Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 March 1886 — THE YOUNG MINISTER. BY C. E. RAYMOND. [ARTICLE]

THE YOUNG MINISTER.

BY C. E. RAYMOND.

Frank Brown was the only son of the Browns on Jefferson Avenue. He was a young man of five-and-twenty or' thereabouts, but his thoughtful expression, his dignified bearing, and ripe scholarship would have led anyone to consider him much older. His face was strong rather than handsome; his figure fine; his manner cordial. He was not an ordinary yaung man, at least in the estimation of the Browns, and his future promised great things. Two years before he had finished his course in college, and immediately thereafter he was installed as the pastor of the Unitarian Church in Bath. During the tw> years of his ministry very flattering reports were spread concerning his remarkable ability. The strength and wisdom dis§layed in his sermons surpassed anything !ath had known heretofore, and it was not the young minister was the subject of much favorable comment. It was said by a few, a very few; “Mr. Brown lacks spirituality, but,” they continued, “time and experience will bring that.” Many of these good reports reached the Browfis, to whom, by the way, they were not unexpected; for Mrs. Brown often thought to herself, she was too wise a woman to scatter her thoughts broadcast, “Some day our Frank will be a great Unitarian divine.” The said Browns were a very old and respectable family. In spite of their name, they could trace their line to a remote period, which line had always been characterized by brain power. Mrs. Brown occasionally alluded to “my people,” and the slight emphasis on the “my,” accompanied by an almost imperceptible bending of the chin, suggested much. I would not have it imagined for one moment, however, that Mrs. Brown was one of those common persons who try to hide their obscurity behind ingeniously concocted tales of ancestry. Nothing of She was far too well-bred to neea any references. Indeed, everything about her, from her low voice to her shapely hand, stamped her a lady. She had inherited that title from generations back until it was part of her existence. She sometimes said with the faintest smile, “As if a lady could forget to be a lady; as easily change the cdior of her eyes.” All this has been ■aid to convince you that Mrs. Brown, although she sometimes alluded to “my people,” had no idea of using the terms as a fortification to her social position. Beside Frank, the Browns had two other children, Maud and Ethel, young ladies grown. The former was a stately girl something after the style of her mother, a little pale, perhaps, but withal beautiful. Her manner corresponded perfectly with her appearance. One would think that ■he had devoted her whole life to the mastery of the emotions, and so successful had

shebeen, that even when a school-girl she was never known to show any excitement. She read wise books, studied deep subjects, talked learnedly, and was a most graceful listener. She had few girl friends, for girls, as a class, you know, are so frivolous, wasting their energies on little nothings. Those who knew little of her either stood in awe of or disliked her; those who were intimate with her called her “superior.” Ethel, on the contrary, might, under different circumstances, have been an emotional young lady with loves and hates, like other girls; but the home atmosphere had, Tery early, stunted such rank growth, and we find her a demure lass, who looked up to and copied Maud as the ideal woman. Though not so learned as her sister, she appeared often “With the Poets” and in “Poetry of the Period,” and now and then she wrote prose articles on “Practical Charity,” “Society’s Needs,” •New Factors in Keform,” and the like, all of which appeared in the Sunday edition of the Bath Educator, and were duly discussed and appreciated. The Browns were not wealthy, but they could not be called poor, for had not each in himself the realization of a fortune? They were rich in ideas, and when were ideas not in demand? They were rich in inherited memories, which, even in demo- ' eratic America, entitle the holder to some consideration. They were rich in self-es-teem,which adversity had only strength- . ened. “1 Is ' Mrs. Brown and her daughters ofkn discussed Frank's future. ’ “Frank will marry, some day. Oh! yes. A fine lady of intellectual ability. Some one who will understand and appreciate his power. Some one whom we can consider as one of us.” And they even went so far as to mention one or two young ladies that would “just suit Frank.” And tho ladies of his own household were not the only ladies that were interested in his fu.nre. Many mammas looked at him and thought; “Just the husband for our Mary,” “He should iparry onr Helen; she is so good and so nice, that she would make an > excellent wife for Uie young minister," or, •What a sensible thing it would be for Mr.

