DOCTOR PROSSER AT CROSSBOURNE.

Dr and Mrs Prosser came to pay their spring visit to the Maltbys about ten days after William Foster's happy escape out of the hands of his enemies. The doctor was exceedingly glad of this opportunity of having a little quiet conversation with his old college friend the vicar on subjects which, though near his heart, were too commonly pushed out of his thoughts by the pressure of daily and hourly engagements. For his was the experience so common in these days of multiplied occupations and ceaseless coming and going: he could find no time for pause, no time for serious meditation on subjects other than those which demanded daily the full concentration of his thoughts. He was not unconscious that he was moving on all the while through higher and n.o.bler things than those which he was pursuing, just as we are conscious of the beauties of some lovely scenery, glimpses of which flash upon us on either side, as we dash on by rail at express speed to our journey's end; but, at the same time, he was painfully aware that he was really living not merely amidst but _for_ the things which are seen and temporal, without any settled and steady aim at the things which are not seen and are eternal. So he hoped that his visit to Ernest Maltby might be helpful to him by bringing him into an intellectual and spiritual atmosphere entirely different in tone from that with which he was surrounded in his London home and society. He had seen the true beauty and felt the persuasive force of holiness, in his previous intercourse with the vicar of Crossbourne; and he believed that it might do him good to see and feel them again, as exhibited in the character and conversation of his friend.

He was also very anxious that his wife should learn some practical wisdom from the Maltbys, which might guide her into the way of making her home happier both to herself and to him. It is true that things had considerably improved since the Christmas-eve when the doctor found her absent from home. His words of loving remonstrance had sunk deeply into her heart, and she had profited by them. She had managed to curtail her engagements, and to be more at home, especially when she knew that her husband was counting upon her society. Still, there were many self- imposed duties to which she devoted time and strength which could ill be spared, and in the performance of which she was wearing herself down; so the forced interruption of these by her visit to Crossbourne was looked upon by her husband with secret but deep satisfaction.

The only drawback to their visit was that neither Mrs Maltby nor her daughter would be at home; but Mr Maltby had begged them not to postpone their visit on this account, as his sister, Miss Maltby, would be staying with him, and would take the place of hostess to his guests.

And, indeed, sorry as Dr Prosser was that he should miss seeing his old lady friends, he was satisfied that their place would be well supplied by the vicar's sister.

Miss Maltby was considerably older than her brother, and had been almost in the position of a parent to him when he had, in his early life, lost his own mother. She was one of those invaluable single women, not uncommon in the middle rank of society in England, whose sterling excellences are more widely felt than openly appreciated. She was not one of those active ladies who carry little bells on the skirts of their good deeds, so as to make a loud tinkling in the ears of the world.

Hers was a quiet and un.o.btrusive work. Her views of usefulness and duty were, in the eyes of some of her acquaintance, old-fashioned and behind the age. Standing on one side, as it were, out of the whirl of _good_ excitement, she could mark the mistakes and shortcomings in the bringing up of the professedly Christian families which came under her observation, and of the grownup workers of her own s.e.x. But the wisdom she gathered from observation was stored up in a mind ever under the control of a pure and loving heart. Sneer or sarcasm never pa.s.sed her lips. When called on to reprove the wrong or suggest the right, she always did it with "meekness of wisdom," her object being, not to glorify self by making others painfully conscious of their inconsistencies or defects, but to guide the erring gently into the paths of righteousness, sober-mindedness, and persuasive G.o.dliness.

Practical good sense, the fruit of a plain scriptural creed thought out, prayed out, and lived out, in the midst of a thousand unrealities, and half-realities, and distortions of the truth in belief and practice, was the habitual utterance of her lips and guide of her daily life. She and Thomas Bradly were special friends, inasmuch as they were thoroughly kindred spirits, anything like sham or humbug being the abhorrence of both, while the Word of G.o.d was to each the one only infallible court of appeal in every question of faith and practice.

"You must see a good deal of the coa.r.s.er-grained human material here in Crossbourne," remarked Dr Prosser to the vicar, as they strolled together in the garden in the evening after their meeting. "When I last had the pleasure of visiting you, before you came to this living, your parishioners were of a more civilised stamp."

"More 'civil' would perhaps be a more correct term," said Mr Maltby, "at least so far as touchings of the hat and smooth speeches were concerned. But, in truth, with all the roughness of these people, there is that sterling courtesy and consideration in many of them which I rarely meet with in more cultivated districts."

