her.
She had laughed when he said this to her at one time. “I declare, Thaddeus, that’s the last thing I would want to do. One of us on the road is enough.”
“But if you wanted to, I’d do my best to help you, you know.”
“No, Thaddeus. The only thing I ever wanted was you and the babies.”
And then her voice had softened. “I do thank you for saying it, though.”
Not so Case. And not so with most of the other Methodists, in spite of the fact that they had for years relied on women to supervise class meetings, to carry the gospel to the Indian Missions, and yes, even to preach wherever there was someone to listen. His church was falling into line with the Wesleyans, who had gone so far as to pass a resolution forbidding women from taking the pulpit, and men like William Case had agreed to it.
Lewis had seen how effective women could be, how they could move a crowd and stir its conscience. Why not let them, in a country that spread its people across countless miles and scattered them thinly across its face? It wasn’t as if there was a surfeit of male ministers.
By the time he realized that his reflections had caused him to lose track of what Case was saying, Lewis had missed the entire first part of the sermon. He chided himself for letting his mind wander.
Case was met with polite attention, but as the first speaker of the day, he failed to engender the wild enthusiasm that was the hallmark of the camp meeting. As the day wore on, however, each sermon would spur the frenzy of the crowd until, at the very end of the meeting, Case would speak again and claim the conversion of many.
But now it was the turn of the exhorter. James Simpson mounted the platform. It was the exhorter’s job to encourage the crowd to shout and proclaim their faith, to “do what was right.” He began with “Hallelujah!”
“Hallelujah,” the crowd shouted in return.
“I should go back and make sure Minta is all right,” Rachel said and she darted away before he could say goodbye.
Most of the crowd was sitting well back, but there were a number, mostly young folks, who crowded in a ring around the platform.
“Hallelujah, brothers and sisters,” the exhorter called.
“Hallelujah,” came the reply of many voices, although there were a few catcalls from the back. These meetings attracted mostly the sincere, but there were always a few who came along just to see what trouble they could cause.
“Haven’t you heard the news?” A voice came floating up to the platform.
Simpson ignored it.
“Hey, Preacher, haven’t you heard the news?” the voice persisted, “The devil is dead!”
Although he had barely seemed to acknowledge the heckling, Simpson now seized on this statement. “If the devil is dead,” he shouted to the crowd, “then I see he’s left a dreadful number of fatherless children!”
The crowd roared its approval, and he continued. “We are all fatherless children unless we acknowledge the true benevolence of the Lord Our God, who is truly our father. Like a father, he will forgive us. Like a father he will admit us to his House. Like a father he will love us, but only if we surrender ourselves to the Mercy of his Grace and give up our whole hearts to the joy of his Word.”
“Hallelujah!” the crowd shouted, and the heckler gave up. If there was anything a Methodist crowd admired, it was a ready wit, and Simpson had shown that he had it in abundance.
As the exhortation went on, Lewis realized that Rachel had worked her way through the throng of people and had rejoined him.
“Minta’s fine,” she said. “She insisted I come back up.”
The young people at the front began to stir. They were nearly always the first to go forward and proclaim that they had been saved. He could see a couple of the girls swaying and knew that they would soon fall to their knees, caught up in the emotion of the day. Sure enough, a yellow-haired girl threw herself to the ground, crying, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”
This was what Simpson had been waiting for. “Got what?” he cried from the platform.
“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” the girl shrieked.
“What have you got?” said Simpson in return, and the crowd joined him in asking, “What have you got?”
“I’ve got the Grace of the Lord!” she cried.
“Hallelujah!” called Simpson.
“Hallelujah!” the crowd echoed.
Right on cue, two more girls fell forward at this, and several young men followed. One of them in particular caught Lewis’s eye. He was rather weedy-looking, with greasy hair, and dressed far more shabbily than those around him. He threw himself in front of the platform and began to moan. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he shouted, in imitation of the first girl.
“What have you got, young man? What have you got?”
“I’ve got the spirit of Jesus Christ Our Lord,” he cried. He began to moan and writhe, but all the time Lewis could see that he was watching the girls out of the corner of one eye. He realized that Rachel had noticed this too, and she had a wary look on her face.
“That’s that Morgan Spicer,” she said. “I can only hope the Lord improves his personality along with his soul.” Her hand flew up to her mouth as she realized what she had said and who she had said it to, but Lewis laughed.
“I take it you know him?”
“Yes, he’s a pest,” she replied, but elaborated no further.
As Lewis himself had just been entertaining similar sentiments about William Case, he didn’t feel he could rightly chastise the girl for being uncharitable.
One by one, worshippers went to the front of the platform and threw themselves to the ground, and with each one the crowd would yell out encouragement. The meeting was building to a gratifying level of frenzy when Simpson decided enough was enough for the time being and called for a hymn. Breaking off the frenetic pace now would make people all the more eager to come forward later to be a part of the grand awakening.
“All people that on earth do dwell,” Simpson sang out. As well as being a fine exhorter, he had a good ear and a deep baritone voice that carried well.
“All people that on earth do dwell,” three hundred voices sang back at him. Lewis noticed Rachel’s was not one of them. She did, however, have rather a rapt expression on her face, and when the crowd began to clap their hands in time, she joined in.
“Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.”
“Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice,” came the response. Lewis was rather sorry that the crowd had started to clap, though, as it made the song sound like a march, and dragged the tempo down.
By the time the next speaker climbed the platform, Lewis was aware that the sun was beating down on his neck and he turned to find his way to a shadier spot. As he and Rachel threaded their way
