University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

As the Captain concluded his eccentric oration,
rather from want of breath than because he lacked
the will to continue it, a sonorous voice, very
manly and agreeable, save that it had a strong
nasal twang, was heard pronouncing hard by,
with solemn emphasis, the words from the Apocalypse,—

“ `And I looked, and behold, a pale horse: and
his name that sat on him was Death, and hell followed
with him. And power was given unto them
over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with the
sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with
the beasts of the earth.' ”

Startled at an interruption so unexpected, both
looked round at the first sound of the voice, and
even Elsie Bell woke from the trance into which
the Captain's news had plunged her, to gaze as
eagerly as the others after the cause. As they
directed their eyes towards the entrance of the
little oak-shaded yard, they saw, turning into it
from the road, and slowly riding towards them,
an apparition that might almost have been supposed
by a profane imagination to imbody the
conception of the grisly terror. It was a tall man
in black raiment, riding an old gray horse, very
meager and raw-boned, which moved with a step

so slow and drowsy, as to oppose no obstruction
to the meditations of the rider, who held a book in
his hand, from which he read the words that followed
so ominously after the burst of the Captain.
He seemed so inwrapt in his study as to be unconscious
of the presence of strangers, having
apparently yielded up the guidance of his course
to the animal he bestrode; and as he drew nigh to
the porch, still pronouncing the words, the first
one of which had attracted their attention, all had
an opportunity of gazing on him at leisure. He
was a tall man, as has been said, being somewhat
gaunt and thin in the lower part of his body, though
his shoulders were broad and square. His joints
were large and bony, and his hands and feet were
any thing in the world but fairy-like. His neck
was long and scraggy, his face of a cadaverous
hue and lantern-jawed, and long locks of straight
black hair, a little grizzled, fell from beneath an
old cocked-hat, the brim of which was inclined to
go slouching along with them, towards his shoulders.
His coat was of black velvet, worn and
soiled, and indeed extremely shabby, and so long,
that, as he rode, the wide skirts almost concealed
his saddle-bags and flapped about his heels; the
collar was straight and short, and its place was supplied
by a red bandanna handkerchief, which was
twisted round his throat in a thong like a cable.

He continued to read aloud, until his horse suddenly
paused before the porch; then lifting up his
eyes, and closing the book, he bestowed a gracious
stare upon the party, that had well nigh converted
the painter's admiration into merriment, it was so
extravagantly grave and sanctimonious. It dispelled
also some of the reverence with which the
soldier was beginning to regard him; and recurring
suddenly to the objects which had brought
him to the Traveller's Rest, Captain Loring hobbled

up to the saintly apparition, advanced his
hand to seize upon the bridle rein, and was just
saluting him with a “Harkee, Mister, whoever
you are,—being a stranger, you must give an account
of yourself,”—when the worthy personage,
rolling his eyes once more over the party, and
then directing them to heaven, opened his mouth,
and again lifted up his voice.

“Fellow sinners!” said he, with as much zeal as
emphasis, seeming to consider that he had found
a congregation in great need of his exhortations,
“you have heard the words of the book: `And I
looked, and behold, a pale horse; and his name
that sat on him was Death, and hell followed with
him.' Death comes on the pale horse, and hell follows
at his heels! Listen to what I have to say,
and let your souls that are a-hungering, open their
mouths and be satisfied. He that has ears to
hear”—

“Is an ass!” cried Captain Loring, interrupting
him without ceremony. “Come, you fanatical
fool, none of your babble and sermonizing here of
a week-day; but answer my questions.”

“Will you rail upon the Lord's anointed? will
you do violence to my holy vocation?” cried the
preacher, hotly. “Get thee behind me, Satan! If
thou wilt not profit by the unction of truth, shut
thy mouth and get thee away, that others may not
backslide after thee. Anathema upon thee! anathema
baranathema! If thou stoppest the flood of
the sweet waters that are ready to fall upon the
thirsty-spirited, I say to thee, Anathema! Lo and
behold! I am sent upon a mission, and the spirit
waxes strong within me, so that I will wrestle with
thee and prevail. Am not I he that is sent to scatter
the good seed by the way-side? and art thou
not a bush of thorns, that chokes up the grain ere
it reaches the soil, or the rock that has no soil to

receive it? I will preach the devil out of thee, I
warrant thee, thou most antique sinner; for what
says the word”—

“Harkee, friend methodist, or whatever you
are,” said Captain Loring, not a whit abashed by
the violent zeal with which the fanatic prolonged
this remonstrance, “it is not in my way to insult
the cloth, all chaplains being non-combatants.
But, hark ye, sir, adzooks, I don't believe you are
a preacher at all, but a rogue in another man's
feathers; and if you don't satisfy my mind, I will
arrest you on suspicion of being a rascal, I will by
the lord! and that's as true as any Scripture.
And do you, you Harper What-d'ye-call-it,” (turning
to the painter,) “hand me my pistol, and hold
him by the leg; and you, Dick! club your whip,
and stand by to knock him off his horse; and you,
Elsie, come forward for a witness; for I believe
the dog's a Gilbert. Surrender, you villain, and
give an account of yourself!”

