Chapter V: How Farmer Vance Reasoned

“And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment
to come, Felix trembled.”

Mr. Vance was to take the new class in Sabbath School. He declared it was the most absurd thing ever thought of, but Mr. Sampson insisted. He knew the farmer to be a well-read man, and that, although but a learner himself in Bible lore, he had that quick, keen, sympathetic grasp of human nature which enables one to attract and influence others. Only Will Carter objected. He had supposed Mr. Sampson would take the class himself. What could Farmer Vance, who had only recently begun to attend church, teach a boy well versed in algebra, geometry, and all the ’ologies? Will made extra preparations for that first Sabbath, studied up on Biblical history, primed himself with contemporary events, and fully expected to utterly confound the plain farmer at the outset.

The latter had his hands full, to say the least,—what with the factory boys, to whom everything was new and strange; Tom and his set, who meant to have a good time out of it; stupid Bill Finnegan, indifferent Varney Lowe, and wise Will Carter,—but his ready tact, a suggestion here, an illustration there, a hand upon Jack Mullin’s knee when the latter’s risibles threatened to become unmanageable, a quiet deferring to Will’s gratuitous information, all together, maintained at least a show of interest and order. Very plainly, however, he considered contemporary events of minor importance. Will secretly chafed at the way everything drifted round to the one first, foremost thought,—Christ and Him crucified. Heretofore he had always been able to dodge the practical questions, but Mr. Vance made them all practical. The lesson was in the twenty-sixth chapter of Second Chronicles,—

“_Sixteen years old was Uzziah when he began to reign._”

“Just a year older than Dick and Will,—and only think how much more he knew!” said Robert Rand, so honestly even Mr. Vance smiled.

“Was knowing so much the cause of his prosperity, Robert? Read the fifth verse.”

“_As long as he sought the Lord, God made him to prosper._”

“Do you suppose the Jews invented the engines of war mentioned in the fifteenth verse?” interrupted Will.

“Possibly.”

“It seems we made a mistake when we named our Base Ball Club. It’s the Catapulta, you know; but the catapultæ were used for casting _darts_, and the balistæ for _stones_. Sometimes the stones weighed three hundred pounds. Rather awkward things, compared with weapons of war now.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Vance. “Men have spent a great deal of money and genius to perfect the art of killing each other. But some day—”

“Josephus says,” interposed Will, “that engines of this sort were used with tremendous effect in the siege of Jerusalem by the Romans. They would discharge stones to the distance of two furlongs. There was an elastic bar, you see, bent back by a screw or cable, with a trigger to set it free, and a sort of spoon towards the top to fling the stones. At the siege of Jotapa, they were sent with such force as to break down the battlements and carry away the angles of the towers. Both sides used them at the siege of Jerusalem.”

Here Tom Lawrence puckered up his mouth and rolled his eyes around in such mock amazement that a broad smile over-spread Bill Finnegan’s freckled face, and Jack Mullin giggled outright.

“The main point was, which side used them with the greatest effect,” said Mr. Vance, who had read Josephus thoroughly, but who had quite another thing in his mind. “By the way, Jack,” and he turned suddenly to that young scapegrace who was slyly slipping a bent pin in Will’s direction,—“I saw an enemy slinging stones, or something worse, at you the other day, and you not doing the first thing in self-defence.”

“Who?—me!—what?” stammered Jack. “Reckon there don’t nobody fire stones at this chap and not get as good as they send.”

“Yes, there’s an enemy who must have machines something like those Will has described. He begins with very small stones. You wouldn’t really think _Satan_ had anything to do with that little game of ‘toss-up’ you and Tom were having. He flings very little sins at first,—just a bad thought, a wrong desire,—and we think it’s all fun; but by and by there comes a three-hundred-pounder and takes men right off their feet, puts them in state-prison, or sends them to the gallows. We need something to hurl back in self-defence, you see. Do you remember what telling shots Christ sent against the tempter on that high mountain? _Bible truth!_ That’s what you want for ammunition, boys. Have plenty of that, keep close to your great Captain, and you are safe. Uzziah forgot that last part. Dick, tell in your own words what happened to him.”

“He grew proud as he grew great, and insisted on burning incense, which only the priest had a right to do, and God sent leprosy upon him.”

“Josephus says,” put in Will, “that there was an earthquake just at that moment, and a rent made in the temple through which the sun shone upon Uzziah’s face, and he was immediately struck with leprosy.”

“That should remind us of the day of judgment,” rejoined Mr. Vance, solemnly. “Then all the earth shall be shaken, and Christ, the Judge, shall sit upon His throne, the brightness of His glory far exceeding the sun; and in that clear light all who have not been washed in the blood of the Lamb will be shown covered with the dreadful leprosy of sin. It says of Uzziah not only that the priests thrust him out of the temple as unclean, but that he himself ‘hastened to go out,’ he was so ashamed and confounded. Just so sinners in that dreadful day will call on the rocks and mountains to fall on them and hide them. Will you, my boys, be of that number who must go away _forever_ from the presence of the Lord?”

The superintendent’s bell announced the closing exercises, and then the boys rushed noisily out.

“Every word forgotten already,” thought Mr. Vance, watching Tom and Jack go whistling down the street.

“What does make our Will so uneasy?” his mother said that night, as the former sat down to read, first on the doorstep, then in the garden, in the parlor, and lastly in his own room.

_She_ couldn’t hear the cricket, the bees, even the clock, saying over and over, “Shut out of heaven _forever_! Shut out of heaven _forever_,—_forever_,—_forever_.”