Dr Heidenhoffs Process

Dr Heidenhoff's Process

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dr. Heidenhoff's Process, by Edward
Bellamy #3 in our series by Edward Bellamy
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Title: Dr. Heidenhoff's Process
Author: Edward Bellamy
Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7052] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 2,
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Edition: 10

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DR.
HEIDENHOFF'S PROCESS ***

This eBook was prepared by Malcolm Farmer

DR. HEIDENHOFF'S PROCESS
BY
EDWARD BELLAMY

CHAPTER I.
The hand of the clock fastened up on the white wall of the conference
room, just over the framed card bearing the words "Stand up for Jesus,"
and between two other similar cards, respectively bearing the sentences
"Come unto Me," and "The Wonderful, the Counsellor," pointed to ten
minutes of nine. As was usual at this period of Newville
prayer-meetings, a prolonged pause had supervened. The regular
standbyes had all taken their usual part, and for any one to speak or
pray would have been about as irregular as for one of the regulars to
fail in doing so. For the attendants at Newville prayer-meetings were
strictly divided into the two classes of speakers and listeners, and,
except during revivals or times of special interest, the distinction was
scrupulously observed.
Deacon Tuttle had spoken and prayed, Deacon Miller had prayed and
spoken, Brother Hunt had amplified a point in last Sunday's sermon,
Brother Taylor had called attention to a recent death in the village as a
warning to sinners, and Sister Morris had prayed twice, the second time
it must be admitted, with a certain perceptible petulance of tone, as if
willing to have it understood that she was doing more than ought to be
expected of her. But while it was extremely improbable that any others
of the twenty or thirty persons assembled would feel called on to break

the silence, though it stretched to the crack of doom, yet, on the other
hand, to close the meeting before the mill bell bad struck nine would
have been regarded as a dangerous innovation. Accordingly, it only
remained to wait in decorous silence during the remaining ten minutes.
The clock ticked on with that judicial intonation characteristic of
time-pieces that measure sacred time and wasted opportunities. At
intervals the pastor, with an innocent affectation of having just
observed the silence, would remark: "There is yet opportunity. . . . .
Time is passing, brethren. . . . . Any brother or sister. . . . . We shall be
glad to hear from any one." Farmer Bragg, tired with his day's hoeing,
snored quietly in the corner of a seat. Mrs. Parker dropped a
hymn-book. Little Tommy Blake, who had fallen over while napping
and hit his nose, snivelled under his breath. Madeline Brand, as she sat
at the melodeon below the minister's desk, stifled a small yawn with
her pretty fingers. A June bug boomed through the open window and
circled around Deacon Tuttle's head, affecting that good man with the
solicitude characteristic of bald-headed persons when buzzing things
are about. Next it made a dive at Madeline, attracted, perhaps, by her
shining eyes, and the little gesture of panic with which she evaded it
was the prettiest thing in the world; at least, so it seemed to Henry Burr,
a broad-shouldered young fellow on the back seat, whose strong,
serious face is just now lit up by a pleasant smile.
Mr. Lewis, the minister, being seated directly under the clock, cannot
see it without turning around, wherein the audience has an advantage of
him, which it makes full use of. Indeed, so closely is the general
attention concentrated upon the time-piece, that a stranger might draw
the mistaken inference that this was the object for whose worship the
little company bad gathered. Finally, making a slight concession of
etiquette to curiosity, Mr. Lewis turns and looks