THE STRANGER'S PEW
The Stranger
THE
STRANGER'S PEW
IBY
Thomas Nelson Page
NEW YORK
Charles Scribner's Sons
1914
Copyright, 1914, Iy Charles Scribner's Sons
Published August. 1914
'
THE STRANGER'S PEW
This page in the original text is blank.
THE STRANGER'S PEW
T THE church-bells were ringing
loudly, and the bells of St. 's
Church were giving forth a
particularly deep and resonant tone,
which set the frosty morning air to
throbbing. It was a fine chime, and
the parishioners were justly proud of
it. The tune the bells rang now wlas,
"Jesus, Lover of AMy Soul." The
broad street on which the church
faced was full of shining vehicles: au-
tomnobiles, with fur-clad chauffeurs,
and carriages with well-groomed
horses prancing in the chill air. The
sidewalks, which in the sunshine
were covered with a sort of slush
[3 1
TIHE STRANGER'S PEW
from the now melting snow, were
alive with well-dressed men and
richly dressed ladies who moved de-
corously toward the handsome stone
portal, above which carven saints,
who had lived holy lives, stood in
stony repose. With solemn mien the
worshippers entered, exchanging with
acquaintances tempered salutations
or fragmentary bits of news; bowing
to the bowing vergers, who obsequi-
ously showed them up the diin aisles
to their seats in cushioned pews,
where they settled themselves with
an air of satisfaction. Each pew con-
tained a plate or card engraved with
the name of the owner.
As the congregation passed in, off
to one side, in a shadow beneath the
gargoyles, which, with satanic rage
graved in their stone faces, appeared
[4 l
THE STRANGER'S PEW
as if trying to spring down from the
eaves on the heads of the church-
goers, stood a person gravely ob-
serving those who entered the church.
His garb was poor and he was mani-
festly a stranger in that section. He
had come immediately from the
lower part of the town where, a little
while before, he might have been
found in a group aIsout a rusty
street-preacher, whose husky voice,
as lie tried to tell the throng about
him of heaven and the kingdom of
God, appeared to excite their amuse-
ment. Oaths and foul language were
freely passed among them; yet when
the preacher ended, a few of them
moved off with serious faces, and one
or two of them stopped and offered
their pennies to a blind beggar work-
ing at a wheezy accordion. The
[ 5 ]
THE STRANGER'S PEW
stranger joined the preacher and
walked away with him as if they had
been friends, and when he left him he
turned toward St. 's, whose bells
were just beginning to peal. He ac-
costed one of the passers-by with the
words, "Whose church is this"
"This is Doctor 's church," said
the gentleman as he passed on. The
stranger moved a little away-out of
the shadow to where the sunlight fell,
and looked long and curiously at the
building. Another person as he passed
him and followed his glance said: "A
fine church. It's the finest in the
city." The stranger, however, did not
appear to hear. He only shivered
slightly. His worn clothing was so
thin as to appear wholly unsuitable
to the winter temperature, and his
shoes showed his bare feet through
[ 6]
THE STRANGER'S PEW
their gaping sides. His face was
grave, and marked as if by want or
sorrow. His eyes, deep sunken as with
care, were habitually cast down, and
his shoulders stooped as though he
had long borne heavy burdens. He
might, but for his gentle expression,
have been a workman out of work,
who had known better days, but his
countenance, as he talked to some
little children who had stopped by
him, was kind and gentle, and had
something childlike in it. As he stood
talking with and enjoying them, a
number of the church-goers observed
him and, after a consultation, one
turned back and said something to
the children in a commanding voice,
at which they started and ran off,
looking back, now at the stranger
and now at the gentleman, who still
[ 71
THE STRANGER'S PEW
remained in sight as if to see that his
orders were obeyed. The stranger too
gazed after the children, as if in a sort
of pleasant dream. From this he was
aroused by another church-goer with
an official mien, who, after a casual
glance at him, paused at the thresh-
old and then turned back. In his
gloved hand he carried a small gold-
headed cane, as fine as a reed, with
which he pointed at the stranger as
he approached him, and called in a
tone of authority: "Don't hang
around the church- Go on." So the
stranger kept on until he had crossed
the street, when he turned just in
time to see the gentleman enter the
church. As the latter passed a bow-
ing usher he paused to say: "I am
expecting friends in my pew to-day
-Lord and Lady [the name
[ 8]
THE STRANGER'S PEW
was lost], so do not show any
strangers to it." The usher bowed.
