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THE MINISTER'S CHARGE

OR, THE APPRENTICESHIP OF LEMUEL BARKER


By William Dean Howells


Author Of "The Rise Of Silas Lapham," "A Modern Instance," "Indian
Summer," Etc.





THE MINISTER'S CHARGE;

OR, THE APPRENTICESHIP OF LEMUEL BARKER.




I.


On their way back to the farm-house where they were boarding, Sewell's
wife reproached him for what she called his recklessness. "You had no
right," she said, "to give the poor boy false hopes. You ought to have
discouraged him--that would have been the most merciful way--if you knew
the poetry was bad. Now, he will go on building all sorts of castles
in the air on your praise, and sooner or later they will come tumbling
about his ears--just to gratify your passion for saying pleasant things
to people."

"I wish you had a passion for saying pleasant things to me, my dear,"
suggested her husband evasively.

"Oh, a nice time I should have!"

"I don't know about _your_ nice time, but I feel pretty certain of my
own. How do you know--Oh, _do_ get up, you implacable <DW36>!" he broke
off to the lame mare he was driving, and pulled at the reins.

"Don't saw her mouth!" cried Mrs. Sewell.

"Well, let her get up, then, and I won't. I don't like to saw her
mouth; but I have to do something when you come down on me with your
interminable consequences. I dare say the boy will never think of my
praise again. And besides, as I was saying when this animal interrupted
me with her ill-timed attempts at grazing, how do you know that I knew
the poetry was bad?"

"How? By the sound of your voice. I could tell you were dishonest in the
dark, David."

"Perhaps the boy knew that I was dishonest too," suggested Sewell.

"Oh no, he didn't. I could see that he pinned his faith to every
syllable."

"He used a quantity of pins, then; for I was particularly profuse of
syllables. I find that it requires no end of them to make the worse
appear the better