Has the age of miracle quite gone by, or is it still possible to theVoice of Faith calling aloud upon the earth to wring1 from the dumbheavens an audible answer to its prayer? Does the promise uttered bythe Master of mankind upon the eve of the end--"Whoso that believethin Me, the works that I do he shall do also . . . and whatsoever2 yeshall ask in My name, that will I do"--still hold good to such as doask and do believe?
Let those who care to study the history of the Rev3. Thomas Owen, andof that strange man who carried on and completed his work, answer thisquestion according to their judgment4.
*****The time was a Sunday afternoon in summer, and the place a church inthe Midland counties. It was a beautiful church, ancient and spacious;moreover, it had recently been restored at great cost. Seven or eighthundred people could have found sittings in it, and doubtless they haddone so when Busscombe was a large manufacturing town, before thefailure of the coal supply and other causes drove away its trade. Nowit was much what it had been in the time of the Normans, a littleagricultural village with a population of 300 souls. Out of thispopulation, including the choir5 boys, exactly thirty-nine had electedto attend church on this particular Sunday; and of these, three werefast asleep and four were dozing6.
The Rev. Thomas Owen counted them from his seat in the chancel, foranother clergyman was preaching; and, as he counted, bitterness anddisappointment took hold of him. The preacher was a "Deputation," sentby one of the large missionary7 societies to arouse the indifferent toa sense of duty towards their unconverted black brethren in Africa,and incidentally to collect cash to be spent in the conversion8 of thesaid brethren. The Rev. Thomas Owen himself suggested the visit of theDeputation, and had laboured hard to secure him a good audience. Butthe beauty of the weather, or terror of the inevitable9 subscription,prevailed against him. Hence his disappointment.
"Well," he thought, with a sigh, "I have done my best, and I must makeit up out of my own pocket."Then he settled himself to listen to the sermon.
The preacher, a battered-looking individual of between fifty and sixtyyears of age, was gaunt with recent sickness, patient andunimaginative in aspect. He preached extemporarily, with the aid ofnotes; and it cannot be said that his discourse10 was remarkable11 forinterest, at any rate in its beginning. Doubtless the sparsecongregation, so prone12 to slumber13, discouraged him; for offeringexhortations to empty benches is but weary work. Indeed he wasmeditating the advisability of bringing his argument to an abruptconclusion when, chancing to glance round, he became aware that he hadat least one sympathetic listener, his host, the Rev. Thomas Owen.
From that moment the sermon improved by degrees, till at length itreached a really high level of excellence14. Ceasing from rhetoric15, thespeaker began to tell of his own experience and sufferings in theCause amongst savage16 tribes; for he himself was a missionary of manyyears standing17. He told how once he and a companion had been sent to anation, who named themselves the Sons of Fire because their god wasthe lightning, if indeed they could be said to boast any gods otherthan the Spear and the King. In simple language he narrated18 histerrible adventures among these savages19, the murder of his companionby command of the Council of Wizards, and his own flight for his life;a tale so interesting and vivid that even the bucolic20 sleepersawakened and listened open-mouthed.
"But this is by the way," he went on; "for my Society does not ask youto subscribe21 towards the conversion of the Children of Fire. Untilthat people is conquered--which very likely will not be forgenerations, seeing that they live in Central Africa, occupying aterritory that white men do not desire--no missionary will dare againto visit them."At this moment something caused him to look a second time at ThomasOwen. He was leaning forward in his place listening eagerly, and astrange light filled the large, dark eyes that shone in the pallor ofhis delicate, nervous face.
"There is a man who would dare, if he were put to it," thought theDeputation to himself. Then he ended his sermon.
That evening the two men sat at dinner in the rectory. It was a veryfine rectory, beautifully furnished; for Owen was a man of taste whichhe had the means to gratify. Also, although they were alone, thedinner was good--so good that the poor broken-down missionary, sippinghis unaccustomed port, a vintage wine, sighed aloud in admiration22 andinvoluntary envy.
"What is the matter?" asked Owen.
"Nothing, Mr. Owen;" then, of a sudden thawing23 into candour, he added:
"that is, everything. Heaven forgive me; but I, who enjoy yourhospitality, am envious24 of you. Don't think too hardly of me; I have alarge family to support, and if only you knew what a struggle my lifeis, and has been for the last twenty years, you would not, I am sure.
But you have never experienced it, and could not understand. 'Thelabourer is worthy25 of his hire.' Well, my hire is under two hundred ayear, and eight of us must live--or starve--on it. And I have worked,ay, until my health is broken. A labourer indeed! I am a very hodman,a spiritual Sisyphus. And now I must go back to carry my load and rollmy stone again and again among those hopeless savages till I die of it--till I die of it!""At least it is a noble life and death!" exclaimed Owen, a sudden fireof enthusiasm burning in his dark eyes.
