xt76t14tj424 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt76t14tj424/data/mets.xml Obenchain, Eliza Caroline Calvert. 1916  books b92-42-26783481 English Little Brown, : Boston : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Clover and blue grass  / by Eliza Calvert Hall [pseud] ; with a frontispiece by H.R. Ballinger. text Clover and blue grass  / by Eliza Calvert Hall [pseud] ; with a frontispiece by H.R. Ballinger. 1916 2002 true xt76t14tj424 section xt76t14tj424 


















CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS

 















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AUNT JANE OF KENTUCKY
THE LAND OF LONG AGO
CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS
TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH
A BOOK OF HAND-WOVEN
  COVERLETS

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I lw cud a anfiid wortd o hak mo00ther forgvnimu
  hert daughff f ter  I00I51Ei 0See t00 page i -J   tS.

 


IC LOVERANDI
BLUE GRASS
        A i
 Eliza Cvert Hall
    MdM  a forots ee bt7
    H. R.Ballinger



      Bost-on
 Little Bmww Copay 4
       1916    w

 



















       Copyright, 1916,
B-v LIDA CALVERT OBENCHAIN.


      All rights reserved


 Published, September, 1916

 

















        TO

  MARTHA CALVERT
        AND
VAL CALVERT WINSTON

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                CONTENTS

                                          PAGE
HOW PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS             1
MARY CRAWFORD'S CHART        .          .  33
OLD MAHOGANY             .              .  91
MILLSTONES AND STUMBLING-BLOCKS  .      . 115
"ONE TASTE OF THE OLD TIE "             . 157
ONE DAY IN SPRING          .            . 207

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HOW PARSON PAGE WENT TO
         THE CIRCUS
     (The last of the " Aunt Jane " stories)

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"   HEAR there's goin' to be a circus in town next
week," said Aunt Jane, "and if it wasn't for the
looks of the thing, jest for the sake of old times, I'd
like to go to town and stand on the old drug-store
corner and watch the procession go 'round the square,
like me and Abram used to do in the days when we
was young and the children growin' up around us."
  She broke off with a laugh relevant to some happy
thought.
  "I never see a show bill," she said, "that I don't
think o' the time Parson Page went to the circus.
Times has changed so, I reckon a preacher could go
to a circus nowadays and little or nothin' be said of
it. I ricollect the last time the circus come to town
Uncle Billy Bascom says to me, says he: 'Jane, they
tell me the church members and their children was

This story, the nineteenth and last of the "Aunt Jane" stories,
appeared in the Cosmopolitan, July 1910, after the publication of
The Land of Long Ago. Its publication in this present volume eom-
pletes the set of stories told by " Aunt Jane of Kentucky."
                           3

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



so thick in that tent to-day that you could 'a' held
a meetin' of the session right there and organized a
Sunday school of any denomination whatever.' But
in my day all a church member or a church member's
children could do on circus day was to stand on the
street and watch the procession; and as for a minister,
why, it wasn't hardly considered fittin' for him to
even go a-fishin', much less go to a circus. Folks
used to say a good many hard things about Parson
Page for bein' so fond of fishin', but there wasn't
anything that could keep him away from the river
when spring come and the fish begun to bite. And
when folks begun tellin' tales about the fishin' in
Reelfoot Lake, Parson Page never rested till he got there.
  " I reckon, honey, you know all about Reelfoot
Lake" Aunt Jane looked questioningly at me
over her glasses and waited for my answer.
  "Why, yes, it's a big lake where all the men go to
fish," I answered hesitatingly.
  The vagueness of my answer was a sure indication
of shameful ignorance, and Aunt Jane shook her
head disapprovingly.
  "There's somethin' wrong with the schoolin' of
children nowadays," she said gravely. "Knowin'
                        4

 



PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



what I do about Reelfoot Lake, it looks to me like
the folks that make the geography books for children
ought to put that lake down on the map in big letters
and then tell all about it. Why, child, there ain't
but one Reelfoot Lake in all the world, and every
child ought to be able to tell all the hows and the
wheres and the whens that concerns it. Schoolin's
a mighty good thing, but every now and then there's
somethin' you can't learn out o' books, and you've
got to come to some old man like Uncle Billy Bascom
or some old woman like me that can ricollect away
back yonder. Not but what it's all hearsay with
me, when it comes to Reelfoot Lake, for that was
before my day; but many's the time I've heard
father and Uncle Tandy Stevens tell about it.
  "Father used to say that when God created the
world in six days, lie forgot to make Reelfoot Lake,
and when he finally did remember it, after goodness
knows how many thousand years, he was so put out
he didn't think about it bein' Sunday, and he jest
ripped up the earth and made that lake as quick as
he could. I've heard father name the day o' the
month it happened, but like as not, if I tried to tell
it jest so, I'd git it wrong. However, I ricollect it
                        5

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



was back yonder in 1811, before the time o' railroads,
and it must 'a' been about the middle o' December,
for I ricollect hearin' father say that him and Uncle
Tandy Stevens spent that Christmas on their flat-
boat in the middle o' the Mississippi River. They
made the trip to New Orleens pretty near every
year, floatin' down the Mississippi and sellin' their
tobacco or hoop-poles or whatever they had to sell,
and then they'd sell the flatboat and foot it back to
Kentucky.
  "Maybe you think, child, I'm drawin' the long
bow, tellin' about people walkin' from New Orleens
to Kentucky, but that's the way it was in the old
times before they had railroads everywhere. And
it wasn't such a slow way of travelin', either. Father
used to brag how he made the journey in jest thirteen
days and a half. I reckon betwixt the dangers by
land and the dangers by water a journey like that
wasn't any light matter, but I've heard father say
many a time that if the river wasn't too high or too
low, and if the weather favored him, he'd rather go
down to New Orleens in a flatboat than to go on the
finest steamboat that ever was built. You know
that Bible text that says, 'Behold, I make all things
                        6

 



PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



new.' Father said that text would come into his
mind every time he went on one o' these trips. They'd
float down the Little Barren River and come to the
Ohio, and down that to the Mississippi, and father
said when they'd make the turn and feel the current
o' the big river under 'em sweepin' 'em south, away
from home and into a strange country, it was jest
like a man professin' religion and goin' forward to a
new and better life. And the slaves they'd take
along to help manage the boat, they'd begin to sing
'Swing low, sweet chariot, bound for to carry me
home,' and Uncle Tandy, he'd jest throw up his hat
and holler every time.
  "Well, the time I'm tellin' you about, father and
Uncle Tandy had a big load o' tobacco and a big
drove o' turkeys to take down to New Orleens.
Father said that every time he built a flatboat and
loaded it up he thought about Noah and the ark, and
this time, when he started down Barren River, it was
cloudy and threatenin' rain, and the next day it begun
showerin' and then clearin' off and then showerin'
again, more like April than December. But when
they struck the Ohio they found jest the right sort
o' weather for flatboat journeyin', clear and frosty
                        7

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



at night and sunshiny all day; and they'd been floatin'
along all day and a good part of every night, as they
was in a hurry to git to New Orleens and sell their
tobacco before prices fell.
  "Well, the night o' the earthquake, father said
it was his time to sit up and watch the fire and guide
the boat, and he was glad of it; for he said there
wasn't anything as peaceful and happy as the nights
he'd spend on the river. With the moon and the
stars over him and the big river under him it was
like bein' in the hollow of God's hand. That night
he was pretty busy up to twelve o'clock, lookin' out
for snags and dangerous places; but about one o'clock
they'd got to a place where he knew the channel was
safe, and he was sittin' down leanin' against a pile
o' tobacco and half dozin' when all at once he heard
a rumblin' like thunder, and not a sign o' rain in the
sky, and then a noise like the noise o' many waters,
and the big waves begun lappin' around the boat,
and the first thing father knew the boat was goin'
up-stream faster than it ever had gone down. Uncle
Tandy was wide awake by this time, and he called
out to father to know what had happened, and father
says: 'God only knows what's happened! The
                         8

 



PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



Mississippi River's flowin' north instead o' south.'
And jest then they heard the rumblin' sound like
thunder again, and Uncle Tandy says: 'The end
o' the world's come, and we're travelin' up-stream
to the New Jerusalem.' And while father and Uncle
Tandy went floatin' up-stream half scared out o'
their wits, the Goshen folks and the town folks was
down on their knees prayin', and the church bells
was ringin', and everybody thought the Judgment
Day had come. Two or three people was so scared
they professed religion.
  "Mother said she was awake when the earthquake
happened. She never slept well when father was
off on his river trips, and she was lyin' in bed won-
derin' if he was safe, when the house begun to shake,
and the dishes and pans rattled on the shelves, and
there was father and Uncle Tandy travelin' back-
wards twelve miles; and when the earthquake was
over and the river got to flowin' south again, they
floated down past Cairo and saw the big lake, pretty
near twenty-five miles long and four miles wide,
right where there'd been nothin' but woods and dry
land, and the tops o' some o' the biggest trees was
stickin' up above the water, and folks from far and
                        9

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



from near was comin' to see what the earthquake bad
done.
  "Father and Uncle Tandy never got through talkin'
about the earthquake that Sunday mornin', and Par-
son Page never got tired listenin', and every time
he'd come to see father, he'd manage to bring the
talk around to fishin', and that'd start father to tellin'
about the time the lake was made; and when father'd
git through, Parson Page he'd draw a long breath
and say: 'Well, that's wonderful! wonderful! It
was a great privilege to be present at an act of crea-
tion, as it were, and something to be thankful for all
your days."'
  Aunt Jane's voice ceased suddenly, and a bewildered
look came into her clear old eyes, the look of one who
has lost connection with the present by lingering
overtime in the past. "What was I talkin' about a
while ago, child" she asked helplessly.
  "Wasn't it circuses" I suggested.
  The cloud of perplexity rolled away from Aunt
Jane's face. "Why, of course it was," she ejaculated,
with an accent of self-reproof for her forgetfulness.
"Didn't I start out to tell you about Parson Page
goin' to the circus, and here I am tellin' about the
                        10

 


PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



earthquake. I'm jest like an old blind horse; can't
keep in the straight road to save my life. Some
folks might say my mind was failin', but if you ever
git to be as old as I am, child, you'll know jest how
it is. A young person hasn't got much to remember,
and he can start out and tell a straight tale without
any trouble. But an old woman like me - why,
every name I hear starts up some ricollection or other,
and that keeps me goin' first to one side o' the road
and then to the other."
  And having explained away her lapse of memory,
Aunt Jane went cheerfully on.
  "I was talkin' about church members goin' to
circuses, and I started out to tell about Parson Page
the time Barnum's big show come to town. I don't
reckon there ever was such a show as Barnum's, nor
such show bills as he put up that spring. They was
pasted up all along every road leadin' into town, and
under the pictures of the animals they had Bible
texts. There was the Arabian horses and that Bible
text from Job, 'Thou hast clothed his neck with
thunder.' And under the lion's picture they had,
'The lion and the lamb shall lie down together.' And
the man that put up the show bills give out to every-
                        11

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



body that this was a show that church members could
go to and take their children to, because there'd be
two kinds o' tickets, one for the animal show and
one for the circus, and folks that didn't favor the
circus needn't go near it; but everybody, he said,
ought to see the animals, for they had pretty near
every beast of the field and bird of the air that the
Lord had created.
  "Well, us Goshen folks, we talked it over at home
and in our Mite Society. We'd always been mighty
strict about worldly amusements, all of us except
Uncle Jimmy Judson. He used to say: 'As long as
children ain't breakin' any of the ten commandments
or any of their bones, let 'em alone, let 'em alone.'
But the most of the children in our neighborhood
never had seen the inside of a show tent, and of course
every one of 'em was anxious to go to that show.
We went to Parson Page about it, and he studied a
while and says he: 'If the Lord made those animals,
it surely cannot be sinful to go and see them; and I
see no reason why every one in Goshen church should
not attend the animal show.' Well, that was enough
for us, and everybody in the church and out o' the
church turned out to that show.