"Well," said the other, "I suppose that is owing to the increased intelligence produced by habits of reading, attending lectures, and studying mechanism."

"I think not," replied the vicar. "I have not, in my own experience, found true courtesy and consideration to be the fruit of increased intelligence. On the contrary, the keener the intellectual edge, as a rule, the keener the pursuit of selfish ends, and the more conspicuous the absence of a regard to the interests and a respect for the feelings of others."

"Then you don't credit education with this improvement in courtesy and consideration."

"Certainly not. I believe that with increased intelligence there is also an increased sensitiveness in all our faculties, and so an increased appreciation of what is beautiful and becoming; but it is the heart that must be touched if there is to be that real concern for the welfare and comfort of others which I have observed in many of my present parishioners. They are rough extremely, but there is an honest and warm heart beneath the surface; and when the love of Christ gets down into these hearts, and the grace of Christ dwells there, I do not know a n.o.bler material to work with."

Dr Prosser was silent for a minute, then he said, "I suppose we are all agreed that true religion has a very humanising and refining influence.

I only feel a wish, at times, that Religion herself were less hampered by creeds and dogmas, so that her full power might be felt, and to a far wider extent. I think that then religious and intellectual advancement would keep steady pace side by side."

"Do you, my dear friend?" said Mr Maltby sadly. "I must confess I am quite of a different opinion. People seem to me to have gone wild on this subject, and to have lost their senses in their over-anxiety to cultivate them. Intellect-worship is to my mind the master snare of our day. Cram the mind and starve the heart--this is the great popular idolatry. And so religion must be a misty, dreamy sort of thing; not well-defined truth, plainly and sharply taught in G.o.d's Word, requiring faith in revealed doctrines which are to influence the life by taking up a stronghold in the heart, but rather a foggy mixture of light and darkness, of superst.i.tion and sentiment, which will leave men to follow pretty nearly their own devices, and allow them to pa.s.s through this world with quieted consciences, so long as they are sincere, let their creed be anything or nothing: and as to the future, why, this world is the great land of realities, and a coming judgment, a coming heaven or h.e.l.l, these are but plausible dreams, or, at the most, interesting speculations. Excuse me, my dear friend, for speaking warmly. I cannot but feel and speak strongly on this subject when I mark the growing tendency in our day to fall down and worship the cultivation of the intellect, to the neglect and disparagement of definite gospel truth, and of that education of the heart without which, I am more firmly persuaded every day, there cannot be either individual peace, home virtue and happiness, or public honour and morality."

"Perhaps you are right," said the doctor thoughtfully. "There may be a danger in the direction you point out. Certainly we men of science have, many of us, while valuing and respecting the Christian religion, been getting increasingly impatient of anything like religious dogmatism and exclusiveness."

At this moment a servant came to say that Thomas Bradly wished to have a word with the vicar when he was disengaged. "Oh, ask him to come to me here in the garden," said the vicar.--"You shall see one of my rough diamonds now," he added smilingly to his friend; "indeed, I may call him my 'Koh-i-noor,' only he hasn't been polished.--Thomas," he continued to Bradly as he entered, "here's an old friend of mine, Dr Prosser, a gentleman eminent in the scientific world, who has come down from London to see me, and to get a little experience of Crossbourne ways and manners. I tell him that he'll find us rather a rough material."

"I'm sure," replied Thomas, "I'm heartily glad to see any friend of yours among us. He must take us as he finds us. Like other folks, we aren't always right side out; but we generally mean what we say, and when we do say anything we commonly make it stand for summat."

"Well now, Thomas," continued Mr Maltby, "you're a plain, practical man, and I think you could give us an opinion worth having on a subject we've been talking about."

"I'm sure, sir, I don't know how that may be," was the reply; "but we working-people sometimes see things in a different light from what those above us does,--at least so far as our experience goes."

"That's just it, Thomas. It will interest Dr Prosser, I know, to hear how a theory about religion and truth, which is becoming very fashionable in our day, would suit yourself and the quick-witted and warm-hearted people you have daily to deal with."

"Let me hear it, sir, and I'll answer according to the best of my judgment."

The vicar then repeated to Bradly the substance of the conversation between himself and the doctor on religious dogmatism and breadth of views.

"Ah, well," cried Thomas laughing, "you're almost too deep for me. But it comes into my mind what happened to me a good many years ago, when I were quite a young man. There were a n.o.bleman in our parts,--I wasn't living at Crossbourne then,--and his son came of age, and such a feast there was as I never saw afore or since, and I hope I never may again.

