Complete Short Story “How The Parson Found His Soul”

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XVI, Issue 209, 21 August 1926, Page 9

Complete Short Story “How The Parson Found His Soul”

(GORING-READE.)

TN a little country town in this Dominion lived a parson named the Rev. David Armstrong. When I first met him, his name was a misfit. He was a timid man, somewhat bookish and certainly not suited to his matter of fact and somewhat sporting flock. He was past middle age, but no wrinkles seamed his face and no strands of grey softened his hair. Mrs Armstrong was of different mould, being energetic and masterful. She kept her house in good order and also her husband, and was respected in the district for her capable disposition, but wa s not loved. I had taken a small farm in the neighbourhood during the War, having come home wounded, and as there was but little congenial society, I perforce saw something of the Armstrongs and a good deal of the local Doctor, both in his private and professional capacity. I grew to like the little parson, but one always felt disappointed in him; chore was a lack of something vital. He talked well at times, and I came to the conclusion that hij heart had been dried up in some way, and that the curious absence of any emotion left one with a feeling of depression. People in trouble did not go to him for help, so that although Mrs Armstrong was always ready to give material assistance, the spiritual needs of the parish were rather starved. The Doctor despised the parson and loathed his 'wife. Her tongue was rather acid, and as he did not go to church she sometimes said things which of course, kind friends repeated. The. parson was in the habit of preaching courses of sermons on subjects of • little interest to his parishioners and, as the delivery was not impressive, many of us found refuge in sleep. Now, however, I am coming to the beginning of mv story, the facts which I gathered from several sources. Isuppose someone must have sent the Rev. David a book on Spiritual Healing, for I think that he gained most of his information from books and little from contact with humans. Anyway, at the beginning of the winter he gave out his intention of preaching a course of sermons on Spiritual Healing, and the way the good Doctor snorted next day, when I went to get an injection, made me amused, although later I was sorry that he became so bitter. Occasionally one finds a doctor so keen about professional etiquette, that a B long a s that is safeguarded all is well. That there should be any thought of healing outside the properly ordained channels of the British Medical Association filled my Doctor with fury. On most subjects he was fair-minded and humane, but I found it wiser to keep off anything like mental suggestion or Christian Science. And now to quote him, “This fool of a parson was setting himself up as an exponent of the art of healing.” This was rather a stretch of the imagination, but as he did not go to church, he could believe only what he was told, and, of course this was not correct. I must say that I was surprised at our Parson taking an interest in such a subject, as it seemed so altogether foreign to his character. Perhaps the Doctor was right, and it is true that fools step in where angels fear to tread, although from what happened afterwards I am inclined to ascribe to the finger of Providence the motive power behind tho scene. After a few weeks the Parson evidently arrived at a chapter on “casting out devils,” and we had quite an interesting address on a subject outside the experience I of the residents, with the exception, perhaps, of the local publican and, of course, he was not in church. The Doctor heard all about it afterwards and I am afraid more than all about it, for you know what these small places are like for gossip. I will now unfold the wonderful workings of Providence, the results of which worked a miracle, or rather two.

During the following week the local storekeeper, whose wife was ill, engaged the services of a Maori girl as cook. All went well for a couple of days, but on the third day, Graham the storekeeper, was awakened by a tremendous crash in the kitchen. He rushea to the room and, to his intense surprise, saw the infuriated cook in the act of hurling a saucepan at the family cat, who, with the agility of her race, fled for safety through the open window. Graham stood in the doorway in open-mouth-ed astonishment, when quick as a flash the cook picked up the fryingpan full of sizzling bacon and hurled it at her master. She scored an undoubted hit, and he certainly had a taste of bacon for his breakfast. Imitating the speedy eat, he beat a hasty retreat and, with the presence of mind born of danger, he was the other side of the door with thfl key turned before many seconds had elapsed. In a flash he was round at the back of the house, and managed to slip the kev from the inside to the outside of the kitchen door, turned it and doubled back to the front and told his wife that the cook was ill and that he was off for the Doctor. He found him just ready for the road, so that they were both back at the store in a few minutes, and after administering some soothing medicine to Mrs Graham, who was in a state of nervous collapse, the Doctor followed her husband to the back of the house, where, judging by the noise, bedlam had been let loose. The cook was strong and energetic 'and the way she made the kitchen utensils hurtle about the room made a scene fit for a pantomime. You wonder how they saw r Well, the fact of the matter was they stood on a high box and peeped through the little open window, which luckily was the only one in the room too small for egress. The Doctor was nonplussed and distinctly nervous. He absolutely refused to enter the kitchen. Graham told him that he would gladly unlock the door and allow the Doctor to slip in and then secure it again. Somehow, our medical man, usually so confident .appeared incapable of decision. He, at length, said that it was a difficult case, and needed thought. The two of them retired to the store and lit their pipes. After a few puffs, the Doctor jumped up in great excitement, and said: “Ive got it!” “Where?” said Graham, who was a very literal kind of man. “Why, the Parson you silly ass!” With the advent of a solution, the Doctor's egotism returned. “Send for your parson, the great David, the caster put of devils, and we will see what we shall see. I diagnose the case as demoniacal possession and, to quote the Parson himself, the Church is the authority to whom to apply, and not the medical profession.” Well, the end of it was that Graham went round and put the case before the Rev. David and, if it had not been for Mrs Armstrong, I think there would have been no further developments, but the good lady had enough sense to see that either her husband must be sacrificed, or they would become the laughing-stock of the district, and, of course, she insisted on the sacrifice. It was therefore all up with the Parson, who, all unwillingly, went with Graham to the store with a prayer-book and the book which had brought all this trouble upon him in his pocket. The Doctor was murderously polite and congratulated the timid map on having so soon found a case on which to practice. Graham told me afterwards that he tried to dissuade the Doctor from sending a man into such danger, but it was of no avail, and with a cutting remark on the strength o' the Biblical David, the Doctor pushed the Parson into the room, while Graham held the door open. The key was quickly turned, and the brave pair made a bolt for the reserved seats on the window box. From what I gathered it was

