osc.am1.seventhson-第18节

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　　〃Well；　now；　think　about　it。　If　everybody　who　had　any　gift　for　the　hidden　arts　got　shipped　off　to　the　American　colonies；　how　would　you　ever　see　a　lick　of　witchery　while　you　were　growing　up？〃
　　〃I　didn't　see　it　because　there's　no　such　thing。〃
　　〃There's　no　such　thing　in　Britain。　But　it's　the　curse　of　good　Christians　in　America；　because　we're　up　to　our　armpits　in　torches；　doodlebugs；　bog…stompers　and　hexifiers；　and　a　child　can't　hardly　grow　to　be　four　feet　tall　without　bumping　headlong　into　somebody's　go…away　or　getting　caught　up　in　some　prankster's　speak…all　spell；　so　he　says　everything　that　es　to　mind　and　offends　everybody　for　ten　miles　around。〃
　　〃A　speak…all　spell！　Now；　Brother　Armor；　surely　you　can　see　that　a　touch　of　liquor　does　as　much。〃
　　〃Not　to　a　twelve…year…old　boy　who　never　touched　a　drop　of　liquor　in　his　life。〃
　　It　was　plain　that　Armor　was　talking　from　his　own　experience；　but　that　didn't　change　the　facts。　〃There　is　always　another　explanation。〃
　　〃There's　a　powerful　lot　of　explanations　you　can　think　up　for　anything　that　happens；〃　said　Armor。　〃But　I　tell　you　this。　You　can　preach　against　conjuring；　and　you'll　still　have　a　congregation。　But　if　you　keep　on　saying　that　conjuring　don't　work；　well；　I　reckon　most　folks'll　wonder　why　they　should　e　all　the　way　to　church　to　hear　the　preaching　of　a　plumb　fool。〃
　　〃I　have　to　tell　the　truth　as　I　see　it；〃　said　Thrower。
　　〃You　may　see　that　a　man　cheats　in　his　business；　but　you　don't　have　to　name　his　name　from　the　pulpit；　do　you？　No　sir；　you　just　keep　giving　sermons　about　honesty　and　hope　it　soaks　in。〃
　　〃You're　saying　that　I　should　use　an　indirect　approach。〃
　　〃That's　a　right　fine　church　building；　Reverend　Thrower；　and　it　wouldn't　be　half　so　fine　if　it　wasn't　for　your　dream　of　how　it　ought　to　be。　But　the　folks　here　figure　it's　their　church。　They　cut　the　wood；　they　built　it；　it's　on　mon　land。　And　it'd　be　a　crying　shame　if　you　were　so　stubborn　that　they　up　and　gave　your　pulpit　to　another　preacher。〃
　　Reverend　Thrower　looked　at　the　remnants　of　dinner　for　a　long　time。　He　thought　of　the　church；　not　unpainted　raw　lumber　the　way　it　was　right　now；　but　finished；　pews　in　place；　the　pulpit　standing　high；　and　the　room　bright　with　sunlight　through　clean…glazed　windows。　It　isn't　just　the　place；　he　told　himself；　but　what　I　can　acplish　here。　I'd　be　failing　in　my　Christian　duty　if　I　let　this　place　fall　under　the　control　of　superstitious　fools　like　Alvin　Miller　and；　apparently；　his　whole　family。　If　my　mission　is　to　destroy　evil　and　superstition；　then　I　must　dwell　among　the　ignorant　and　superstitious。　Gradually　I　will　bring　them　to　knowledge　of　the　truth。　And　if　I　can't　convince　the　parents；　then　in　time　I　can　convert　the　children。　It　is　the　work　of　a　lifetime；　my　ministry；　so　why　should　I　throw　it　away　for　the　sake　of　speaking　the　truth　for　a　few　moments　only？
　　〃You're　a　wise　man；　Brother　Armor。〃
　　〃So　are　you；　Reverend　Thrower。　In　the　long　run；　even　if　we　disagree　here　and　there；　I　think　we　both　want　the　same　thing。　We　want　this　whole　country　to　be　civilized　and　Christian。　And　neither　one　of　us　would　mind　if　Vigor　Church　became　Vigor　City；　and　Vigor　City　became　the　capital　of　the　whole　Wobbish　territory。　There's　even　talk　back　in　Philadelphia　about　inviting　Hio　to　bee　a　state　and　join　right　in；　and　certainly　they'll　make　such　an　offer　to　Appalachee。　Why　not　Wobbish　someday？　Why　not　a　country　that　stretches　from　sea　to　sea；　White　man　and　Red；　every　soul　of　us　free　to　vote　the　government　we　want　to　make　the　laws　we'll　be　glad　to　obey？〃