 


PARSON PAGE WEENT TO THE CIRCUS



  "I reckon you know, child, how it is when a circus
comes to town. Country folks has their own ways
o' passin' the time and makin' pleasure for them-
selves, and town folks theirs, but a circus is one thing
that brings all the country folks and all the town
folks together. The country folks come to see the
town and the circus, and the town folks, they turn
out to see the circus and the country folks, and I
reckon they got as much fun out of us as they did
out o' the show, lookin' at our old-fashioned dresses
and bonnets and laughin' at our old-fashioned ways.
 "Well, the time I'm tellin' about, the country folks
turned out as they never had before, and there was
people in town from all over the county.  Some of
'em, they said, had traveled half the night to git in
town bright and early. I ricollect the weather was
more like June than May. It hadn't rained for a
long time, and when the folks begun rollin' into town,
the dust rose till you couldn't see the road before
you, and there was so many carriages and buggies
and two-horse wagons hitched around the streets
it looked like there wouldn't be room for the pro-
cession to pass. Sam Amos was standin' on the
drug-store corner with me and Abram when the music
                        13

 


CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



begun playin' 'way down by the depot, and all the
boys and young folks broke and run down Main
Street to meet the band-wagon, and Sam said he
didn't believe they could run any faster if they was
to hear the cry, 'Behold, the Bridegroom cometh!'
  "The procession reached clean from the depot to
the Presbyterian church corner, and it was worth
comin' to town jest to see the horses that pulled the
chariots, some of 'em as white as milk and some coal
black and holdin' their heads so high, and steppin'
like fine ladies and lookin' so proud and so gentle,
too, and so different from the horses that we drove
to our own wagons and plows that you wouldn't
know they was any kin to each other. Why, that
night when I shut my eyes to go to sleep I could see
the big gold chariot and the white horses, and all
night long they went steppin' through my dreams.
  "Well, after the procession'd gone by, we went
over in the courthouse yard and eat our dinner under
the old locust treed and then we went down toward
the river where the tents was spread. There's some
shows, honey, where there's more on the bills than
there is under the tent. I've heard Sam Amos say
that, and there was one show that he used to say
                        14

 


PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



was so blame bad it was right good. But Mr. Bar-
num's show was the kind where there was more under
the tent than there was on the bills, and the sights
us country folks saw that day give us somethin' to
talk about for a long time to come. But jest as the
animal show was about over, and people begun leavin',
a big storm come up. I thought I heard the thunder
rollin' while me and Abram and the children was
lookin' at the fat woman, but of course we couldn't
go home till we'd seen everything, and the first thing
we knew the wind was blowin' a hurricane, and it
got under the tent and lifted some o' the pegs out
o' the ground, and somebody hollered out that the
tent was about to fall down, and such a scatteration
you never did see. We got out o' that tent a good
deal quicker'n we got in, and started for town as
fast as we could go, carryin' little children anddrag-
gin' 'em along by the hand; and the rain begun
pourin' down, and everybody was wet to the skin
before they could git to the drug store or the dry
goods store or any place where folks'd take us in.
  "I ricollect Silas Petty said he reckoned it was a
judgment on us church members for goin' to worldly
amusements, and Abram said that couldn't be, be-
                       15

 


CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



cause we'd prayed for rain the Sunday before. And
- bless your life ! - while the rest of us Goshen folks
was standin' around in wet clothes and wishin' we
could go home, Parson Page and Mis' Page was sittin'
high and dry in the circus tent.
  "Parson Page said he never could tell how he got
inside that circus tent. Ile said he set out to make
a bee-line for town, intendin' to stop at the drug
store till the rain was over, but the wind was blowin'
and raisin' such clouds o' dust you couldn't keep your
eyes open, and he was holdin' his hat on with one
hand and tryin' to help Mis' Page with the other,
and the crowd was kind o' earryin' 'em along, and
all at once, he said, he found he was makin' straight
for the door o' the big tent where the band was playin'
and the circus was about to begin."
  Here Aunt Jane paused and laughed until laughter
almost turned to tears. "There's three ways o'
tellin' this story, child," she said, as she regained
her breath. "Parson Page used to tell it his way,
and Sam Amos would tell it his way, and Mis' Page
had her way o' tellin' it. She used to laugh fit to
kill over Parson Page sayin' he didn't know how he
got into the circus tent. Says she: 'Lemuel may
                        16

