STRANGER PREACHER

One Thursday in June, several years later, Major Gilcrest was returning
from a business trip which had called him to a distant county. His road
led him by a little log schoolhouse on the banks of Shanklin Creek.
Here he found a meeting in progress in the locust grove surrounding the
schoolhouse.

When last he had been through this region, the little school building
had been used occasionally as a Presbyterian meeting-house, there being
no church building in the neighborhood. Accordingly, Gilcrest, thinking
this a meeting of brethren of his own faith and order, tied his horse
to a sapling, and, joining the congregation in the grove, sat down on a
log not far from the speaker's stand, just as a minister was finishing
his discourse. When he had concluded, a man who seemed to be the
moderator of the meeting rose to speak.

"We are sorry indeed to announce that our beloved Brother Elgood, who
was next to have addressed us, is providentially hindered from being
here to-day. This is a great disappointment; for we who know how
powerful and eloquent Brother Elgood is, had hoped to be greatly
edified by his discourse. It still lacks an hour and ten minutes to
noon; and while we await the time for dinner to be spread in the
grounds, another brother, a stranger from a distant part of the State,
will speak." Thereupon, a tall, ungainly man of about forty years rose
from a seat at the back of the platform and came forward. He was clad
in copperas-dyed jeans trousers, ill-fitting cotton coat, and homespun
shirt. He wore neither stock nor waistcoat, his trousers were baggy and
too short for his long legs, and his cowhide shoes were covered with
dust. His face was pale, his eyes deep set, his hair long and
straggling, shoulders stooping, form gaunt to emaciation. The
moderator's mode of introduction had not been one to reassure a timid
man, nor to prepossess an audience favorably toward a speaker. The
stranger came forward with ungraceful hesitation, and stood silently
facing his audience. The people stared an instant at the uncouth
figure; some laughed, and many turned to leave the auditorium, thinking
that a stroll about the grounds, chatting with friends, would be a more
agreeable pastime until lunch was served than to sit before this
awkward fellow.

Suddenly the stranger regained self-possession, and, drawing his figure
up to its full height, he pointed a long forefinger at a group of
people standing near