Close on his heels came another
who said: "No strangers in my pew,
they annoy me." "Yes, sir," bowed
the usher. At that moment a poor
woman, dressed like a widow, in a
thin, shabby, black dress, long worn
threadbare, and with shoes old and
broken, came along, and entering the
church stood in the aisle just within
the door, timidly waiting to be
allowed to sit down in one of the
empty pews. The official-looking gen-
tleman passed her, apparently with-
out looking at her; but as he passed
a verger he said to him, with a jerk
of the head: "Give her a seat; donut
let people block lip the aisles." The
verger turned back and said to the
woman, in the same tone the other
[ 9 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
had used: " Sit there, and don't
block up the aisle." He indicated a
seat in a pew near the door, and she
sat down coughing. Her cough was
bad, and it appeared to irritate the
verger. Every time he returned from
showing some one to his pew he kept
looking at her with an expression of
disapproval, and presently he walked
up to her and said: "You had better
sit in that side-pew. Perhaps you will
not cough so much there." He
pointed to the first pew at the side,
under a gallery. The widow thanked
him, and, trying to stifle her cough,
moved to the other seat.
A little later the sound of the pro-
cessional came through the closed
door, and the stranger, outside, re-
turned to the church, and, as if half
timidly, entered the vestibule by a
[ 10 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
door beside the main entrance. The
vestibule was empty. He stopped
long enough to read the inscription
on a memorial tablet, declaring that
the church was erected to the glory
of God, and in memory of some one
whose name was almost indecipher-
able. Then he glanced at the list of
pew-holders, in a gilded frame, con-
taining many names, though there
was still room for others. He tried
to open the heavy middle door, but
it appeared to have caught fast; for a
drop of blood trickled down as he
stopped and gazed around. Finally,
after some apparent irresolution, he
entered the church by a small door
at the side of the vestibule. The
church was a large one and very
richly ornamented. The fine, stained-
glass windows represented a number
[ 111
THE STRANGER'S PEW
of scenes taken from Bible history,
most of them, indeed, from the life
of our Lord-there was the annunci-
ation; the scene in the stable at Beth-
lelhem; the healing of Jairus's daugh-
ter; the raising of Lazarus; and over
the high altar, on which burned
brightly a number of candles, the
Crucifixion and the Resurrection.
The church was so large that even
with the congregation that had en-
tered, many of the pews were yet un-
occupied. In one or two of them was
a card bearing the word: " Reserved."
The congregation was praying as he
entered-at least, some were; the
priest was reading a confession, and
they were following the words, some
as they gazed around, others with
bowed heads. Near the door, in pews,
were a few shabbily dressed persons.
[ 12 I
THE STRANGER'S PEW
After a glance of interest at the win-
dows, followed by a moment of irres-
olution, the stranger moved up to
where gaped a number of empty
pews; but even in the dusk of the
church the eye of a verger was too
sharp for him, and as he started to
take his seat the verger, with a ges-
ture and a word, halted him. "These
pews are all taken you must stand
till after the second lesson." I-le indi-
cated the open space near the door,
and the stranger, as if abashed,
moved haltingly back. It was the first
time he had showed a lameness. He
stood near the door while the service
proceeded, and listened to the fine
choir singing and chanting to the
strains of a great organ, wonderfully
played. Once or twice vergers came
silently down the aisle, when some
[ 13 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
one of the congregation entered late,
and rather scowled at him for stand-
ing in the way. But when the "sec-
ond lesson" was ended, the verger
either forgot the stranger, or missed
him; so he continued to stand,
though from his expression he ap-
peared to suffer from pain, and now
and then shifted his pose wearily.