Brown to marry our Hannah." The above are some of the thoughts that oocupied the minds of several anxious mothers, ns they listened to the inspiring words of onr young ditSne Sunday after Sunday. Still farther, it may not be unreasonable to suppose that some of the young Indies, whose years would enable them to properly estimate the value of our hero, Would have been glad to settle the question and remove l all farther cause of anxiety. In the very face of all this, Frank Brown, apparently, was the only one who gave lit- I tie or no heed to the subject. It may 'A>e imagined then how the following announce - ment was received. The family were seated in the pleasant little dining-room one morning, when Frank, looking up suddenly and interrupting a conversation between his Sisters, exclaimed: “Mother, I am thinking of being married.” His mother smiled faintly, ns she always did when she wished to show approval, and replied: “I see no reason, my son, why you should hesitate as soon ns you have found a suitable person.” \ It may be well to observe Mrs. Brown was one of those persons who are seldom taken by surprise. She was very cautious in her reply, and used the term “suitable” as meaning a great deal, “Well, mother, I think I have found such a person, and she has promised to be my wife.” Mrs. Brown nnd Mand would have waited for Frank to tell who this remarkable woman was, but Ethel, forgetting herself, exclaimed: “Dear Frank, who is she?” Now, whether he anticipated what was coming, or whether, like many young men in love, he was somewhat "embarrassed, certain it is that Frank Brown for once hesitated, blushed, and then said, “Fanny Gray.” What-had happened!

The stately mother, the emotionless Mand, the demure Ethel, all cried “What!” and then, as if ashamed of such an outburst, each face settled into a stony expression and absolute quiet reigned. Frank looked from one to the other, ami,having resumed his normal state, said, measuring each word, “Yes, lam proud to say Fannie Gray is to be my wife,” and, meeting with no answer, arose and left the room. Ihe three ladies sat speechless for some time; then Ethel said, as if trying to understand something, “Fannie Gray,” and Maud, as if awakening from a dream, echoed, “Fannie Gray.” Mrs. Brown, however, recovered her self-possession before she had committed herself the second time, and remarked coolly, as she withdrew: . “If Frank wishes to' marry Fannie Gray, I presume we have nothing to say.” Now who was Fannie Gray? Just across the street from the Browns was the home of Dr. Gray. Eighteen years before a very sad home it was, for Mrs, Gray, the Doctor's child wife, lay quite still and pale with rosebuds on her breast and in her little white hands. The light had gone from the laughing eyes, the sweet smile from the bonny face. The Doctor walked up and down, through one room, then through another, with a queer look on his face. People whispered in frightened tones,“He is losing his reason,” but the wise old nurse put a laughing infant into his arms, and when he saw Fannie’s smile in the wondering eyes, and played around the baby mouth, he took it into his heart of hearts. This dimpled, crowing, blue-eyed darling took full possession of the Doctor’s heart and quite vanquished despair. Y r ears passed bv and “the Doctor’s darling” was his darling still. This little blossom that had grown in the pure atmosphere of love, ttnder, innocent, beautiful, was Fannie Gray. Eighteen years had stamped no care on her fair brow, left no tears in the clear blue eyes, brought uo sorrow to the trusting heart. When she was small, people called her “a spoilt child;” as she grew older, mothers wondered “What kind of a wife will Fannie Gray make?” but the good old Doctor and Fannie lived in the sunshine of each other’s love, aud knew nothing of what the world thought or said.

This simple, pretty, laughing Fannie Gray, , with her innocent blue eyes and childish speech, was then to be the wife of Frank Brown, the learned young minister. Was it any wonder Mrs. Brown marveled? Was it any wonder Maud, with all her wisdom, could not understand? Was it any wonder Ethel quite forgot “Society’s Needs” in thinking over Frank’s “queer choice?” As soon as the engagement was announced there was a great deal of genteel gossip. Genteel gossip. as f you know, is confined entirely to the “best circles.” Mrs. Harvy, Hanna’s mamma, thought it was “simply ridiculous for Frank Brown to throw himself away on such a simpleton as Fannie.” Mrs. Black, a mojre refined lady, said; “It’s a very remarkalfle union.” Miss Blake, who was sure she knew just the kind of people suited to eatih other, remarked: “Such an intellectual difference!—no affinity whatever—a grave mistake.” Then there was Sophia Smart, whose system of philosophy, if published, and be it said to her credit she did her best to have it widely known, would' have surpassed Hamilton’s, who solved the whole difficulty thus: “It’s strange, but nevertheless true, as can be proven by noted examples, that the most brilliant men many the most stupid women,” and Miss Sophia gave her head a toss, as much as to say, “If brilliant men married brilliant women I’d be the wife of a brilliant man.”