Well, my father's family had been in that country for many generations, and so they turned us into gentlefolks, me and my father, that day, and we sat down to dinner with the quality; and a grand dinner it was for certain. When it was all over, as I thought, and the parson had returned thanks, just as I were for getting up and going, they brings round some plates with great gla.s.s bowls in 'em, nearly full of water, something like what an old aunt of mine used to keep gold-fish in; and there was a knife and fork on each plate. Then the servants brings all sorts of fruits,--apples and pears, and peaches and grapes,--and sets 'em on the table. I was asked what I'd have, and I chose a great rosy- cheeked apple. And then I were going to bite a great piece out of it, but a gent as sat next me whispers, 'Cut it, man; it's more civil to cut it.' So I takes up the knife, which had got a mother-o'-pearl handle to it, and tries to cut the apple, but I could only make a mark on it such as you see on a hot-cross-bun. Then I looked at the blade of the knife, and it were just like silver, but were as blunt as a broomstick.

However, I tried again, but it wouldn't cut; so I axes a tall chap in livery as stood behind my chair if they'd such a thing as a butcher's steel in the house, for I wanted to put an edge to my knife. Eh, you should have seen that fellow grin! 'No, sir,' he says, 'we ain't got nothing of the sort.' 'Well, then,' says I, 'take this knife away,-- there's a good man!--for it's too fine for me, and bring me a good steel knife with an edge as'll cut.'--Now, if you'll excuse my long story, gentlemen, it seems to me that the sort of religion you say is getting popular among the swell people and men of science in our country is uncommon like that fruit-knife as couldn't suit me. It's a deal too fine for common purposes, and common people, and common homes, and common hearts; it hasn't got no edge--it won't cut. We want a religion with a good usable edge to it, as'll cut the cords of our sins and the knots of our troubles. Now, that's just the religion of the Bible. It tells us what we're to do for G.o.d and for our fellow-creatures; it tells us how we're to do it, by showing us how the Lord Jesus Christ shed his blood to free us from the guilt and power of sin, and bought us grace by which we might walk in his steps; and it shows why we're to do it,--just from love to him, because he first loved us in giving Jesus to die for us. I don't see what use religion or the Bible would be to us if these things weren't laid down for us clear and sharp; if p'raps they was true, and p'raps not; or true for me, but not true for my neighbour; or half true, and half false; or true for to-day, and not true for to- morrow."

"Bravo!" said Dr Prosser, delighted, and clapping his hands. "I believe your rough workman's hammer has. .h.i.t the right nail on the head, and hit it hard too."

"I'm very glad, sir, if you think so," said Bradly, "I've had chaps crying up to me now and then some such sort of views as the vicar and yourself have been talking about; but I've felt sure of this, however well they may look on paper, they'll never act. What's the use of a guide, if he's blind and don't know where he's taking you to? I remember I were once spending a night at a gent's house, and the next morning I had to walk to a town twenty miles off. It were quite a country-place where the gentleman lived, and when he were saying good- bye to me I axed him for directions, for I'd never been in that part of the country before. So he said, 'You must go for about a mile and a half along this road, and then you'll come to a wood on your left hand.

You must go through that wood, and then any one'll be able to direct you for the rest of the way.'--'And pray,' says I, 'which path must I take through the wood? For I daresay there's more than one.'--'Oh, you can't mistake,' says he; 'you've only to follow your nose.' So I set off, supposing it was all right. I found the wood easily enough, but when I got to it I was quite at a nonplush. There was three roads into the wood, each one as distinct as the other. It was all very well to say, 'Follow your nose;' but if I looked down one road that would be following my nose, and so it would be when I looked down either of the other roads. I had to chance it; and a pretty mess I made of it, for I completely lost my way, and didn't get to my journey's end till after dark.--Now, some of these scientific gents as has got too wise to believe in the old-fashioned Bible and its plain meaning, what sort of directions would they give us through this world, so that we might do our duty in it, and get happily through it, and reach the better land?

It would be much with poor sinners as it was with me. If we're to have a religion without doctrines and without a revelation, or if we're only to pick out just as much from the Bible as suits our fancies and our prejudices, we shall be just following our nose. And where will that lead us? Why, into all sorts of difficulties here, and the end will be nothing but darkness."

