Democratic Sentinel, Volume 13, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 August 1889 — THE PREACHER’S STORY; OR The Tale of a Pet Cat. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE PREACHER’S STORY; OR The Tale of a Pet Cat.

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON WINTHROP

| AM glad to see you | after your vacation.” jf “I trust you enjoyed ■the holiday recess to ■the fullest,” was the ■reply. B The s e salutations ■passed between two (college students as they

first met at the close of the holiday vacation. The young men, Wilbur Grant and John Collins, were typical students of the period. They were toiling without means at their command to gain a college education, just as thousands are doing in all parts of the land. They would teach for a term or two or work for a while at manual labor until they would accumulate fifty or a hundred dollars, and with this sum they would resume their studies in college. If at the close of the term they found themselves without money, or, indeed, considerably in debt, they were not discouraged. There was only one thing to do. They must go to work and cancel the debt and accumulate another small sum, so as to join their classes again or drop into the one behind. Be it said, to the honor of thousands of young men, that they are not discouraged by the fact that they have no money. They persevere until they acquire an education, even though it costs them the greatest self-denial.

M ilbur Grant was a young man scarcely out of his teens/ His companion was one of the oldest men iy the college. He had perhaps reached his thirtieth year. He was a teacher and a preacher, and, feeling the need of more preparation for his work, he had entered college at a late day. The two students were not on intimate terms at all, though good friends. A few years before John Collins had taught the winter school in a rural district known as Black Jack. A year or two later Wilbur Grant had taught in the same place. Thus they had many friends in common in that community, and occasionally, as they met, they indulged in reminiscences'of their pedagogical days. ‘'Where have you been this time, Grant?” asked his friend after the salutations mentioned. “I have been over to Black Jack, eating turkey with some of our old friends,” was the reply. “By they way, Collins, you have a good many friends in that district and they always ask about you.” 4f How is our old friends Higgins ?” “He begins to show age,” was the reply. “He must be sixty years old, and his wife is not much younger.” “He has lost nothing of his religious zeal, has he?” asked Collins? “You may be sure that he has not,” was the response. “I believe that he is as true a man in all the relations of life as I ever saw. His piety is no sham. It takes hold of his very life, and he shows it in everything he does. He still goes out to the old log meetinghouse, and sits on one of those haid planks through the service, wholly oblivious of everything except the worship of God. You know that in his younger days he was a leader of their ' singing. His voice is cracked now, so that he cannot sing much; but I doubt not his spirit soars aloft and joins the redeemed in singing praises to God.” “I can agree with all you say touching his manly, Christian character,” said Collins. “I boarded with him one term and saw him under almost all circumstances. I saw him at church, at home, in the field, in the barnyard, and in the most trying places, and his religion never failed him.” “Did I ever tell you how our morning devotions were once interrupted so far as I was concerned by old Tom ?” asked Grant. “You mean the old cat, I suppose?” was the response. “You never told me about it, but lam somewhat familiar with the animal’s pranks. ■ Let us hear it.” “Come on, boys, and listen. Grant is going to tell a. cat story. I suppose it will outdo Bret Harte’s poem.” This remark was made by one of a group of students standing near who had over-

