Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 March 1877 — The Dead Church in Chasetown. [ARTICLE]

The Dead Church in Chasetown.

The interior of the church was almost as dreary and forlorn as its exterior. The two rows of low-backed, comfortless pews, with an uncarpeted aisle separating them, looked forbidding and homely. The gallery opposite the pulpit was decorated with wooden ornaments in very bad repair, and the moon-faced clock had a broken long pointer and a crooked short one. A red curtain drawn over a brass wire, just above the galiery-rail, revealed a small melodeon, weighted down with half-worn singing-books. The little square of carpet in front of the pulpit was glaring in color, and offended the minister’s sensitive eyes. But he caied little for the appearance of the church. He turned anxiously to the congregation, and glanced over the men and women who sat awaiting his remarks. They did not even seem inclined to look at him now, although he saw many faces whose owners had stared at him curiously enough at the depot. The church windows were open, and a delicious breeze, laden with the perfume of lilacs in neighboring gardens, of the apple-blossoms on the adjacent hills, rustled gently the leaves of the hymnbook which the minister was opening. Mr. Ardent longed to spring to his feet, and to address the congregation with burning words which should infuse life into their fainting souls. For he well knew that their souls were faint. A kind of spiritual paralysis had, two or three years previous to his arrival, fallen upon both the Congregational and Baptist Churches in Chasetown, and thus far all efforts to heal it had been vain. . Gradually the attendance fell away, and by and by it became difficult to secure preaching in either church. The Congregational minister, who had for twenty years contented himself with a meager salary and small approval, had a call elsewhere, and. despairing of Chasetown, accepted it. The church thenceforth became dependent on “ trial preachers.” The Baptist brethren were reduced to the same precarious method of obtaining spiritual sustenance, and Redman, the rich manufacturer and prominent worker in their denomination, had thought to do them great good by sending Mr. , Argent among them. The young clergyman’s fame had preceded him, and dozens of the Congregationalists had thought it worth their while, on the occasion of his first appearance, to visit the Baptist Church. They secretly longed for that spiritual awakening the hope of which had almost vanished from their breasts. Would it come from him ? The little church was hot filled. There were great ugly gaps in the very middle of the congregation. Here and there half a dozen bright, handsome girls occupied a pew together, and, conscious of the contrast of their beauty with the hard features and angular outlines of the farmers’ wives and the farmers scattered about them, they looked coquettishly at the new minister, as if surprised that he did not notice it. As for the farming folk, they appeared gloomy and unsympathetic; the husbafids sat apart from their wives; each person seemed to shrink into his or her corner, as if some wrath to come was concealed in the gathering twilight. A few elderly, red-faccd, squarejawed men looked critically at the minister, as if wondering why he were so presumptuous as to delay his beginning. When Mr. Argent arose, he felt as if he had the whole congregation upon his back, and it was crushing him. But' this was only for a moment. He prayed; and his prayer found an echo in many a heart. The old cracked bell in the belfry had ceased ringing but a minute or two before he began, and his voice, coming after the metallic dissonance, was like sweetest music. His prayer was short; a rustle swept over the congregation. Its members had expected a longer supplication. .They began to fear that they were to be called upon to aid in the work. Each man eyed his neighbor suspiciously. Mr. Argent gave out a hymn, which was sung by the young girls and the “choir,” whose singers arrived late and bustled into the front seats with considerable ostentation. The new minister saw that there were two beautiful faces among those of the singers who aided the choir most skillfully. One was that of a woman of twenty-four or twenty-five, a delicate, pain-laden, even wrinkled face, with pleading, protesting eyes, timid lips and a broad, high forehead; the other, that of a girl, thin, sensitive, passionate, the lovely oval face framed in folds of chestnut hair; a face capable of almost infinite variety of expression. After the hymn, Mr. Argent announced that there would be preaching in that church, morning and afternoon on the morrow, and Sabbathschool concert in the evening, after which he read a chapter from the Gospel of St. John. He then laid aside the great Bible, and stepping down from a low platform began to sing a simple melody with which he had been wont to awaken religious fervor in rude back-woods communities in

the far West. The melody was inspiring; the words appealed; the singer was natural, graceful, eilectivc 11 was a. ann<r to move hearts, to awaken souls. But it seemed to have little or no effect on the congregation. When the song died away, Mr. Argent fancied that he heard sounds as of sobbing here and there in the church, but the mass of his auditors looked straight into space before them, almost as if they were determined to ignore him and his song. Mr. Argent resumed his seat, saying: “ Will some brother lead us in prayer?” There was no answer. The twilight had deepened into dark now; the breeze was cooler; night had come. Mr- Argent waited in vain. It was evident that there would be no response. His heart overflowed with pity and sorrow for these cold and unlovely souls that could not even warm themselves with his enthusiasm. He addressed them freely, with burning and eloquent words he urged them to return to the higher life from which they had departed, and to consecrate themselves anew. Still no answer. Both men and women listened uneasily. Some were willing to respond, but they desired a “more convenient season.” “Mercy sakes! he flustered everybody e’en almost to death,” Aunt Nancy Brown said, afterward, relating the history of the meeting to a congenial gossip, over a smoking cup of tea. “Will no one lead in prayer ? Is there no one who will come with me toChrisfs altar?” said Mr. Argent, once more, this time very gently. He bowed his face; hid it in his hands and waited. The silence in the little church was painful. Uncle Bratus, who sat near the door, shuffled his boots in the hope of relieving tlie horrible spell which seemed to have fallen upon all. But there was no hope. 'All were mute. Mr. Argent arose. “Brethren and sistens,” he said, laying his hands upon the Bible, slowly placing it in position, and placing the hymn-book upon it, “ there will be no further services here this evening. Brethren and sisters, there is no Christ here!”— From a Story by Edward King, in Boston Journal.