Only once he smiled. It was when,
after a telling notice of the needs of
the parish by the white-robed priest,
and a high tribute to the generosity
of the people, a company of gentle-
men in kid gloves passed down the
aisles, with large silver platters, and
took up the offertory, while the well-
trained choir sang a voluntary of
much intricacy-a part of which
ran, "How beautiful are the feet of
them who bring the glad tidings!"
[ 14 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
and as one of the collectors passed
near him, the old woman in black,
with the bad cough, tremblingly put
in two cents. The collector wore a
set and solemn expression of severe
virtue, quite as he had done outside
the church when he had ordered the
little children off. But the stranger
smiled at the old widow. The old
woman caught his eye upon her and,
moving up a little, made a place be-
side her which he took with a smile
of thanks. As he passed the collector
he reached out his hand over the
plate, but whatever he put in it fell
so softly as to make no sound. The
collector turned without looking at
him and placed his hand mechanic-
ally over the plate to press down the
loose notes. Just then the choir
ceased singing, the collectors formed
[ 15 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
in line and marched up the aisle,
standing in a line while the collec-
tion was poured jingling from one
plate into another. Then the priest
received it, turned and marched to
the altar, and while he held it aloft
the congregation sang, "All things
come of thee, 0 Lord, and of thine
own have we given thee." The old
woman stood up, but could not sing;
she only coughed.
W1 hen the service was over the
congregation, fur-clad and cheery,
poured out of the church, greeting
each other with words or smiles some-
what measured, entered their luxuri-
ous vehicles, and drove off. The
stranger in the pew near the door,
with a smile of thanks as the poor
widow, with her racking cough,
passed quietly out, followed her and
1 16 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
crossing the way stood for a mo-
ment in the shadow, as if observ-
ing the congregation; then, as the
vestryman who had ordered him
off before the service appeared, he
turned and disappeared in the di-
rection which the widow had taken
toward the poorer part of the city.
She was picking her way slowly
along the sidewalk when she heard
his voice, offering his arm to support
her. Her shoes were old and worn in
holes, and let in the icy water; but
she appeared not to mind it. Her in-
terest was in the stranger.
" Why, you are almost barefooted!"
she exclaimed in a pitying voice.
"Not any more than you," he
smiled.
" Why, your feet are actually bleed-
ing!" she argued.
[ 17 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
" Old hurts," he answered her. "The
church was cold."
"Yes, it was cold near the door,"
she coughed. " You must come in and
let me see what I can do for you."
He smiled his thanks.
" You must come in and let me make
you a cup of hot-something, I will
make up my fire at once." She was
going to say "hot tea," but she re-
membered she was out of tea.
"A cup of water would do for me,"
said the stranger.
She was at her door now, and her
hands were cold as she fumbled at
the lock, and as she turned after en-
tering to call him in, he had disap-
peared. She made her way up to her
little, cold, back room and sat down,
shivering and quite out of breath.
The coal was out, so she could not
[ 18 1
THE STRANGER'S PEW
make a fire, but she wrapped herself
up as well as she could and presently
forgot her cold and hunger in sleep.
As the official-looking man lifted
his hand on his way home his wife
said, " Why, your hand has blood on
it!"
He glanced at it with annoyance.
"It must have come from that
money. I thought that person's hand
was bleeding."
"Whose" demanded his wife.
"Oh, a stranger who was hanging
around the church."
It was not long afterward that, in
the poor part of the little town, in a
very small and dingy house, and in a
little back bedroom of that house, a
sick woman lay dying. The doctor
who had attended her, sent by a
[ 19 1