BUT more than
any other feeling at this meeting rose the tide of
fellowship for one another. Maxwell watched it, trembling
for its climax which he knew was not yet reached. When it
was, where would it lead them? He did not know, but he was
not unduly alarmed about it. Only he watched with growing
wonder the results of that simple promise as it was being
obeyed in these various lives. Those results were already
being felt all over the city. Who could measure their
influence at the end of a year?
One practical
form of this fellowship showed itself in the assurances
which Edward Norman received of support for his paper. There
was a general flocking toward him when the meeting closed,
and the response to his appeal for help from the Christian
disciples in Raymond was fully understood by this little
company. The value of such a paper in the homes and in
behalf of good citizenship, especially at the present crisis
in the city, could not be measured. It remained to be seen
what could be done now that the paper was endowed so
liberally. But it still was true, as Norman insisted, that
money alone could not make the paper a power. It must
receive the support and sympathy of the Christians in
Raymond before it could be counted as one of the great
forces of the city.
The week that
followed this Sunday meeting was one of great excitement in
Raymond. It was the week of the election. President Marsh,
true to his promise, took up his cross and bore it manfully,
but with shuddering, with groans and even tears, for his
deepest conviction was touched, and he tore himself out of
the scholarly seclusion of years with a pain and anguish
that cost him more than anything he had ever done as a
follower of Christ. With him were a few of the college
professors who had made the pledge in the First Church.
Their experience and suffering were the same as his; for
their isolation from all the duties of citizenship had been
the same. The same was also true of Henry Maxwell, who
plunged into the horror of this fight against whiskey and
its allies with a sickening dread of each day's new
encounter with it. For never before had he borne such a
cross. He staggered under it, and in the brief intervals
when he came in from the work and sought the quiet of his
study for rest, the sweat broke out on his forehead, and he
felt the actual terror of one who marches into unseen,
unknown horrors. Looking back on it afterwards he was amazed
at his experience. He was not a coward, but he felt the
dread that any man of his habits feels when confronted
suddenly with a duty which carries with it the doing of
certain things so unfamiliar that the actual details
connected with it betray his ignorance and fill him with the
shame of humiliation.
When
Saturday, the election day, came, the excitement rose to its
height. An attempt was made to close all the saloons. It was
only partly successful. There was a great deal of drinking
going on all day. The Rectangle boiled and heaved and cursed
and turned its worst side out to the gaze of the city. Gray
had continued his meetings during the week, and the results
had been even greater than he had dared to hope. When
Saturday came, it seemed to him that the crisis in his work
had been reached. The Holy Spirit and the Satan of rum
seemed to rouse up to a desperate conflict. The more
interest in the meetings, the more ferocity and vileness
outside. The saloon men no longer concealed their feelings.
Open threats of violence were made. Once during the week
Gray and his little company of helpers were assailed with
missiles of various kinds as they left the tent late at
night. The police sent down a special force, and Virginia
and Rachel were always under the protection of either Rollin
or Dr. West. Rachel's power in song had not diminished.
Rather, with each night, it seemed to add to the intensity
and reality of the Spirit's presence.
Gray had at
first hesitated about having a meeting that night. But he
had a simple rule of action, and was always guided by it.
The Spirit seemed to lead him to continue the meeting, and
so Saturday night he went on as usual.
The
excitement all over the city had reached its climax when the
polls closed at six o'clock. Never before had there been
such a contest in Raymond. The issue of license or
no-license had never been an issue under such circumstances.
Never before had such elements in the city been arrayed
against each other. It was an unheard-of thing that the
President of Lincoln College, the pastor of the First
Church, the Dean of the Cathedral, the professional men
living in fine houses on the boulevard, should come
personally into the wards, and by their presence and their
example represent the Christian conscience of the place. The
ward politicians were astonished at the sight. However,
their astonishment did not prevent their activity. The fight
grew hotter every hour, and when six o'clock came neither
side could have guessed at the result with any certainty.
Every one agreed that never before had there been such an
election in Raymond, and both sides awaited the announcement
of the result with the greatest interest.
