There was not much to do at the store, but the loungers cared little for that. The weather was cold for Maryland; there had even been a little snow, and Chesapeake Bay was filled with ice. There was no horse racing, no cockfighting, no shipwreck; so naturally the idlers in this part of Kent Island drifted to the rum store.

It was the place where all the vile and the lazy were used to meeting. Merica's tavern in the town was a temperance place, something not very often found in those days. Men could get no rum or whisky there; so the keeper of this little crossroads store, two miles out in the country, had found it paid to keep the wicked stuff for men to drink.

There were flabby old men there, and blear-eyed sots, and boys from whose cheeks and eyes ruin had not yet wholly driven away the freshness. And they gathered around the cracked stove, sitting on casks and kegs and the remains of a chair or two, or lounging on the long, bare wooden counter; and every once in awhile, urged by their false thirst or by the liquor dealer's voice, they stopped to drink down the fiery West Indian rum or the cheaper corn whisky of their own land.

Very soon the talk turned upon the two "Millerites" who they had heard were coming to preach the end of the world. They hooted at the idea; and the more afraid of it one was, the more boastingly he talked, just as a scary boy, going through a graveyard in the dark of night, whistles to make everyone think he's not afraid. But as they drank deeper and talked louder, they grew wilder, and began to threaten what they would do to the men who had come to tell them what they didn't want to hear. And at last, among them, they hatched a plot to catch the preachers, tar and feather them, and ride them on a rail to the bay, or as far as the mob might feel like going.

News of their plot floated out on the wings of rumor to Merica's tavern, where the two preachers had arrived the night before. As the drunken fellows lurched up to the tavern, they found a large crowd outside, discussing the message that these men were supposed to be bringing. None there were ready to stand up for it, and they only vied with one another in seeing who could deride it most.

Besides, they said, these Millerites were black-hearted Abolitionists, who had come down from New England to get away the slaves of the Southerners, and make trouble generally. You know in that time nearly all the black people in our country were slaves, who worked for their masters all their lives, and got no pay, only they were given a home and their food and clothing. Some of the masters were very kind to their slaves, and their slaves loved them. But of course there were many bad men, too, who owned slaves, and they acted toward their slaves very much as some children I have known act toward their pet birds and animals. You know these animals are our slaves. And if a boy kicks his dog and pounds and scolds his horse, and if a little girl forgets to keep her birdcage clean and sweet, or to give food and water to her chickens, how do you think our slaves feel? What kind of slave-master do you think such a boy or girl would have made?

But of course God never meant a man or a woman to be a slave. Some good people didn't realize this then, and some people who did realize it didn't want to give up the slaves; for they would lose money if they should. And so most of the slave-masters were afraid to have their slaves learn anything about liberty; that is, about being free. And they feared that if the slaves heard Jesus was coming and would set them free, they would all break out and do terrible things even before He did come. So from some places where the ministers had been to preach, the slave-owners had driven them out.

An Abolitionist was one who knew slavery was wrong and believed it ought to be stopped. Some of them did very rash and wrong things in trying to get it stopped and to have the slaves set free, but they were nearly all honest and very good men, nevertheless, who were stirred up by the wrongs the slaves had to endure.

The mob for the time fell apart, pushing and sidling their way through the crowd. One of them brought up at last near where two men were discussing the matter. One, a Mr. Kent, was making fun of the message, and declaring that the men who preached it were crazy or else fools. Any man, he declared, could show its foolishness in a minute. But Doctor Harper was not so sure. "Wait and see," was all he answered. Mr. Kent, however, would not wait, but went on ridiculing the idea that Jesus was coming soon.

The drunken man at his elbow was sympathetic. This was what he liked to hear. "We’ll settle 'em, Kent," he exclaimed, familiarly; " got a hunerd of us here as'll tar an' feather 'em."

Mr. Kent turned to look at his helper, turned and stared, and turned back again without a word. He wasn't seeking for such help, he thought. This sort was below him, but he would settle 'em himself when they came to preach.

Just then from within the tavern came a clear baritone voice singing:

0 sweet are the tidings that greet the pilgrim's ear,

As he wanders in exile from home!

Soon, soon will the Saviour in glory appear,

And soon will the kingdom come."

At that the crowd began pushing their way into the hall of the tavern. The singer soon stopped, and sat down, and a tall man, straight as an Indian, stood up to speak. His clear blue eye, fearless, commanding, yet with a kindness that made it mild, passed slowly over the crowd and stilled them into quiet.

"What's his name?" whispered a man who found himself next the tavern keeper.

