.” John Fletcher’s voice had grown very tender. His daughter was well beloved. ” 1 see my mistake. It was not so much this man’s reasoning. I have heard far more convincing arguments. Somehow, it was as if 1 had built a barrier of doubt around myself, and the force and intensity of Mr. Graves’ preaching broke it down. Before I can decide whether 1 am to accept all this strange doctrine I must know more of it. In one way his words must be true. The God whom I have denied cannot be otherwise than angry with me.”

“O John, don’t say that!” And the wife leaned forward, clutching her husband’s arm with both hands. ” He is all compassion and love.

‘Like as a father pitieth his children.' You can understand that, for nothing would ever turn you or me against our children. Let me tell you ”

“ Please, Eunice, do not say anything more about it. I can’t talk of the matter now, not even to you.”

Mrs. Fletcher was too wise to say more. She sank back in her seat, a sudden sense of separation from her husband assailing her. Louise comprehended something of this, and put her strong, young arm around her mother.

” I am sure it will all come right,” the girl whispered, trying to give her mother the assurance that was not her own.

No more was said. Mark drove at a brisk trot, and very soon they were at home.

‘‘I will put out the horses,” Mark said; and his father turned away without a word and entered the house.

A feeling of constraint, as new as it was oppressive, had fallen upon the members of the household. Neither Mrs. Fletcher nor Louise knew what to say. Mr. Fletcher sat down at the sitting-room table without speaking.

‘‘You better go to bed, Louise,” Mrs. Fletcher said, pitying the grave-faced girl who was so ill at ease.

Louise kissed her parents and left the room with a murmured good night. John Fletcher turned his head and looked closely at her as she passed into the hall. Then he lapsed into his former abstraction, while his wife moved around that and the adjoining room, occasionally touching a chair or a book as if seeking for some task, the doing of which might lessen her bewilderment.

Mark entered the house by the kitchen door. He did not come to the sitting room. Mrs. Fletcher heard him open the door of the back stairway. Then he called :

“ Good night, father. Good night, mother. I am off to bed, for I must be up early in the morning.”