 



PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



not know how he got into the circus, but I know.
I had hold of his arm, and the wind was blowin' the
dust in my eyes, too, but I knew exactly which way
I was goin', and I was guidin' him.' Says she: 'I
had on my best silk dress, and I'd jest turned it and
made it over, and I didn't intend to have that dress
ruined for lack of a little shelter.' She said she never
once thought about tickets, and there was such a
crowd, and the wind was blowin' things every which
way and there was lightnin' and the noise o' thunder,
and while the folks in front of her was givin' up their
tickets, the folks behind was pressin' and pushin',
and between the two there wasn't anything for her
to do but go into the tent, whether she wanted to
or not. And she said for her part she didn't mind
it a bit, for that circus tent was the cheerfulest, hap-
piest place she ever was in. She said the music made
you feel like laughin' and steppin' lively, and folks
was eatin' peanuts and drinkin' lemonade, and the
bareback riders was tearin' around the ring, and
jest as they got fairly inside, the rain begun beatin'
down on the tent, and she thanked her stars she wasn't
outside. She said it took Parson Page some little
time to find out where he was, and when he did find
                        17

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



it out, he wanted to start right home in the rain,
and she told him he could go if he wanted to, but
she was goin' to stay there till the rain was over.
And while they was arguin' the matter, Sam Amos
come along, and Parson Page begun explainin' how
he got in by accident and wanted to git out. Sam
said nobody but a frog or a fish or a Presbyterian
minister would object to stayin' under a circus tent
in such a rain as that, and he might as well make
himself comfortable. So he found a seat for Mis'
Page and the parson, and he used to say he got more
fun out o' Parson Page than he did out o' the circus,
and he couldn't hardly see what was goin' on in the
ring for watchin' the parson's face. He had his gold-
headed cane between his knees and his hands on
top o' the cane and his head bowed over his hands
like he was engaged in prayer, and he set there as
solemn as if he was at a funeral, while everybody
around was laughin' and hollerin' at the clown's jokes.
  "But Mis' Page she took things fair and easy.
She said she knew the Presbytery couldn't do any-
thing with her, and she made up her mind, as she
was in there and couldn't git out, she'd see all there
was to be seen. The next meetin' o' the Mite Society
                        18

 



PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



she told us all about it, and she said if the gyirls'
skyirts had jest been a little longer, there wouldn't
'a' been a thing amiss with that circus. But she said
what they lacked in length they made up in width,
and the jumpin' and ridin' was so amazin' that you
forgot all about the skyirts bein' short.
  "Parson Page said that circus seemed as long to
him as a Sunday service used to seem when he was a
boy. His conscience hurt him so, and he kept thinkin'
what on earth he would say, if the Presbytery heard
about it, and he felt like everybody in the tent was
lookin' at him, and he never was as glad in his life
as he was when Sam told him the show was over and
he got up to leave.
  "Mis' Page said they was edgin' their way out
through the crowd, and all at once Parson Page stopped
and threw up his hands like he always did when some-
thin' struck him all at once, and says he: 'Bless
my soul ! I've been to this circus and didn't pay
my way in.' Says he: 'That makes a bad matter
worse, and I can't leave this tent till I've paid for
myself and my wife.' And Sam Amos he laughed
fit to kill, and says he: 'It looks to me like you'll
be makin' a bad matter worse if you do pay, for,'
                        19

