That whole scene comes out clearly for me in memory—the arc of primrose5 sky over the trees behind the old house, the fruit-laden boughs6 of the orchard, the bank of golden-rod, like a wave of sunshine, behind the Pulpit Stone, the nameless colour seen on a fir wood in a ruddy sunset. I can see Uncle Alec's tired, brilliant, blue eyes, Aunt Janet's wholesome7, matronly face, Uncle Roger's sweeping8 blond beard and red cheeks, and Aunt Olivia's full-blown beauty. Two voices ring out for me above all others in the music that echoes through the halls of recollection. Cecily's sweet and silvery, and Uncle Alec's fine tenor9. "If you're a King, you sing," was a Carlisle proverb in those days. Aunt Julia had been the flower of the flock in that respect and had become a noted10 concert singer. The world had never heard of the rest. Their music echoed only along the hidden ways of life, and served but to lighten the cares of the trivial round and common task.
That evening, after they tired of singing, our grown-ups began talking of their youthful days and doings.
This was always a keen delight to us small fry. We listened avidly11 to the tales of our uncles and aunts in the days when they, too—hard fact to realize—had been children. Good and proper as they were now, once, so it seemed, they had gotten into mischief12 and even had their quarrels and disagreements. On this particular evening Uncle Roger told many stories of Uncle Edward, and one in which the said Edward had preached sermons at the mature age of ten from the Pulpit Stone fired, as the sequel will show, the Story Girl's imagination.
"Can't I just see him at it now," said Uncle Roger, "leaning over that old boulder13, his cheeks red and his eyes burning with excitement, banging the top of it as he had seen the ministers do in church. It wasn't cushioned, however, and he always bruised14 his hands in his self-forgetful earnestness. We thought him a regular wonder. We loved to hear him preach, but we didn't like to hear him pray, because he always insisted on praying for each of us by name, and it made us feel wretchedly uncomfortable, somehow. Alec, do you remember how furious Julia was because Edward prayed one day that she might be preserved from vanity and conceit15 over her singing?"
"I should think I do," laughed Uncle Alec. "She was sitting right there where Cecily is now, and she got up at once and marched right out of the orchard, but at the gate she turned to call back indignantly, 'I guess you'd better wait till you've prayed the conceit out of yourself before you begin on me, Ned King. I never heard such stuck-up sermons as you preach.' Ned went on praying and never let on he heard her, but at the end of his prayer he wound up with 'Oh, God, I pray you to keep an eye on us all, but I pray you to pay particular attention to my sister Julia, for I think she needs it even more than the rest of us, world without end, Amen.'"
Our uncles roared with laughter over the recollection. We all laughed, indeed, especially over another tale in which Uncle Edward, leaning too far over the "pulpit" in his earnestness, lost his balance altogether and tumbled ingloriously into the grass below.
"He lit on a big Scotch16 thistle," said Uncle Roger, chuckling17, "and besides that, he skinned his forehead on a stone. But he was determined18 to finish his sermon, and finish it he did. He climbed back into the pulpit, with the tears rolling over his cheeks, and preached for ten minutes longer, with sobs19 in his voice and drops of blood on his forehead. He was a plucky20 little beggar. No wonder he succeeded in life."
"And his sermons and prayers were always just about as outspoken21 as those Julia objected to," said Uncle Alec. "Well, we're all getting on in life and Edward is gray; but when I think of him I always see him a little, rosy22, curly-headed chap, laying down the law to us from the Pulpit Stone. It seems like the other day that we were all here together, just as these children are, and now we are scattered23 everywhere. Julia in California, Edward in Halifax, Alan in South America, Felix and Felicity and Stephen gone to the land that is very far off."
There was a little space of silence; and then Uncle Alec began, in a low, impressive voice, to repeat the wonderful verses of the ninetieth Psalm—verses which were thenceforth bound up for us with the beauty of that night and the memories of our kindred. Very reverently25 we all listened to the majestic26 words.
"Lord, thou hast been our dwelling27 place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth24, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting28 to everlasting thou art God…. For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night…. For all our days are passed away in thy wrath29; we spend our years as a tale that is told. The days of our years are threescore and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years yet is their strength, labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off and we fly away…. So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom…. Oh, satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days…. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us; and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it."