Great was the confusion of the exhorting stranger,
at finding he had lighted upon a zealot, of fire
so much superior to his own, and a congregation
so little disposed to bow down to his ministry; and
great was the inclination of Herman Hunter to enjoy
a rencounter betwixt two such antagonists, and
even to add to its absurdities, by taking part with
the Captain against a man who, whatever was his
apparent sanctity, he was persuaded, was nothing
more than a low and vulgar hypocrite. However,
perceiving that the latter worthy, besides
being greatly alarmed, was clubbing his bible as if
weighing the propriety of employing all its arguments
and exhortations together, in one fell swoop
against the head of his irreligious captor, his
humanity and love of peace drove the young man
betwixt the eccentric pair, as a moderator and
umpire.

“Stop, Captain,” said he; “this mode of questioning
is against the law; and you, reverend
stranger, hearken to me. Being a man of religion
and peace, and doubtless good sense and good
manners, you can do nothing more than answer a
civil question; which will save you the trouble of a
ride, or drive, according to circumstances, to the
nearest magistrate.”

“Magistrate!” cried the preacher, blankly,
“what have the servants of truth to do with a
magistrate?”

“Yes, magistrate,” blustered the soldier; “and
then, adzooks, perhaps to the hangman afterwards.”

“In a word, sir,” said Herman, “there has been
a murder attempted; though where, when, and
how, I do not pretend to know; and this being a
land where suspicion is somewhat capricious and
even whimsical, you will see the necessity of
doing as I myself have done but a moment before
you;—that is, of declaring your name and business
to this gentleman.”

“Name, gentlemen! business, gentlemen!—Certainly,
gentlemen,—certainly, fellow christians and
sinners!” cried the preacher, recovering his equanimity,
which had somewhat deserted him, and becoming
ten times more nasal and sanctified than
before. “I am a poor servant of the word, an
expounder of the book, Nehemiah by name,—
which is to say, Nehemiah Poke,—an humble
labourer in the vineyard of sin—that is to say,
of righteousness—and a warner and crier-out on
the way-side, by the side of the great road that
leadeth to the place of despair, and of wailing, and
of gnashing of teeth. You put your scorns upon
me, men of the world, and sons of a stiff-necked
generation; you spit in my face, you strike me
over the mouth, and you take me by the beard,

crying, `Get up, you bald-head.' But he will
reckon with you, who goeth about like a roaring
lion, seeking whom he may devour. Open therefore
your ears, and repent you, lest he who comes
on the pale horse, with hell after him, shall fall
upon you in your pride, and twist your necks, as
you twist off a quid of tobacco from the roll. I
come to the house of the good widow, for such, say
the men of the world, is the widow Bell. I design
to eat and refresh me with sleep; and then crossing
over the river that lies in my path, wend my
way to the scorners of truth, that are thick among
the men of blood in the army; for among them,
Death on the pale horse is ever ramping and
roaring. But I see, that wickedness is here, even
here, in this `desert idle,' as it is written: I will
therefore tarry awhile, and expound to you the
words of comfort, and that before I eat and sleep,
lest you fall and perish before the morning. Rest
a moment then, irreverent and headstrong old
man, and I will wrestle with the devil that is in
thee. For I forgive thee, and will arouse thee with
an exhortation, strong and fiery, `fierce as ten furies,
terrible as night,' according to the expression.
Listen, therefore, to the words of my text: `And
I looked, and behold.'—And behold! the sinner
rolleth away in his pride, rejecting the word! But
he of the pale horse runneth after, even in the dust
of his chariot wheels, shaking destruction from his
shoulders, even as `dew-drops from the lion's
mane,' as it is written. Young man, give me thy
hand, that I may descend; and widow, peace be to
thy house, and comfort in the midst of thy poverty.
He who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, as
the word has it, and marks even when a sparrow
falls to the ground, will not turn from thine humble
tenement, when its door is open to the weary pilgrim,
and its porch resounds with the cry of
prayer and thanksgiving.”

“Mr. Nehemiah Poke,” said Herman, who
gave his hand, as required, to the pilgrim, and
assisted him to descend, “you perceive, that your
exhortations have driven away one-third of the
congregation.”—Captain Loring had been fully
satisfied with the explanations of Mr. Poke, or
alarmed at the prospect of a sermon; and while
the preacher was kindling into fervour, had suddenly
slipped into the carriage, and in a moment
rumbled furiously away.—“You perceive that
your sanctity has driven away one auditor, and
confounded another,—Mrs. Bell here being in a
maze. Now know, likewise, that I, the remaining
third, have no need of your edifying discourses,
and request you to put an end to them.”