"Yes, viewed from a distance. Were you asked to leave this living oftwo thousand a year--I see that is what they put it at in Crockford--with its English comforts and easy work, that /you/ might lead thatlife and attain26 that death, then you would think differently. But whyshould I bore you with such talk? Thank Heaven that your lines arecast in pleasant places. Yes, please, I will take one more glass; itdoes me good.""Tell me some more about that tribe you were speaking of in yoursermon, the 'Sons of Fire' I think you called them," said Owen, as hepassed him the decanter.
So, with an eloquence27 induced by the generous wine and a quickenedimagination, the Deputation told him--told him many strange things andterrible. For this people was an awful people: vigorous in mind andbody, and warriors28 from generation to generation, but superstition-ridden and cruel. They lived in the far interior, some months' journeyby boat and ox-waggon from the coast, and of white men and their waysthey knew but little.
"How many of them are there?" asked Owen.
"Who can say?" he answered. "Nearly half-a-million, perhaps; at leastthey pretend that they can put sixty thousand men under arms.""And did they treat you badly when you first visited them?""Not at first. They received us civilly enough; and on a given day wewere requested to explain to the king and the Council of Wizards thereligion which we came to teach. All that day we explained and all thenext--or rather my friend did, for I knew very little of the language--and they listened with great interest. At last the chief of thewizards and the first prophet to the king rose to question us. He wasnamed Hokosa, a tall, thin man, with a spiritual face and terriblecalm eyes.
"'You speak well, son of a White Man,' he said, 'but let us pass fromwords to deeds. You tell us that this God of yours, whom you desirethat we should take as our God, so that you may become His chiefprophets in the land, was a wizard such as we are, though grater thanwe are; for not only did He know the past and the future as we do, butalso He could cure those who were smitten29 with hopeless sickness, andraise those who were dead, which we cannot do. You tell us, moreover,that by faith those who believe on Him can do works as great as Hedid, and that you do believe on Him. Therefore we will put you to theproof. Ho! there, lead forth30 that evil one.'
"As he spoke31 a man was placed before us, one who had been convicted ofwitchcraft or some other crime.
"'Kill him!' said Hokosa.
"There was a faint cry, a scuffle, a flashing of spears, and the manlay still before us.
"'Now, followers32 of the new God,' said Hokosa, 'raise him from thedead as your Master did!'
"In vain did we offer explanations.
"'Peace!' said Hokosa at length, 'your words weary us. Look now,either you have preached to us a false god and are liars33, or you aretraitors to the King you preach, since, lacking faith in Him, youcannot do such works as He gives power to do to those who have faithin Him. Out of your own mouths are you judged, White Men. Choose whichhorn of the bull you will, you hang to one of them, and it shallpierce you. This is the sentence of the king, I speak it who am theking's mouth: That you, White Man, who have spoken to us and cheatedus these two weary days, be put to death, and that you, his companionwho have been silent, be driven from the land.'
"I can hardly bear to tell the rest of it, Mr. Owen. They gave my poorfriend ten minutes to 'talk to his Spirit,' then they speared himbefore my face. After it was over, Hokosa spoke to me, saying:--"'Go back, White Man, to those who sent you, and tell them the wordsof the Sons of Fire: That they have listened to the message of peace,and though they are a people of warriors, yet they thank them for thatmessage, for in itself it sounds good and beautiful in their ears, ifit be true. Tell them that having proved you liars, they dealt withyou as all honest men seek that liars should be dealt with. Tell themthat they desire to hear more of this matter, and if one can be sentto them who has no false tongue; who in all things fulfills34 thepromises of his lips, that they will hearken to him and treat himwell, but that for such as you they keep a spear.'""And who went after you got back?" asked Owen, who was listening withthe deepest interest.
"Who went? Do you suppose that there are many mad clergymen in Africa,Mr. Owen? Nobody went.""And yet," said Owen, speaking more to himself than to his guest, "theman Hokosa was right, and the Christian35 who of a truth believes thepromises of our religion should trust to them and go.""Then perhaps you would like to undertake the mission, Mr. Owen," saidthe Deputation briskly; for the reflection stung him, unintentional asit was.
Owen started.
"That is a new idea," he said. "And now perhaps you wish to go to bed;it is past eleven o'clock."
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wring
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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remarkable
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prone
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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bucolic
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| adj.乡村的；牧羊的 | |
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subscribe
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| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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thawing
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| n.熔化，融化v.（气候）解冻( thaw的现在分词 )；（态度、感情等）缓和；（冰、雪及冷冻食物）溶化；软化 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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fulfills
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| v.履行（诺言等）( fulfill的第三人称单数 )；执行（命令等）；达到（目的）；使结束 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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