Some of the young men, however, who were serving their apprenticeships as tailors’ models, couldn’t see what Fannie Gray saw in Frank Brown. One of them said, and the rest sanctioned it, “She’s just throwing herself away.” And so people talked. Whatever the Browns thought of Fannie, no one was the wiser. They were too sensible to tell “this dear friend” or “that old acquaintance” anything that could reflect on one of their family. There were two people who thonght it a very sensible union—Fannie Gray and Frank Brown, and as they were the only ones directly interested, it may be concluded they were right; right or wrong, wise or foolish, they were married in the fall and began housekeeping. And where in all the wide, wide world was there such uhome? Fannie possessed the fairy's wand that turned everything it touched into beauty. Her parlor was so pretty- and cosy, only to be outdone by. Frank’s study. Everything in the little home Showed order and taste. Her housekeeping was enough to discourage prophecy. She had no head for matheihatics, but it was wonderful how mnch she could do with a little money. She never guessed it required u very wise head to plan such comforts. Her roses blossomed in the sunny little dining-room and stole their beauty from her dimpled check. 0 . People who went to the parsonage, and there were many who loved , to go, never could tell which was the greater attraction, Frank’s learned conversation or Fannie’s sweet smile. She had p little nook of her own in the, s ndy, whene she used te sit and work quietly while Frank was studying or writing; but when she saw a tire«Bexpression on his .face, or noticed anv signs of weariness, she wonld go to the piano, and in a low, sweet voice sing some tender little love song, aud he, throwing himself oa the sofa and watching the slight figure through half-closed eyes, would smile as he listened tjll the music grew fainter and fainter and finally ended in some celestial song.

Thru she stole from the room nrd Went about some work of kindness with a smile of her bonny face. # ? When Fannie visited the Browns she was just a little timid; not that they illtreated her; uo, she was Frank’s wife and entitled to their love and *' respect, but she did not understand them. They were so wise, just like Frank; and then her beautiful face would grow thoughtful, and somehow, she was not the old Fannie, mirthful, gentle. At timeß she almost looked sad. She wished she was w'pte like Maud and Ethel. How grand it would be to understand the things they did. She could not talk on literature, science, or art. If she read anything sad, she cried; if humorous, Bhe laughed. That was the extent of her power of criticism. When she came back from one of her visits her husband noticed the change, and, one day, looking into her innocent face, he said: “Fannie, darling, something is troubling you, and you know, dear, it makes me very sad.” She hesitated,’'looked away, and then, meeting his gaze, said in a trembling voice: “Do you know, Frank, Isometimes think you did wrong in marrying me? You are so wise, and your mother and sisters are such superior women, and I, l4m so simple.” And then Frank drew her to his heart and told her how he had thanked God every day for his suuny home; that in all the world there was no one so dear to him as 6he; that wisdom of the heart was rare wisdom; that she, and only she, made it possible for him to understand the deepest lessons in life, and kissing her fondly, he left her with the sunshine in her heart and its reflection on her face. Some people said she did not understand her husband’s sermons; be that as it may, she followed their precepts, which was more than the wisest of his listeners did. Three years have passed. Dr. Gray has gone home. The Browns have moved to Bath to be near Frank. They think “Fannie is a dear little thing; but how nice it would be if she were Frank’s equal.” One afternoon Fannie ran in to see Maud and Ethel. They were all sitting before the bright fireplace, when Dr. Hay, an eccentric but kind-hearted old man, came in suddenly and seemed very much annoyed at something that had happened. The winter was a severe one. and numerous reports of small-pox were circulating. The town afforded no hospital, and an old building in a marsh some two miles distant was set aside for that purpose.

