Now and then I heard a
smothered giggle outside, and a scrambling among the bushes. It was a
dark night. When the Rev. Mr. Rivers finally rose to depart, and had got
as far as the gate, he became helplessly entangled in a perfect network
of small ropes. He could neither advance nor recede. In a pitiable and
ignominious condition, he called to us for help.
"Those devilish boys!" said Grandpa, with religious fervor of tone, at
the same time glancing at me with a delighted twinkle in his eye. "I knew
they was up to something. I heered 'em out there;" and he patiently lit
his lantern, and went out to cut the minister free; but the Rev. Mr.
Rivers did not come to the Wallencamp school-house to preach again.
Among those who looked on with quiet approval at this childish and
barbarous performance of the Wallencamp youth, I learned afterwards, were
staid Lovell Barlow and little Bachelor Lot.
Left to their own spiritual devices, the Wallencampers carried on their
evening meetings after methods formerly approved. They rose and
talked--or prayed--or diverted themselves socially--or sang. Everything
they were moved to do, they did.
The lame giant, Godfrey Cradlebow, at seasons when the tide came in,
would pour forth the utterances of his soul with the most earnest
eloquence.
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