“Christian Science is a faith-cure; that is, it’s usin’ yer brains an’ trainin’ ’em to know that there’s nuthin’ ’tall the matter with you ef you only think there ain’t. They argify that all sickness is a mistake, ’cause it’s ’maginary. I don’t b’lieve that, though, ’cause I had the rheumatism while I was there, an’ the doctors started in to cure me by prayin’ an’ wurkin’ on my body through my spirit, an’ it warn’t no more good than nuthin’ ’tall. I’ve got as much faith as eny livin’ man, but rheumatism is one o’ them things that’ll convince you agin’ your will; it will draw speech out of a deef mute an’ make a blind man see, when them pains is a grindin’ inter your bones an’ jints worse than a saw cuttin’ thro’ knots in a cord wood stick. I’m free to say that curin’ my mind didn’t have no effect on my pain, an’ I jes’ kep’ on seein’ blue blazes an’ swearin’ like mad. I’ll ’low that faith can move mountains, faith, as leetle as a mustard seed, an’ that’s mighty small. Ef you b’lieve you’ll get what you wants an’ asks fer, that’s faith. That’s good; that’s all right. Trouble is we don’t b’lieve it ’cordin’ to scripter. We git mad when our prayers ain’t answered, not thinkin’ it’s ’cause we ain’t got horse sense nuff to use discreetion in puttin’ our faith on subjects that is approvin’ to the Lord, an’ will fit in with his own idees ’bout runnin’ the business of the universe. An’ that’s where faith-cure is weak, ’cause it’s comin’ in ’junction with God. Faith-cure won’t operate on any man where it was preordinated that a pretickler man was to die with a pretickler complaint. No’m, we ain’t up to comin’ in ’junction with the Lord’s business. There’s a number of grand diversions to Christian Science. There’s hypnism an’ pessimism an’ a number of other isms, but they all bear the same way—a sort of applostic healin’ of sickness. The doctors kept after me ’bout my gifts of healin’, an’ very kindly showed me wherein I could make an hones’ dollar, an’ business bein’ business I finally determined to adop’ magnifyin’ as a perfeshun. I’ve been in the business nigh upon ten years now, an’ I’ve picked up as good a livin’ as any colored gempleman who has wurked a sight harder an’ had to take piles o’ unregenerate sass from his boss.”
That night they walked home together after the rehearsal: the four young people—Dora and John, Sappho and Will. Some one of the choir boys walking ahead of them was singing in a sweet, high tenor voice the refrain of an old love song: “Couldst thou but know how much I love thee.” It suited Will’s mood, and voiced his dream exquisitely. Across the heavens the Northern Lights streamed in radiance. Meteors bright and shooting stars added to the beauty of the night. The moon, at its full, shed the light of day about them. The wind whispered amidst the leafless branches of the huge old trees on the Common and Public Garden as they passed them on their homeward way. Once Will took her hand in his; she let it stay a moment while she made an incoherent little speech about clouds and trees. Will said nothing. It was not time yet, he told himself. He would wait a little longer.
VIII
The Sewing-Circle
Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,
Goldsmith
Imagination fondly stoops to trace
The parlor splendors of that festive place.
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Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
These simple blessings of the lowly train;
To me more dear,
One native charm than all the gloss of art.
Ma Smith was a member of the church referred to in the last chapter, the most prominent one of color in New England. It was situated in the heart of the West End, and was a very valuable piece of property. Every winter this church gave many entertainments to aid in paying off the mortgage, which at this time amounted to about eight thousand dollars. Mrs. Smith, as the chairman of the board of stewardesses, was inaugurating a fair—one that should eclipse anything of a similar nature ever attempted by the colored people, and numerous sewing-circles were being held among the members all over the city. Parlor entertainments where an admission fee of ten cents was collected from every patron, were also greatly in vogue, and the money thus obtained was put into a fund to defray the expense of purchasing eatables and decorations, and paying for the printing of tickets, circulars, etc., for the fair. The strongest forces of the colored people in the vicinity were to combine and lend their aid in making a supreme effort to clear this magnificent property.
Boston contains a number of well-to-do families of color whose tax-bills show a most comfortable return each year to the city treasury. Strange as it may seem, these well-to-do people, in goodly numbers, distribute themselves and their children among the various Episcopal churches with which the city abounds, the government of which holds out the welcome hand to the brother in black, who is drawn to unite his fortunes with the members of this particular denomination. It may be true that the beautiful ritual of the church is responsible in some measure for this. Colored people are nothing if not beauty-lovers, and for such a people the grandeur of the service