"Just so, Thomas," said the vicar; "I feel sure that you speak the truth. We want the plain, distinct teaching of the doctrines of G.o.d's Word, if we are to be holy here and happy hereafter. We want to know unmistakably what to believe, and how to act out our belief. What a blessing it is that, when we take up our Bibles in a humble and teachable spirit, we can say, 'Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.' But we are come upon strange times indeed, when professed teachers of the Christian religion can propound to us 'a gospel without an atonement, a Bible without inspiration, and an ignorant Christ.'--Well, Thomas, shall we come into my study? Dr Prosser will excuse me for a few minutes."

An evening or two after this conversation, as the whole vicarage party lingered round the table after supper, Dr Prosser turned to his host and said, "Judging from all I see and hear, Maltby, a parish like yours must be a famous place for testing the working value of many modern theories of morality and religion."

"Yes," was the reply; "what you say, my dear friend, is true indeed.

Learned and amiable men sit in their libraries and college rooms, and weave out of their own intellects or consciousness wonderful theories of the goodness of human nature, the charms of a more genial Christianity than is to be found by ordinary seekers in the Scriptures, and the need of a wider entrance to a broader road to heaven than the strait gate and narrow way of the Gospels. But let such men come to Crossbourne, and have to deal with these people of shrewd and sharpened intellects, strong wills, strong pa.s.sions, and strong temptations, and they will find that the old-fashioned gospel is, after all, the only thing that will meet all man's moral and spiritual needs. I have never been more struck with this than in the case of a reformed-infidel amongst us: the change in that man has been indeed wonderful, as even his bitterest enemies are constrained to acknowledge,--he has indeed found the gospel to be to him the 'pearl of great price.' The change in that man's character, home, and even expression of countenance, is truly as from darkness to light."

"I wish," observed Miss Maltby, "there was less of the theoretical and fanciful, and more of the practical and scriptural, in many of the modern schemes proposed for the acceptance of my own s.e.x in the matter of education. I wish wise men would let us alone, and allow us to keep our proper place, and follow out our proper calling, as these may be plainly gathered from the great storehouse of all wisdom."

"Pray give us your thoughts a little more fully, Miss Maltby," said the doctor. "I think there may be one here at any rate who will benefit by them."

"Two, John, at least," said his wife, laughing: "for if I am the one who am to benefit, you will be the other; for whatever improves me will be sure to improve your home, so we shall share the profits."

Her husband held out his hand to her, and while they exchanged a loving pressure, Miss Maltby said: "Woman seems now to be treated as an independent rational being, whose one great object ought to be in this life to outstrip, or at any rate keep on a level with, the other s.e.x in all intellectual pursuits. Did G.o.d put her into the world for this?

Did he give her as a rule faculties and capacities for this? I cannot believe it. This ambition to shine, this thirst for excessive education, this craving after female university distinctions, why all this is eating out that which is truly womanly in hundreds of our girls, and turning them into a sort of intellectual mermaids, only one half women, and the other half something monstrous and unnatural. And what is the result? Let me read you the words of a high authority--Dr Richardson: 'These precocious, coached-up children are never well,' he says. 'Their mental excitement keeps up a flush which, like the excitement caused by strong drink in older children, looks like health, but has no relation to it.' And if this overtasking the mind is so injurious to the body, what will our women of the next generation be if things go on with us as they are doing at present? I must just quote again from the same authority. Dr Richardson says, 'If women succeed in their clamour for admission into the universities, and like moths follow their sterner mates into the midnight candle of learning, the case will be bad indeed for succeeding generations; and the geniuses and leaders of the nation will henceforth be derived from those simple pupils of the Board schools who entered into the conflict of life with reading, writing, and arithmetic, free of brain to acquire learning of every kind in the full powers of developed manhood.'"

"You make out a very gloomy case and prospect for us," said Mrs Prosser sadly and thoughtfully.

"I do," replied the other; "and what makes all this far worse is, that this mental overwork cannot go on without depriving the sufferers--for they _are_ sufferers to an extent they little dream of--of that sweet privilege of being a true blessing to others which Christian mothers, daughters, and sisters enjoy, whose work inside, and moderately outside the home, is done simply, unostentatiously, and in a womanly manner.

Verily, those women who sacrifice all to this mental forcing, to this race for intellectual distinction,--verily, they have their reward. But they can look for no other."

"But stay, my dear friend," interposed Dr Prosser. "I have been going with you heart and soul, only I felt a little jolt just then, as if the wheels ran over a stone. Was not that last expression a little uncharitable? Will all women who covet and strive after intellectual honours be necessarily shut out of heaven?"

