All He Knew | Page 7

can stand by my only friend."
"Deacon ain't no friend o' yourn," whispered the trembling woman in
reply.
"I'm not talkin' about the deacon, Nan. Don't, go back on me. You're
my wife, Nan; you don't know what that means to me now,--you reelly
don't."
Mrs. Kimper stared, then she almost smiled.
"I mean it, Nan," whispered the man.
Mrs. Kimper rummaged for a moment in the drawers of a dilapidated
bureau, and finally folded a red handkerchief and tied it over her head.
"Good!" said the deacon, who had been watching the couple closely.
"We'll go around by the back way, so nobody'll see either of you, if you
don't want them to. I'll take Samuel along with me, and you can drop in
wherever you think best, Mrs. Kimper. I'm not going back on any man
who is going to turn over a new leaf. Come along."
CHAPTER IV.
The church at which Deacon Quickset worshipped was not large, nor

was it ever well filled when prayer and experience were the only
attractions. When Sam Kimper entered, however, the place seemed so
immense and the throng so great that nothing but the bulk of the deacon,
which had been prudently placed in the rear of the new convert, kept
him from turning about and escaping into the darkness. Even when
placed in a seat the outer end of which was occupied by the deacon, the
frightened man cast his eyes appealingly towards his keeper,--for such
was the relation he felt the deacon bore towards him. Finally he slipped
slowly along the seat and whispered,--
"Deacon, I can't speak; I can't think of a word to say. It's a shame to
have a fellow like me talkin' to good church-members about what they
know more about than him."
"You'll have to acknowledge Him before men, Samuel, if you expect
Him to acknowledge you."
"Well, I hain't any objections to ownin' up to ev'rybody I know. Didn't I
tell you an' the judge? Didn't I tell Nan and the children? I ain't seen
anybody else yet, or I'd told them too. But I can't say nothin' to a crowd
like this; I don't know how."
"He'll give you words, Samuel, if you've got the right heart in you."
"Is that a dead-sure thing?"
"Certainly."
Further argument and protest were ended by the formal opening of the
meeting. It appeared to the deacon that the first hymn was sung with
more sound and spirit than usual, and on looking around he saw the
cause: it was literally a "packed house,"--the first one the church had
ever known on a prayer-meeting night. The deacon immediately let his
own voice out a little more, for he felt personally complimented by the
large attendance. He had told a number of persons of Sam's conversion
and of his own intention to have the man "put himself on record" before
a number of witnesses; evidently this word had gone about and caused
the great gathering.

Prayers, hymns, and short speeches and confessions succeeded one
another for a little while, and the deacon, glancing aside frequently,
saw his charge look more and more uncomfortable, helpless, and
insignificant as the exercises continued. This would not do; should the
fellow become thoroughly frightened, he might not be able to say
anything; this would be disappointing to the assemblage, and somewhat
humiliating to him who had announced the special attraction of the
evening. Sam's opportunity must come at once; he, the deacon, did not
doubt that his own long experience in introducing people to the public
in his capacity of chairman of the local lecture committee would enable
him to present Sam in a manner which would strengthen the weak
knees and lift up the feeble heart.
"Brethren," said the deacon, arising during the closing cadence of a
hymn, "the consolations of our blessed religion often reach a man in
most unexpected ways, and we have among us to-night a living
example of it. One of our fellow-citizens who left us, against his will, I
may say, about two years ago, found the pearl of great price in the cell
of a prison. He has come here to-night to testify to the hope that is
within him. He feels that he is weak and halting of speech, but, blessed
be the spirit of our Master, that makes all of us brothers, it does not
take eloquence or superfluity of words to let out anything that the heart
is full of. I ask the attention and sympathy of all present for our brother
Samuel Kimper."
As the deacon sat down he put his powerful arm under the shoulder of
his companion, and Sam Kimper found himself upon his feet. The
frightened man looked down at the cushion of the seat in front of