‘Well, sir,’ said the senior deacon, ‘we have not all the same gifts; some can pray in public, others can’t. But you need not have kept away from the meetin’ on that account.’
‘Well,’ said Wentworth, ‘the truth was, I had intended to be there, but I went to the Chartist meeting instead.’
‘So it seems, sir. You had not been there long before we all heard of it. The news was over the town in a very little while. I own it quite took away my breath.’
‘Which I am glad to find you have recovered by this time,’ said the minister gaily. ‘I was not only there, but I made a speech.’
‘So I heard, sir,’ said the deacon. ‘I suppose you think human applause more precious than seeking a blessing on the means of grace. We, however, who did go, had a blessed opportunity. We remembered you, sir, thought it seems you forgot us.’
‘Well, I think I was in the path of duty, nevertheless.’
‘Indeed, sir,’ said the deacon in a very unpleasant tone of voice. ‘How do you make that out?’
‘Well, according to my idea. Chartism means something, good or bad, and I thought I would go and see what it meant. It seemed to me that the poor fellows had a good deal of bad advice given them, and I thought I would try and give them a little better. Their grievances are many, and so are the wrongs which they have to bear. You know that it is in consequence of the little sympathy that is shown them by the Churches of all denominations these people are getting not only to disbelieve Christianity, but to hate its very name. It seemed to me that it was right that I should tell them as best I could how they were mistaken in thus judging the Church. We are losing the people, and then we call them infidels, and all that is bad. I say, instead of doing this, we should seek to win them by showing them how the Church is with them in their struggle for their rights. If we are Christians, our Christianity should display itself in our political life.’
‘Well,’ said the deacon with pride, ‘all I can say is that our late minister never attended a political meeting in his life.’
‘I am sorry to hear it,’ said Mr. Wentworth.
‘Yes, sir,’ continued the deacon, not noticing the interruption, ‘and he died universally respected. He never made an enemy. He was all things to all men. Every Christmas morning and Good Friday he went to church, and it was quite beautiful to see how humble and happy he looked. “I never interfere in politics,” said he. “I am come here to preach the Gospel. I am not going to impair my usefulness by becoming a political partisan.” I am sure,’ continued the deacon, ‘if he had forgotten this, and attended a Chartist meeting, we should never have got the money from the gentry we did, when we had the old meeting-house done up.’