This was said with a good-natured smile, and a
knowing nod, which somewhat disconcerted the
preacher. However, after staring at the youth
awhile, he lifted up his eyes, hands, and voice
together, saying,

“Are you a scorner of the word, then, in your
early and tender youth? and will you shut your
ears and harden your heart against the grace that
is offered, even by my unworthy lips!”

“Even against all that can come from your unworthy
lips, as you very properly term them,”
said the painter, with the most significant countenance
in the world; “and to make you easy on
that score, do me the favour to believe that I have
studied Milton, Shakspeare, Sterne, and the Bible,
so much more closely than yourself, that I never
jumble them together, nor fail to perceive when
another man does so. Do you understand me?”

“Truly not,” said the preacher, with a somewhat
humorous stare; “but out of the mouths of
babes and sucklings we are sometimes wisely admonished.

I perceive, that I have fallen among
thieves—that is to say, among sinners; and that
they are none the better, but much the worse, for
any comfortable wisdom that is offered them.
Therefore, I will hold my peace, lest the devil
should be aggravated in your bosom; hoping that
a better hour may be shown me, in which to warn
you of the wickedness of your ways, and so pluck
you as a brand out of the burning. Good woman,”
he continued, turning to Elsie, and speaking much
better sense than before, “know, that by reason
of thy poverty and widowhood, I have brought me
lucre of silver and paper—that is to say, dollars
both hard and soft—to reward thee for thy hospitality;
and that I come, not like a thief and a man
of war, to prey upon thy substance, and leave thee
nothing in return; but as a guest, in the worldly
sense, who will pay scot and lot, as the word is,
without grumbling.”

“Such as I have, you shall share,” said Elsie,
coldly, “whether you have gold or not, provided
you will take the young gentleman's advice, and
exhort no longer in my house.”

“Woman,” said Nehemiah, “let me not think
that a devil has seized upon you, as well as the
others. Shall wisdom cry aloud, not in the streets
but at your house-door, and you regard it no more
than the scoffers? I tell you, and I charge you
to hear”—

“Softly, Mr. Poke,” said Herman. “Remember
your promise to hold your peace. That scrap
from Sir John, though it smacks of a better origin,
is of as clear an one as the others. Read your
Bible, man, for a day or two more, and learn your
trade better.”

“Young man,” said the preacher, again somewhat
abashed, but with a stern voice, “you talk
like one of the ignorant”—

“Groundlings!” said the other, laying a ludicrous
stress upon the word. “ `Thy face is
valanced since I saw thee last!'—Does that come
out of Habakkuk? If you will preach, why here
fate sends you another auditor, in the form of another
patron to the Traveller's Rest! As for myself,
I am tired not only of your homilies, but your
company; and I pray you, for our own two sakes,
that you cross the river before supper. The
sooner the better, I assure you; for though at
present the `rack' may `stand still,' `the bold
wind' be

and scatter Jackdaws, along with the owls and
pigeons. Fare you well, `Sir Topas, the Curate!'
—`I am one of those gentle ones that will use the
devil himself with courtesy'—I leave you to the
pedler there, who may be of a better temper for
conversation. `Bones dies, Sir Topas!' ”

And with these words, and laughing heartily, as
at some jest perfectly well understood by Nehemiah,
he left the porch, only looking once behind
him, as the preacher stood regarding him with uplifted
hands, and bursting into a second peal as he
looked. He raised his eyes, nodding courteously
to the new comer, whom he had justly characterized
as a pedler—for so he seemed, having a pack
strapped to his back, though riding a strong black
horse. “Good luck for poor Elsie to-day!” he
muttered to himself, as if even diverted by so slight
a circumstance as the unusual windfall of patronage.
“I thought I could not be mistaken in the
rogue's lantern-jaws and huge hands; and I doubt
me, his religion is a mere cloak, put on for a purpose;
though I have heard of such conversions
before. However, honest or not, a fool or a scoundrel,

a saint or a hypocrite, it is certain he can do
me no mischief; and I'll see he does none to Elsie.
As for others, they must take their chances.”

Thus reflecting, and amusing himself with his
cogitations, he made his way, though apparently
without design or object, along the road, until he
had passed the park-gate of Gilbert's Folly, and
reached the rivulet described before, as emptying
into the river at the mouth of the ravine, on which
the Traveller's Rest was built. Although shallow
and of a smooth bottom, where it crossed the road,
there were rocks lying in its bed both above and
below; and he could hear a murmuring noise
among the trees that overshadowed it above, as if
it made a cascade at no great distance in that direction.
He had no doubt that, by leaving the
road, he was trespassing upon the manor; but
having no fear of intruding upon the haunts of any
of its habitants, and being moved by a painter's
curiosity, he did not hesitate to clamber over the
rude stone wall, and dive at once into the shadowy
grove bordering the stream.