"Captain Bates," replied Mr. Merica. "He was shipwrecked near my father's when I was a boy. Mother knew him first she laid eyes on him."

Joseph Bates had begun to speak. He was quoting some Scripture which many didn't catch, for there was yet a little confusion, and most eyes, besides, were fixed upon a chart hanging behind him, on which were printed in black and gold and red, pictures of strange beasts and a crowned man with arms folded. They wanted to hear about that, and very soon they heard, for Bates began to tell them of the prophecies of Daniel, the image of gold, silver, brass, iron, and clay that Nebuchadnezzar saw, and Daniel's vision of the beasts that mean Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece, and Rome. And through the eighth and ninth chapters he brought them, and showed them how, as he believed, since the sanctuary would be cleansed in 1843 or 1844, the Lord Jesus would come at that time, and that was only a few months away. He pleaded with them all to get ready to meet Jesus.

Many were deeply moved by what he said, but Mr. Kent was not. No sooner was the lecture finished than he rose and began to abuse the speaker and the message. "I can put it all down in ten minutes," he shouted.

Joseph Bates, who was still standing up, in that straight, strong way of his, said quietly, "We will hear you."

So he fried to prove it all wrong, but of course, since he was all wrong himself, he couldn't do very well, and pretty soon he became confused and stopped. But that only made him angry; and, ready now to take the help of the fellows he had scorned before, he looked around for their support, and declared, "We'll ride you out of town on a rail." He thought he would scare those preachers.

But Bates smiled and said pleasantly, "We’re all ready for that, sir. If you'll put a saddle on it, we had rather ride than walk."

The man looked around again, but he saw only smiling faces or shamed faces; for no one could do anything dreadful to a man who took it all as a joke. Then Bates said to him seriously, "You must not think we have come six hundred miles through the snow and ice, at our own expense, to lecture to you, without first sitting down and counting the cost. And now, if the Lord has no more for us to do, we had as lief lie at the bottom of Chesapeake Bay as anywhere else, until the Lord comes. But if He has any more work for us to do, you can't touch us."

Up leaped Dr. Harper. "You know better, Kent," he said; "you ought to be ashamed of yourself. This man has been giving us the truth from the Bible, and I believe it." And immediately others began to show how they sided with the preachers; and the mob from the rum store and the men like Mr. Kent had no chance to do the mean and cowardly things they had planned to do.

Mr. Gurney stood up and sang some more hymns, and Joseph Bates sang with him. Wonderful power those advent hymns had in those days, and many there were after the singing who came up to ask the ministers to pray with them and for them.

The Negro slaves were very anxious to hear, and at meetings in other places, later than this, they would come when their masters would let them; and after the white people had taken their places, the slaves would crowd in, making a black fringe all around the outside. They were wonderfully pleased with the advent songs Mr. Gurney sang. Here is one they especially delighted in:

"I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night;
Do not detain me, for I am going
To where the fountains are ever flowing.
I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.

"There's the city to which I journey;
My Redeemer, my Redeemer is its light!
There is no sorrow, nor any sighing,
Nor any tears there, nor any dying.
I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night."

When they preached at Chestertown, an aged black man followed them after the meeting to their lodging place, to beg for a copy of that song. Mr. Gurney had only one, and he couldn't give it up.

"I'll give you a quarter for it," said the poor fellow,—probably all the money he had in the world. At last Mr. Gurney made him a copy, and he went away with it delighted.

Often after the service Bates and Gurney would talk with the slaves, who had to wait until all the white people had passed out.

"Could you hear what was said?" they were asked.

"Yes, massa, ebery word," they answered.

"Do you believe?"

"Yes, massa, b'leve it all."

"Don't you want some tracts?"

"Yes, massa "

"But can you read?"

"No, massa, but young missus or massa's son will read for us."

And they took the tracts that told of the signs of Jesus' coming, so not only they, but their masters who read to them, received the message. And they looked with joy for Jesus to come, when they should be set free. There were true Christians among them, for some of the Christian slave-owners had been faithful in teaching their servants about Jesus; and many of these poor black people by their lives put to shame the white people who did not so well as they. Do you think the Lord loved them, though oftentimes they went in rags, and though they knew only a little of the truth? And will He remember them when He comes to raise His children from the dead?

During their stay in the South, Bates and Gurney found many who believed the truth they were preaching. Some of the slave-owners believed and were so anxious to have their slaves hear that they commanded them all to come, every single one. Men who had been infidels and Universalists acknowledged they were wrong and that the Bible was right, and they turned to get ready for the Lord. So a great awakening occurred in that part of Maryland. And this is an example of the way the work went in the South.

<Back>  <Next>