heard some of the previous conversation. “Now, boys, this is hardly fair. I did not intimate that I had a story to tell to the crowd. Besides, 'I am not given to painting a story in bright colors. I was only going to relate an incident that happened while I was teaching school in the country.” “Of course he will give nothing but the bare facts,” remarked one of the bystanders. “We can allow our imagination to fill out the rest.” “Now, boys, what I am going to tell is strictly true,” said Grant. “It is not wonderful, either, but it was a most trying place for me for a few moments. You see, I was boarding with this family that we have been talking about. Besides the old man and his wife there was one son about eighteen years old. I was then only seventeen. I found it necessary to maintain a certain amount of dignity in order to govern this young man iu school. For the most part we were good fiiends, but sometimes he would be inclined to take advantage of me in the schoolroom. I did not hesitate to rebuke him. I wanted the school to see that I was not partial toward one at my boarding place. A little episode like this would cause considerable coolness between ps, but in time it would always disappear. I found it necessary not to be too intimate with him in order to be master of the situation in school hours. Indeed, I went to the school-room every morning with fear and trembling, as I had over sixty names on the roll. Some of the pupils had been soldiers in the army. Many of them were older than I. This has nothing to do with the story, however. “Well, the house where I boarded had a large fire-place. The old man and his son Jim would make a big log heap in the fireplace, and that carpetless room was a most cheerful place of an evening. The light from the fireplace was generally the only light we had. I was very much inclined to read every evening, but the old folks retired at 8 o’clock, and they slept in the only room that had fire. There was nothing for Jim and me to do but to go up-stairs to bed at that early hour. ” “How about the cat?” interrupted some one. “Oh! don’t confuse me. I am getting to that. I wanted to get my bearings first. As we sat around the big open fire, each one had his place. The old man sat in one corner, next to the window. The old lady sat on the opposite side of the fireplace. Jim and I sat between the two. I usually sat next to the old man. The cat was a great pet. He was a fine, large animal —one that would at tract attention anywhere. His regular place was before the fire. Whenever he got tired of lying there he would jump on some one’s lap. He was generally a welcome visitor, but I did not encourage him to be specially intimate with me. “Once, when we were in the midst of the morning devotions and the old man was pouring forth a fervent prayer, Jim gave me a nudge, implying that he wanted me to look at something. I turned my face toward him, and he then pointed toward his father. I naturally turned my eyes in that direction. The old man was on his knees praying, as I have said, and the old cat sat on his back as quietly as if it were her accustomed place. “lhe whole scene was very amusing to me, but I dared not laugh. I had the utmost respect for the old man’s

religion, and I would not have manifested the least levity for anything in the world. Besides, I was the teacher, one of the important personages of the community, and it became me to be a model of propriety everywhere. “I got my head down next to the back of my chair and my handkerchief to my mouth and tried to be as devout as circumstances would permit. To all outward appearances I was succeeding fairly well. If nothing else had happened I would have escaped disgrace. Without an” warning the old cat made a spring au* lighted on my back. This was too much for me. Jim and I exploded simultaneously, and it was impossible to restrain the fit of laughter that took possession of us. “I felt deeply disgraced, but I could not control myself. The two old persons were not disturbed in the least. Ido not think they even smiled. The old man continued his prayer as if nothing had happened.” “Well, that is a fair cat story; but is there no sequel to it ?” asked one of the listeners. “None that I know of,” replied Grant. “After that I was always more or less uneasy, and w r as careful that my back was as nearly perpendicular as possible during the hour of the devotions.” “I can’t give you a sequel to the story,” remarked Collins, “bu,t I can

tell another incident that happened in ; the younger days cf the cat.” “Let us hear it,” several cried. “Well, I was teaching in the same i district a year or two before this time j and was boarding at the same place. I was preaching then occasionally and the old man always insisted that I should lead the devotions at night and Ihe in the morning. This order was ob- ' served without variation all winter. It J was in the early spring and my school I was almost out. The weather was so warm and balmy that we could keep I the doors open even in the morning. “We were in the midst of our devoj tions one morning, and the old man , was praying earnestly. This time the cat came around in front of the old , man, who had his eyes closed, as a , matter of course, and did not see the , festive feline. I cannot tell just what ’ thoughts were passing through the , cat’s mind. He probably saw the old man’s tongue moving, and thought it was a mouse. At all events he made a spring at the old man’s face and actually clawed his tongue. There was nothing funny in this, I assure you. The old man knocked the cat clean across the room, and with the blood streaming out of his mouth, he exclaimed : 4 “ ‘Scat! scat 1 you beast! brother Collins, pray!’ “Do you think I prayed ? It was the last thing in the world I could have done. I could not say a word. My first impulse was to get out of that room. I did not seem able to get on my feet. I just went out of doors on all fours into the yard before I gained my feet. The whole scene was so intensely ludicrous that I would have laughed if it had killed me.” A peal of laughter greeted the speak - er at the close of his story, and one of the bystanders remarked, as he walked away: “A preacher can tell about as big a story as any one when he applies himself to the task.” “Quite a cat-a-strophe, as I actually heard a preacher once say, in describing the work of a tornado,” remarked another listener.

“SCAT! SCAT, YOU BEAST! BROTHER COLLINS. PRAY!