"Far be it from me to say so," exclaimed Miss Maltby earnestly; "I was speaking about reward. Surely we make some sad mistakes on this subject; I mean about reward in a better world. We are naturally so afraid, some of us, of putting good works in the wrong place, that we have gone into the opposite extreme, and turned them out of their right place. It is surely one of the sweetest and most encouraging of thoughts that Jesus will condescend to reward earnest work done for him, though after all only the fruit of his own grace. But if we women are to have our share in these heavenly rewards, our hearts cannot be engrossed in the pursuit of earthly intellectual prizes. Oh! We cannot think and speak too earnestly on such a subject as this; can we, dear brother?"

"No, indeed," said the vicar, "when we remember that the Lord is coming again, and then shall he reward every one according to his works."

No one spoke for a while, and then Mrs Prosser asked, "What do you think, dear Miss Maltby, of these female guilds, and societies, and clubs?"

"I think very ill of them," was the reply; "for they subst.i.tute, or are in danger of subst.i.tuting, self-imposed rules and motives for the simple rules and constraining motives set before us in G.o.d's Word."

"I don't quite understand you," said the other.

"I mean thus," continued Miss Maltby. "Let us take an example. I have some young lady friends who have joined an 'early-rising club.' They are to get up and be downstairs by a certain hour every morning, or pay a forfeit, and are to keep a strict account of their regularities or irregularities, as the case may be."

"And what harm do you see in this?" asked Dr Prosser.

"Just this," replied the other: "it seems to me that this banding together to accomplish an object, in itself no doubt desirable, gives a sort of semi-publicity to it, and thereby robs it of its simplicity, and in a measure deprives G.o.d of his glory in it, as though the constraining love of Christ were not sufficient to induce us to acquire habits of self-denial and usefulness. How much better for one who desires to live in the daily habit of unostentatious self-discipline modestly to practise this regularity of early-rising as an act of Christian self- denial, to be known and marked by Him who will accept and graciously bless it, if done to please him and in his strength. In a word, dear friends, I cannot but think that our female character is likely to suffer by the adoption of these new and, in my view, unscriptural theories and systems, and that the less of excitement and publicity there is in woman's work, and the more of the quiet home work and home influence in her doings, the holier, the healthier, the happier, and the more truly useful will she be."

"I quite agree with my sister in this matter," observed the vicar. "I believe that there is a subtle element of evil in this club system among young females which has escaped the notice of many Christian people. I mean the independence of _home_ which it generates, as well as the new motives which it introduces. Thus, a bright, intelligent young lady friend of mine had joined a society or club for secular reading. The members are bound to read works, selected by a responsible person connected with the society, for one hour every day, a certain fine having to be paid for every hour missed. And what was the consequence in my young friend's case? Why, the society had usurped the place of the parents; it, not they, was to be the guide of her studies, and home duties must remain undone rather than this hour be infringed upon: for it was a point of honour to keep this hour sacred, as it were; and so the debt of honour had to be paid, even though the debt of conscience-- that is, what home duties required--should be left unpaid. Just as it is on the turf and at the gaming-table,--the man's gaming debts are called debts of honour, and _must_ be paid, come what will, while debts to the tradesman, whose livelihood depends on his customers' honesty, may remain unpaid. Such has been, or rather _had_ been the result with my young friend. But finding that this reading-club was detaching her thoughts from home, weakening the hold of home upon her, causing her to lean on the judgment of others rather than on that of her parents, and to neglect, or do with an ill grace, duties clearly a.s.signed to her by G.o.d, and to subst.i.tute for them self-imposed tasks and studies, she had the good sense and good principle to give it up. Surely a system which has a tendency to draw young people out of the circle of home duty, influence, and authority, and thus to make them independent of those whom G.o.d has given them to be their guides and counsellors, and to subst.i.tute the rules and penalties of a self-const.i.tuted society for the motives and discipline of the gospel, can neither be sound in itself, nor strengthening to the character, nor healthful either for mind or soul."

"Well," said the doctor thoughtfully, "there is a great deal, I am sure, in what you say, and I think my dear wife and myself are getting round to be pretty much of one mind with you now on these important matters."

It was with much regret that Dr Prosser and his wife took their leave of the vicarage and its inmates on the first of May. It was a lovely morning, combining all the vigorous freshness of spring with the mature warmth of summer. As the doctor and the vicar strolled down to the station, leaving Mrs Prosser to ride down with the luggage, they encountered Thomas Bradly, who was also on his way to the line.