The old doctor was no sooner seated than he exclaimed, “It’s a shame. This town ought to sniffer for allowing such a thing to occur. It makes my blood boil to think of the injustice—” “Why, what is wrong?” interrupted Ethel. “ Wrong! it’s all wrong. Last night a man at one of the hotels was taken sick. He came in on a morning train, and finally sent for a doctor. The doctor pronounced it small-pox, and no sooner had the landlord learned the result than he insisted on his removal. • Two men were hired to take him to the hospital, if that can be called one, and, just think of it! they came with an open buggy, put the man in, waited about for nearly an hour, the man freezing the while, and then brought him out there. I was called, but it was too late. He died in less than an hour. I never heard of a more brutal thing,” and the doctor looked from one to another with an outraged expression. Mrs. Brown thought it was shocking. Maud wished people would give more time to the consideration of such emergencies. Ethel declared she would write an article “this very evening, setting forth the needs of a decent hospital and well-trained nurses.” But Fannie said nothing, only the color came and went in her pretty tape, and once when she thought, “What if it had been Frank?” she grew so pale that-Dr. Hay said, “Mrs. Brown, are you ill?” Then she blushed and replied, “Oh, no, but I am so sorry for that poor man, he may have a family. ” “Just so,” returned the doclor. “Besides,” continued he, after a pause, have no idea this part of the town is in clanger, but in the negro quarter the disease is' bound to run riot. Old Uncle Ike and Aunt Hannah are both down, and not a soul to take care of them. People seem to forget duty in the face of danger. There is not so much danger after all from small-pox, if proper care could be given to the patients, but that is just where the difficulty lies. However, I beg your pardon, ladies, for burdening you with this news,” and with this he departed. Mrs. Brown and her daughters discussed the subject fully, and all agreed that Ethel should write her “article.” But Fannie, dear, simple little Fannie only looked grave and finally went home. Once at home she sat down and thought a long time. “If Frank were only here,” she sighed, “I would ask him; but it must be right to go. Just think, if Frank were sick and no one to take care of him!” and tears dimmed her eyes. Then she filled a large basket and went out into the night. Down the long, handsome street she passed, seeing here and there children’s rosy faces pressed against the panes waiting to welcome papas; througn narrower streets, finally through dirty alleys, till she stopped in front of Uncle Ike’s door. As she entered the cold, dark room some one said faintly: “Who’s dar?”

“It’B I, Aunt Hannah, and I’ve brought you a nice supper, and we’ll soon have a light, and a good warm fire,” Fannie answered, cheerily. By this time she had lighted the candle and began to look around her. Sad confusion confronted her every place. On a cot in one corner Uncle Ike lay very still, arnd when Fanny went up to him and looked into his face, she started back instantly—he was dead. Then she went over to Aunt Hannah, but she seemed unconscious; in fact, “Who’s dar?” were the last words she ever uttered. Fannie tidied tho room, tried to help the poor woman, and was just wondering' where shd could get some one to help her, when Dr. Hay entered. He looked around, looked Fannie, looked from one to the other of the old people, and then looked aF Fannie again. He seemed stnnned; then as he laid his hanj tenderly on the fair young head tie said: “My dear child, yon shouldn’t be here." The clear bine eyes looked askingl.v into his face and he turned away only to hide a tear. He examined Aunt „ Hannah and found her recovery was impossible. Then he sat down and watched all through the weary night with Fannie. Ohce he arose, brought her shawl, and folded .it around her, and now and then he me. d thoughtfully but quietly up and down. In the morning Aunt Hannah had joined Uncle Ike. .Fannie helped the doctor make all necessary arrangements for the buria}, and then he insisted on takina her home?; ’ Np, Fannie catch the disease, but she,had a very severe co d afterwards, and somehow Dr. Hay could not break it up. Soon Frank began to grow uneasy and several doctors were consulted, hot all to no purpose. * j . N ; 1 hey hoped mnch fiom the, spring, and she really seem ;d to improve. She thonght the qpr ng was beautiful this year; she never remembered so mauy soft shades of green, so many bird voices." Phe often Iky tor hoars bolding her husband’s hands spa.

smiling sweetly as she looked into his face, and he—his heart was breaking. They wheeled her cot to the window, where the fresh breezes toyed with the golden curls that played on thb fair young brow; and when the shadows lengthened and the golden sunset shimmered through the ieov’eti, she watched the twilight deepen into night. Frank never left her now. He sat for hours looking at the beautiful face, never sjo lovely before, for the blue eyes grew larger, the fair brow fairer, and the trusting/expression deepened on the childish fact*. One day* in early June -nature was hushed. Not a ripple on the lake. Not a rustle in the leaves. Even the birds forgot to sing. The midday sqn had scarcely kissed the tears from the upturned faces of the flowers. Quiet reigned in the parsonage. It was “the doctor’s darling” again that lay so still and fair with rosebuds on her breast and in her loving hands. “Angel Fannie,” many called her, had taught Frank Brown tfie deepest lessons of life, and the last one he learned from her patient suffering made it possible fpr him to take up life anew And live it as only heroes can. If his 6ermons were wonderful before, they were more wonderful now. Mapv said he spoke as if he had looked beyond. Certain it is he went about doing good, carrying nope to’the despairing, light into gloom, until it was said of him—“his face is a benediction.”