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



says he, 'as long as you don't pay for seein' the show,
you can say it was an accident, but if folks know
you paid your way, you can't make 'em believe it
was accidental.'
  "Parson Page looked mighty troubled, and he
thought a while, and says he: 'Maybe you're right.
My payin' won't help the looks of things any, but
I know I'll have a better conscience all my life if I
pay as other people have done. I haven't looked
at the show,' says he, 'but I've heard the music,
and I've had a shelter from the storm and a com-
fortable seat, and in all common honesty I ought
to pay.' So they started out to find the man that
sold tickets. But the ticket stand was gone, and
they stood there lookin' around, the mud nearly
ankle-deep, and Mis' Page said she was holdin' up
her silk dress and wishin' to goodness they could
git started toward town.
  "Sam said he knew Parson Page's conscience would
hold him there on the show-ground till he'd paid that
money, so he says: 'You and Mis' Page wait here;
I'll see if I can find the man you want.' And Sam
hunted all over the grounds till he found the head
man of the circus, and he brought him around to
                       20

 


PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



where Parson Page and Mis' Page was waitin' for
him. Mis' Page said he was as fine lookin' and well-
mannered a man as she ever had seen; and he shook
hands with her so friendly it seemed like she'd known
him all her life, and then he says to Parson Page,
as kind as you please: 'Well, my friend, what can I
do for you'
  "And Parson Page he explained how he'd got into
the show tent by accident when the storm was comin'
up, and how he wanted to pay; and the showman
listened mighty polite, and when the parson got
through he says: 'Put up your purse, sir. You
don't owe me a cent.' Says he: 'The obligation's
all on my side, and it's an honor to this circus to
know that we had a minister of the gospel in our
audience, to-day.' The parson he insisted on payin',
but the showman he wouldn't hear to it. Says he:
'If Mr. Barnum was to hear that I'd charged a preacher
anything for seein' his show, I'd lose my place before
you could say   "Jack Robinson !"' And Parson
Page said: 'Is that really so' And the showman
said: 'Upon my word and honor, it is. There's no
such thing as a preacher payin' his way into one o'
Mr. Barnum's circuses.'
                       21

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



  "Well, Parson Page put his purse back in his pocket
and thanked the showman for his kindness, but he
said he felt as if he wanted to make some sort of a
return, and he begun searchin' around in his pockets
to see if he didn't have a tract or somethin' o' that
sort to give him, and he come across a Shorter Cate-
chism that he'd been questionin' the children out of
the Sunday before. And he pulled it out and says
he: 'Sir, I would like to leave this little book with
you as a token of remembrance.' Sam said the show-
man took it and looked at it and turned over the
pages right slow, and at last he says: 'Great Jehosa-
phat! This carries me back forty years, to the time
when I was a little shaver, goin' to church Sunday
mornin' and listenin' to old Brother Bodley preach
from the day of creation down to the day of judgment,
and sittin' on the old horsehair sofa in the parlor all
Sunday evenin' wrestlin' with this very catechism
and prayin' for the sun to go down and wishin' I
could cut all the Sundays out o' the almanac.' And
he turned over the pages o' the catechism and says
he: 'Yes, here's all my old friends, "Santification"
and "Justification" and "Adoption."' Sam said
he laughed to himself, but there was a curious look
                        22

 


PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



in his eyes like he might cry, too. And says he:
'Parson, I know you won't believe me, but there ain't
a question in this catechism that I can't answer.'
  "And Parson Page, he looked amazed, as anybody
would, and says he: 'Is it possible' And the show-
man handed him the book, and says he: 'I bet you
five dollars I can answer any question you ask me.'
Well, of course, Parson Page hadn't any notion of
bettin' with the showman, but he took the catechism
and says he, jest as earnest as if he was hearin' a
Sunday-school class: 'What is sanctification' And
the showman says: 'Sanctification is an act of God's
free grace wherein he pardoneth all our sins, and ac-
cepteth us as righteous in his sight only for the
righteousness of Christ imputed to us and received by
faith alone.'
  "And Parson Page looked mighty pleased, and
says he: 'That's a perfectly correct answer, but
that's justification, and I asked you what sanctifica-
tion is.' And the showman he thought a minute,
and says he: 'You're right! You're right! I al-
ways did have trouble with justification and sancti-
fication, and I remember how mother'd say: "Now,
Samuel, can't you get it fixed in your mind that jus-

 


CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



tification is an act and sanctification is a work of
God's free grace" I thought I did get it fixed one
o' them Sunday evenin's when mother was workin'
with me, but I see now I didn't.'
  "And then he pulled out his purse, - Mis' Page
said she never saw as much money at one time in
all her life, -and he handed Parson Page a five-
dollar gold piece. Parson Page didn't make any
motion toward takin' it; jest looked first at the show-
man and then at Sam in a kind o' puzzled way, and
the showman says: 'Here's your money, Parson.
You won it fair and square.'
  "And Parson Page says: 'Sir, I don't understand
you,' and he stepped back to keep the showman
from puttin' the money in his hand -pretty much,
I reckon, the way Brother Wilson did when Squire
Schuyler was tryin' to make him take the deed to
the house that was a wedding fee; and the showman
says: 'Why, didn't I bet you five dollars I could
answer any question in this catechism, and didn't
I lose my bet' And Parson Page says: 'Sir, I
hadn't the slightest intention of betting with you.
I am a minister of the gospel.' And the showman
he says: 'Well, Parson, you may not have intended
                       24

 


PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



bettin' any more than you intended goin' to the circus,
but you did bet, and there's no gettin' around it. I
bet I could answer any question, and you took up the
bet and asked the question; and I lost, and you won.'
  "Sam Amos said he never could forgit the look on
Parson Page's face when he begun to see that he'd
not only been to the circus, but that he'd been bettin'
with the circus man. And he says: 'Sir, there's a
great misunderstanding somewhere. Surely a minis-
ter of the gospel can ask a catechism question with-
out being accused of betting.' And the showman
he laughed, and says he: 'Well, we won't argue about
that, but here's your money.' And Parson Page
says: 'Sir, I shall not take it.' And the showman
he looked mighty solemn and says he: 'Do you think
it's right, Parson, to keep a fellow man from payin'
his just debts' And Parson Page studied a while,
and says he: 'That's a hard question. I never had
to deal with just such a matter before, and I hardly
know what to say.' And the showman he says:
'I've got a conscience the same as you; my con-
science tells me to pay this money, so it must be right
for me to pay it; and if it's right for me to pay it,
it can't be wrong for you to take it.'
                       25

 



CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS



  " Well, Parson Page studied a minute, and says
he: 'Your reasoning appears to be sound, but, still,
my conscience tells me that I ought not to take the
money, and I will not take it.' And the showman
says: 'Well, if it goes against your conscience to
keep it, put it in the contribution box next Sunday.'
Says he: 'I haven't been to church since I was a
boy, and there may be a good many changes since
then, but I reckon they're still passin' the contribu-
tion box around.' And the parson he drew back
and shook his head again, and the showman says:
'Well, you can give it to foreign missions; maybe
the heathen won't object to takin' a showman's
money.' And the parson says: 'Sir, I appreciate
your generosity, but on the whole I think it best
not to take the money.'
  "Sam said the showman looked at Parson Page a
minute, and then he slapped him on the shoulder,
and says he: 'Parson, you may not know it, but
we're pardners in this game. If it wasn't for the
church, we wouldn't need the circus, and if it wasn't
for the circus, we wouldn't need the church.' Says
he: 'You belong to the church, and I belong to the
circus; but maybe, after all, there ain't so very much
                       26

 


PARSON PAGE WENT TO THE CIRCUS



difference betwixt an honest preacher and an honest
showman.' And then he bowed to Mis' Page like
she'd been a queen, and took Parson Page by the
hand, and the next minute he was gone like he had
a heap o' business to see to. And Sam Amos laughed,
and says he: 'Well, Parson, circus-goin' and bettin'
is enough for one day. You and me'd better go
home now, before the world, the flesh, and the devil
lay hold of you again.'
  "So they all started for town, Parson Page talkin'
about how kind and polite the showman was, and
how his conscience was clear since he'd offered to
pay for his seat, and how glad he was that he hadn't
taken the five dollars the showman wanted him to
take. Sam said he waited till they got to the drug
store, and then he told Parson Page to put his hand
in his coat pocket, - he had on a black luster coat
with the pocket outside, - and Parson Page put his
hand in, and there was the five-dollar gold piec