Just then we turned a corner, and the maligned chapel certainly burst into view “all to once.”
The first thing to attract attention, as we neared the modest building, was a large board above the front entrance, displaying the words “Revival Meetings” in bold white letters pasted on a red turkey twill background.
A hymn was progressing when we entered; a seat had been reserved for the cottager by her husband, and had been left in charge of his hat (turned upside down and holding a red pocket-handkerchief covered with large white spots), while he himself distributed hymn books with backs all suffering from spinal complaint in a more or less acute form.
By dint of energetic compression on the part of the good-natured occupants of the pew, room was made for me as well as for my companion, the owner of the hat electing to stand in the aisle, as became a pillar of the church; the conspicuous crease adorning each trouser-leg and the back of his black coat proclaimed them his best clothes, and gave additional evidence that the meeting was of more than ordinary weekday importance.
The place was packed to its utmost capacity. I decided that I had never in my whole life heard a harmonium more asthmatically out of tune and at the same time I wished that the lamps (which were economically turned down, daylight being still visible) could only be raised, since the odour of paraffin was not a refreshing ingredient to add to the air of the already close room. For on our hills, as in other places where fresh air is most abundant, ventilation is the least among the virtues practised by the natives.
The congregation took some slight adjustment before all managed to wedge themselves into the seats after the hymn. The general shuffle and scuffle having subsided, a man on the platform addressed the assembly.
“I am sorry to say our brother has not yet arrived.”
The glow of expectancy on the faces of the people suddenly vanished.
“We think he has made a mistake over the time of commencement; possibly he imagines it is seven instead of six o’clock; but he is certainly coming, or he would have telegraphed——”
The disappointed ones looked hopeful again.
“Two friends have driven off to meet him”—many heads craned round in the direction of the door, though the honoured pair were now a couple of miles away—“and they will doubtless bring him along as quickly as possible. I think we may safely rely on him being here in about half an hour.” All eyes now scanned the face of the clock. “In the meanwhile, we will hold a short Testimony meeting; and perhaps Brother Wilson will first of all lead us in prayer.”