no doubt but that Goliath won the first round. The infuriated cook was by this time showing signs of stress but she had enough in hand to get in some good work, and some of het shots scored * bullseye. The little man was not much of an athlete ’ taking it all round he did very well, and his agility was admired by the onlookers. From what thev coula sec and hear, he was evidently trying to read some form of service, be never got far enough to be effective, as it is impossible to dodge a ■ pan and read with any degree of power at one and the same time. After about fifteen minutes of ineffectual effort and some punishment, the Parson took cover under a large table at one end of the room, and then, curiously enough, the Maori lady became distinctly quieter 1 took her first breather. The David could not be seen, but the sounds coming from under the table suggested that he was engaged in prayer. After about ten minutes’ interval, out popped the little man. with the perspiration rolling down his cheeks, and in a strange voice again attempted his service of exorcism. This seemed to restore the devil to the Cook, and again the air was thick with missiles of all sorts, from tea cups to milk cans. After a brief rough and tumble, the table again provided friendly shelter and with the disappearance of David, Goliath took another breather. The sounds coming from under the table were now terse, definite and strong; in fact, the miracle was about to begin. In a few minutes out jumped the Parson .with eyes flashing and a new look of determination on his face, which made him look quite handsome. Before the Cook had time to make an onslaught, he held up his hand, and in a voice of command said: “In tbe name of Jesus Christ I command the e.vil spirit that is troubling this poor woman to come out of her and to return to his proper place and neither to trouble her or anyone else again.” He then made the sign of the Cross in the direction of the woman, and repeated the sacred name over and over again, with intense power and feeling. The atmosphere in the kitchen must have been electric, and even the Doctor afterwards admitted the compelling power of the scene After a few blasphemous remarks, the woman collapsed suddenly on the floor, and the Rev. David at onco knelt beside her, and after a short prayer dashed water in her face, and tried to raise her up. The Doctor jumped off the box and hurried Graham to the door, which was soon unlocked and left wide open, so that fresh air might rush in. After some restorative had been administered, the girl sat up in a chair and appeared quite normal although considerably shaken. The Doctor went to attend to Mis Graham, while the storekeeper opened up the shop for business. The Rev. David Armstrong walked quietly home and locked himself in his tiny study, and there stayed until noon, in spite of occasional knockings and callings from his wife, to all of which he paid not the slightest attention. He came out to lunch with something of the atmosphere of" Moses coming down from the Mountain, if one may say so without being irreverent. I happened to drop into lunch, having left my horse at tbe blacksmith’s, so I had first-hand knowledge of this part of the story. Thy Parson spoke littl deuring the meal, but there was something about him which demanded respect, and Mrs Armstrong was distinctly quieter and less aggressive. Next Sunday the church was full, as the story had spread round the district, and the Parson was the hero of it, while the Doctor cut a sorry figure. Both Mr and Mrs Graham were so grateful to Mr Armstrong tdiat somehow the general impression gained ground that the Doctor had not played the game, and it took him some time to live the episode down. In fact, both his materialism and his self-esteem received a nasty shock. The Parson took the people into his confidence, and in a simple but heartfelt way confessed his lack of personal direct contact and the consequent failure of his past life, and, without referring to the episode stated that he had recently had the evil, separating him from the Great Reality rent asunder, and trusted that in future he would bear witness to his vision. The second miracle was duly accomplished, and the Rev. David Armstrong became the father of his people. There was now no one in trouble or sorrow who did not come to the Parson for help. I had to go away for a few months, and on my return dropped into the vicarage to tea, and there was something about the Parson’s quiet, confident manner that told me that the Rev. David Armstrong had grown into his name.