The dusk crept into the orchard like a dim, bewitching personality. You could see her—feel her—hear her. She tiptoed softly from tree to tree, ever drawing nearer. Presently her filmy wings hovered30 over us and through them gleamed the early stars of the autumn night.
The grown-ups rose reluctantly and strolled away; but we children lingered for a moment to talk over an idea the Story Girl broached—a good idea, we thought enthusiastically, and one that promised to add considerable spice to life.
We were on the lookout31 for some new amusement. Dream books had begun to pall32. We no longer wrote in them very regularly, and our dreams were not what they used to be before the mischance of the cucumber. So the Story Girl's suggestion came pat to the psychological moment.
'I've thought of a splendid plan," she said. "It just flashed into my mind when the uncles were talking about Uncle Edward. And the beauty of it is we can play it on Sundays, and you know there are so few things it is proper to play on Sundays. But this is a Christian33 game, so it will be all right."
"It isn't like the religious fruit basket game, is it?" asked
Cecily anxiously.
We had good reason to hope that it wasn't. One desperate Sunday afternoon, when we had nothing to read and the time seemed endless, Felix had suggested that we have a game of fruit-basket; only instead of taking the names of fruits, we were to take the names of Bible characters. This, he argued, would make it quite lawful34 and proper to play on Sunday. We, too desirous of being convinced, also thought so; and for a merry hour Lazarus and Martha and Moses and Aaron and sundry35 other worthies36 of Holy Writ37 had a lively time of it in the King orchard. Peter having a Scriptural name of his own, did not want to take another; but we would not allow this, because it would give him an unfair advantage over the rest of us. It would be so much easier to call out your own name than fit your tongue to an unfamiliar38 one. So Peter retaliated39 by choosing Nebuchadnezzar, which no one could ever utter three times before Peter shrieked40 it out once.
In the midst of our hilarity41, however, Uncle Alec and Aunt Janet came down upon us. It is best to draw a veil over what followed. Suffice it to say that the recollection gave point to Cecily's question.
"No, it isn't that sort of game at all," said the Story Girl. "It is this; each of you boys must preach a sermon, as Uncle Edward used to do. One of you next Sunday, and another the next, and so on. And whoever preaches the best sermon is to get a prize."
Peter, Felix and I thought the suggestion a very good one.
Secretly, I believed I could cut quite a fine figure preaching a
sermon.
"Who'll give the prize?" asked Felix.
"I will," said the Story Girl. "I'll give that picture father sent me last week."
As the said picture was an excellent copy of one of Landseer's stags, Felix and I were well pleased; but Peter averred43 that he would rather have the Madonna that looked like his Aunt Jane, and the Story Girl agreed that if his sermon was the best she would give him that.
"But who's to be the judge?" I said, "and what kind of a sermon would you call the best?"
"The one that makes the most impression," answered the Story Girl promptly. "And we girls must be the judges, because there's nobody else. Now, who is to preach next Sunday?"
It was decided44 that I should lead off, and I lay awake for an extra hour that night thinking what text I should take for the following Sunday. The next day I bought two sheets of foolscap from the schoolmaster, and after tea I betook myself to the granary, barred the door, and fell to writing my sermon. I did not find it as easy a task as I had anticipated; but I pegged45 grimly away at it, and by dint46 of severe labour for two evenings I eventually got my four pages of foolscap filled, although I had to pad the subject-matter not a little with verses of quotable hymns. I had decided to preach on missions, as being a topic more within my grasp than abstruse47 theological doctrines48 or evangelical discourses49; and, mindful of the need of making an impression, I drew a harrowing picture of the miserable50 plight51 of the heathen who in their darkness bowed down to wood and stone. Then I urged our responsibility concerning them, and meant to wind up by reciting, in a very solemn and earnest voice, the verse beginning, "Can we whose souls are lighted." When I had completed my sermon I went over it very carefully again and wrote with red ink—Cecily made it for me out of an aniline dye—the word "thump52" wherever I deemed it advisable to chastise53 the pulpit.
