kep him down to it all I
could, "Ralph S. Robinson has spread the Gospel over acres and acres of
land, and brung in droves and droves of sinners into the fold without
the help of church or steeple, let alone bells, and it seems es if he
ortn't to be tortured to death now by 'em."
"Wall," he said, "he viewed 'em as Gospel means, and he couldn't, with
his present views of his duty to the Lord, omit 'em."
Sez I, "The Lord didn't use 'em. He got along without 'em."
"Wall," he said, "it wuz different times now."
Sez I, "The Lord, if He wuz here to-day, Deacon Garven, if He had bent
over that form racked with pain and sufferin' and that noise of any kind
is murderous to, He would help him, I know He would, for He wuz good to
the sick, and tender hearted always."
"Wall, _I_ will help him," sez Deacon Garven, "I will watch, and I will
pray, and I will work for him."
Sez I, "Will you promise me not to ring the bells to-morrow mornin'; if
he gets into any sleep at all durin' the 24 hours, it is along in the
mornin', and I think if we could keep him asleep, say all the forenoon,
there would be a chance for him. Will you promise me?"
"Wall," sez he kinder meltin' down a little, "I will talk with the
bretheren."
Sez I, "Promise me, Deacon Eben Garven, before you see 'em."
Sez he, "I would, but I am so afraid of bringin' the Cause of Religeon
into contempt. And I dread meddlin' with the old established rules of
the church."
Sez I, "Mercy and justice and pity wuz set up on earth before bells wuz,
and I believe it is safe to foller 'em."
But he wouldn't promise me no further than to talk with the bretheren,
and I had to leave him with that promise. As things turned out
afterwuds, I wuz sorry, sorry es a dog that I didn't shet up Deacon
Garven in his own smoke house, or cause him to be shet, and mount a
guard over him, armed nearly to the teeth with clubs.
But I didn't, and I relied some on the bretheren.
Ralph wuz dretful wild all the forepart of the night. He'd lay still for
a few minutes, and then he would get all rousted up, and he would set up
in bed and call out some words in that strange tongue. And he would lift
up his poor weak right arm, strong then in his fever, and preach long
sermons in that same strange curius language. He would preach his sermon
right through, earnest and fervent as any sermon ever wuz. I would know
it by the looks of his face. And then he would sometimes sing a little
in that
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