It was after
ten o'clock when the meeting at the tent was closed. It had
been a strange and, in some respects, a remarkable meeting.
Maxwell had come down again at Gray's request. He was
completely worn out by the day's work, but the appeal from
Gray came to him in such a form that he did not feel able to
resist it. President Marsh was also present. He had never
been to the Rectangle, and his curiosity was aroused from
what he had noticed of the influence of the evangelist in
the worst part of the city. Dr. West and Rollin had come
with Rachel and Virginia; and Loreen, who still stayed with
Virginia, was present near the organ, in her right mind,
sober, with a humility and dread of herself that kept her as
close to Virginia as a faithful dog. All through the service
she sat with bowed head, weeping a part of the time, sobbing
when Rachel sang the song, "I was a wandering
sheep," clinging with almost visible, tangible yearning
to the one hope she had found, listening to prayer and
appeal and confession all about her like one who was a part
of a new creation, yet fearful of her right to share in it
fully.
The tent had
been crowded. As on some other occasions, there was more or
less disturbance on the outside. This had increased as the
night advanced, and Gray thought it wise not to prolong the
service.
Once in a
while a shout as from a large crowd swept into the tent. The
returns from the election were beginning to come in, and the
Rectangle had emptied every lodging house, den and hovel
into the streets.
In spite of
these distractions Rachel's singing kept the crowd in the
tent from dissolving. There were a dozen or more
conversions. Finally the people became restless and Gray
closed the service, remaining a little while with the
converts.
Rachel,
Virginia, Loreen, Rollin and the Doctor, President Marsh,
Mr. Maxwell and Dr. West went out together, intending to go
down to the usual waiting place for their car. As they came
out of the tent they were at once aware that the Rectangle
was trembling on the verge of a drunken riot, and as they
pushed through the gathering mobs in the narrow streets they
began to realize that they themselves were objects of great
attention.
"There
he is--the bloke in the tall hat! He's the leader! shouted a
rough voice. President Marsh, with his erect, commanding
figure, was conspicuous in the little company.
"How
has the election gone? It is too early to know the result
yet, isn't it?" He asked the question aloud, and a man
answered:
"They
say second and third wards have gone almost solid for
no-license. If that is so, the whiskey men have been
beaten."
"Thank
God! I hope it is true!" exclaimed Maxwell.
"Marsh, we are in danger here. Do you realize our
situation? We ought to get the ladies to a place of
safety."
"That
is true," said Marsh gravely. At that moment a shower
of stones and other missiles fell over them. The narrow
street and sidewalk in front of them was completely choked
with the worst elements of the Rectangle.
"This
looks serious," said Maxwell. With Marsh and Rollin and
Dr. West he started to go forward through a small opening,
Virginia, Rachel, and Loreen following close and sheltered
by the men, who now realized something of their danger. The
Rectangle was drunk and enraged. It saw in Marsh and Maxwell
two of the leaders in the election contest which had perhaps
robbed them of their beloved saloon.
"Down
with the aristocrats!" shouted a shrill voice, more
like a woman's than a man's. A shower of mud and stones
followed. Rachel remembered afterwards that Rollin jumped
directly in front of her and received on his head and chest
a number of blows that would probably have struck her if he
had not shielded her from them.
And just
then, before the police reached them, Loreen darted forward
in front of Virginia and pushed her aside, looking up and
screaming. It was so sudden that no one had time to catch
the face of the one who did it. But out of the upper window
of a room, over the very saloon where Loreen had come out a
week before, someone had thrown a heavy bottle. It struck
Loreen on the head and she fell to the ground. Virginia
turned and instantly kneeled down by her. The police
officers by that time had reached the little company.
President
Marsh raised his arm and shouted over the howl that was
beginning to rise from the wild beast in the mob.
"Stop!
You've killed a woman!" The announcement partly sobered
the crowd.
"Is it
true?" Maxwell asked it, as Dr. West kneeled on the
other side of Loreen, supporting her.
"She's
dying!" said Dr. West briefly.
Loreen
opened her eyes and smiled at Virginia, who wiped the blood
from her face and then bent over and kissed her. Loreen
smiled again, and the next minute her soul was in Paradise.
