Off-Hand Sketches | Page 3

Odell.
"I know that; but truth is truth. However, you must see and judge for
yourself. I think you had better go to the house of sister Russell, who
will welcome you with all her heart, and give you the best she has."
"And I want no more," said the preacher.
After getting precise directions for finding sister Russell, he started on

his journey. It was nearly five o'clock, and he made his calculation to
reach sister Russell's by seven, where he would remain all night, and go
with her to the preaching-place on Sunday morning. He had not,
however, been half an hour on his journey, before heavy masses of
deep blue clouds began to roll up from the horizon and spread over the
sky; and ere he had accomplished half the distance he was going, large
drops of rain began to fall, as the beginning of a heavy storm. The
preacher was constrained to turn aside and seek the shelter of a
farm-house, where he was received with much kindness.
Night-fall brought no abatement of the tempest. The lightning still
blazed out in broad masses of fire, the thunder jarred and rattled amid
the clouds like parks of artillery, and the rain continued to pour down
unceasingly. The invitation to remain all night, which the farmer and
his wife tendered in all sincerity, was not, of course, declined by the
preacher.
In the morning, after being served with a plentiful breakfast, Odell
returned his warmest thanks for the kindness he had received, and
proceeded on his journey. He had five miles to ride; but it was only
half-past eight o'clock when he started, and as the hour for preaching
was ten, there was plenty of time for him to proceed at his leisure. As
sister Russell lived nearly a mile away from a direct course, he did not
turn aside to call upon her, but went on to the meeting-house. On
reaching the little country church, Mr. Odell found a small company of
men assembled in front of the humble building, who looked at him
curiously, and with something of shyness in their manner, as he rode up
and dismounted. No one offering to take his horse, he led him aside to a
little grove and tied the reins to a tree. One or two of the men nodded,
distantly, as he passed them on his way to the meeting-house door, but
none of them spoke to him.
On entering the meeting-house, Mr. Odell found some thirty persons
assembled, most of them women. If there were any "official members"
present, they made themselves in no way officious in regard to the
preacher, who, after pausing at the door leading into the little altar or
chancel for a short time, and looking around with an expression of
inquiry on his face, ascended the pulpit-stairs and took his seat. All was
as silent, almost, as if the house had been tenantless.
In a little while, the preacher arose and gave out a hymn; but there was

no one to raise the tune. One looked at another uneasily; sundry
persons coughed and cleared their throats, but all remained silent. Odell
was not much of a singer, but had practised on "Old Hundred" so much,
that he could lead that air very well; and the hymn happening, by good
luck, to be set to a long-metre tune, he was able to start it. This done,
the congregation joined in, and the singing went off pretty well. After
praying and reading a chapter in the Bible, Odell sat down to collect his
thoughts for the sermon, which was, of course, to be extempore, as
Methodist sermons usually are. It is customary for the choir, if there is
one, to sing an anthem during this pause; or, where no singers are set
apart, for some members to strike up an appropriate hymn, in which the
congregation joins. On this occasion, all was silent. After the lapse of a
few minutes, Mr. Odell arose, and turning, in the Bible, to the chapter
where the text, from which he was to preach, was recorded, read the
verse that was to form the groundwork of his remarks. Before opening
the subject, he stated, briefly, that he was the preacher who was to
labour among them during the ensuing year, and hoped, in the Divine
Providence, that good, both to them and to him, would result from the
new spiritual relations that were about to be commenced. Then
proceeding with his discourse, he preached to and exhorted them with
great earnestness, but without seeming to make any impression. Not an
"amen" was heard from any part of the house; not an eye grew moist;
not an audible groan or sigh disturbed the air. Nothing responded to his
appeals but the