I have that sermon still, all its red thumps54 unfaded, lying beside my dream book; but I am not going to inflict55 it on my readers. I am not so proud of it as I once was. I was really puffed56 up with earthly vanity over it at that time. Felix, I thought, would be hard put to it to beat it. As for Peter, I did not consider him a rival to be feared. It was unsupposable that a hired boy, with little education and less experience of church-going, should be able to preach better than could I, in whose family there was a real minister.
The sermon written, the next thing was to learn it off by heart and then practise it, thumps included, until I was letter and gesture perfect. I preached it over several times in the granary with only Paddy, sitting immovably on a puncheon, for audience. Paddy stood the test fairly well. At least, he made an adorable listener, save at such times as imaginary rats distracted his attention.
Mr. Marwood had at least three absorbed listeners the next Sunday morning. Felix, Peter and I were all among the chiels who were taking mental notes on the art of preaching a sermon. Not a motion, or glance, or intonation57 escaped us. To be sure, none of us could remember the text when we got home; but we knew just how you should throw back your head and clutch the edge of the pulpit with both hands when you announced it.
In the afternoon we all repaired to the orchard, Bibles and hymn3 books in hand. We did not think it necessary to inform the grown-ups of what was in the wind. You could never tell what kink a grown-up would take. They might not think it proper to play any sort of a game on Sunday, not even a Christian game. Least said was soonest mended where grown-ups were concerned.
I mounted the pulpit steps, feeling rather nervous, and my audience sat gravely down on the grass before me. Our opening exercises consisted solely58 of singing and reading. We had agreed to omit prayer. Neither Felix, Peter nor I felt equal to praying in public. But we took up a collection. The proceeds were to go to missions. Dan passed the plate—Felicity's rosebud59 plate— looking as preternaturally solemn as Elder Frewen himself. Every one put a cent on it.
Well, I preached my sermon. And it fell horribly flat. I realized that, before I was half way through it. I think I preached it very well; and never a thump did I forget or misplace. But my audience was plainly bored. When I stepped down from the pulpit, after demanding passionately60 if we whose souls were lighted and so forth, I felt with secret humiliation61 that my sermon was a failure. It had made no impression at all. Felix would be sure to get the prize.
"That was a very good sermon for a first attempt," said the Story Girl graciously. "It sounded just like real sermons I have heard."
For a moment the charm of her voice made me feel that I had not done so badly after all; but the other girls, thinking it their duty to pay me some sort of a compliment also, quickly dispelled62 that pleasing delusion63.
"Every word of it was true," said Cecily, her tone unconsciously implying that this was its sole merit.
"I often feel," said Felicity primly64, "that we don't think enough about the heathens. We ought to think a great deal more."
Sara Ray put the finishing touch to my mortification65.
"It was so nice and short," she said.
"What was the matter with my sermon?" I asked Dan that night. Since he was neither judge nor competitor I could discuss the matter with him.
"It was too much like a reg'lar sermon to be interesting," said
"I should think the more like a regular sermon it was, the better," I said.
"Not if you want to make an impression," said Dan seriously.
"You must have something sort of different for that. Peter, now,
HE'LL have something different."
"Oh, Peter! I don't believe he can preach a sermon," I said.
"Maybe not, but you'll see he'll make an impression," said Dan.
Dan was neither the prophet nor the son of a prophet, but he had the second sight for once; Peter DID make an impression.
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1
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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4
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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7
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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8
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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9
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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13
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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14
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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15
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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16
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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17
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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18
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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19
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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20
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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21
outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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22
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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23
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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24
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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26
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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28
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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29
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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30
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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31
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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32
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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33
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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34
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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36
worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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37
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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38
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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39
retaliated
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| v.报复，反击( retaliate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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42
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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43
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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44
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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45
pegged
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| v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的过去式和过去分词 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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46
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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47
abstruse
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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48
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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49
discourses
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| 论文( discourse的名词复数 )； 演说； 讲道； 话语 | |
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50
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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51
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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52
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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53
chastise
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| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
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54
thumps
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| n.猪肺病；砰的重击声( thump的名词复数 )v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的第三人称单数 ) | |
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55
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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56
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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57
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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58
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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59
rosebud
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| n.蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女 | |
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60
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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61
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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62
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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64
primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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65
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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66
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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