An Uncertain Convert

A TALL gaunt man with a black beard
And a greenish clerical coat
Had dropped from the unknown into the Borough.
He had settled himself at Widow Pray’s
And started a week of revival meetings at the schoolhouse.
He had found the field so ripe for the harvest
And the Widow’s cooking so satisfactory
That he continued the meetings into the second week.

He had labored especially with Old Man Stubbs.
Stubbs was a meek man.
Only a few times a year did he remind the Borough
That he was there.
When his cider was sufficiently hard
He would cast off his shell and become a new being —
Often to the discomfort of his neighbors.

It was after one of these outbreaks that the revivalist
Undertook to save the sinner’s soul.
Stubbs had attended several meetings.
Toward the close of one of the last ones
He felt moved to testify.
He arose and lifted his quavering voice.
‘When I go out t’ fetch m’ cows
I feel th’ Lord a-follerin’ me.
When I drive ’em down the lane
I feel th’ Lord helpin’ drive ’em.
When I go into th’ haymow
I kin hear Him rustlin’ round in th’ hay.’
He stopped and looked around bewildered.
‘Er mebbe that’s jest th’ rats ’n mice. . . .
I dunno. . . .’
And he dropped into his seat and bowed his head.