　　It　was　a　good　dream。　And　Thrower　could　see　himself　within　it。　The　man　who　had　the　pulpit　of　the　greatest　church　in　the　greatest　city　of　the　territory　would　bee　the　spiritual　leader　of　a　whole　people。　For　a　few　minutes　he　believed　so　intensely　in　his　dream　that　when　he　thanked　Armor　kindly　for　the　meal　and　stepped　outside；　it　made　him　gasp　to　see　that　right　now　Vigor　Township　consisted　entirely　of　Armor's　big　store　and　its　outbuildings；　a　fenced　mon　with　a　dozen　sheep　grazing　on　it；　and　the　raw　wood　shell　of　a　big　new　church。
　　Still；　the　church　was　real　enough。　It　was　almost　ready；　the　walls　were　there；　the　roof　was　on。　He　was　a　rational　man。　He　had　to　see　something　solid　before　he　could　believe　in　a　dream；　but　that　church　was　solid　enough　now；　and　between　him　and　Armor　they　could　make　the　rest　of　the　dream　e　true。　Bring　people　to　this　place；　make　this　the　center　of　the　territory。　This　church　was　big　enough　for　town　meetings；　not　just　church　meetings。　And　what　about　during　the　week？　He'd　be　wasting　his　education　if　he　didn't　start　a　school　for　the　children　hereabouts。　Teach　them　to　read；　to　write；　to　cipher；　and；　above　all；　to　think；　to　expunge　all　superstition　from　their　minds；　and　leave　behind　nothing　but　pure　knowledge　and　faith　in　the　Savior。
　　He　was　so　caught　up　in　these　thoughts　that　he　didn't　even　realize　he　wasn't　heading　for　Peter　McCoy's　farm　downriver；　where　his　bed　would　be　waiting　for　him　in　the　old　log　cabin。　He　was　walking　back　up　the　slope　to　the　meetinghouse。　Not　till　he　lit　a　couple　of　candles　did　he　realize　that　he　actually　meant　to　spend　the　night　here。　It　was　his　home；　these　bare　wooden　walls；　as　no　other　place　in　the　world　had　ever　been　home　to　him。　The　sappish　smell　was　like　a　madness　in　his　nostrils；　it　made　him　want　to　sing　hymns　he'd　never　even　heard　before；　and　he　sat　there　humming；　thumbing　through　the　pages　of　the　Old　Testament　without　so　much　as　noticing　that　there　were　words　on　the　paper。
　　He　didn't　hear　them　until　they　stepped　onto　the　wooden　floor。　Then　he　looked　up　and　saw；　to　his　surprise；　Mistress　Faith　carrying　a　lantern；　followed　by　the　eighteen…year…old　twins；　Wastenot　and　Wantnot。　They　were　carrying　a　large　wooden　box　between　them。　It　took　a　moment　before　he　realized　that　the　box　was　meant　to　be　an　altar。　That　in　fact　it　was　a　rather　fine　altar；　the　wood　was　tightly　fitted　as　any　master　cabinetmaker　could　manage；　beautifully　stained。　And　burnt　into　the　boards　surrounding　the　top　of　the　altar　were　two　rows　of　crosses。
　　〃Where　do　you　want　it？〃　asked　Wastenot。
　　〃Father　said　we　had　to　bring　it　down　tonight；　now　that　the　roof　and　walls　were　done。〃
　　〃Father？〃　asked　Thrower。
　　〃He　made　it　for　you　special；〃　said　Wastenot。　〃And　little　Al　burnt　in　the　crosses　hisself；　seeing　how　he　wasn't　allowed　down　here　no　more。〃
　　By　now　Thrower　was　standing　with　them；　and　he　could　see　that　the　altar　had　been　lovingly　built。　It　was　the　last　thing　he　expected　from　Alvin　Miller。　And　the　perfectly　even　crosses　hardly　looked　like　the　work　of　a　six…year…old　child。
　　〃Here；〃　he　said；　leading　them　to　the　place　where　he　had　imagined　his　altar　would　stand。　It　was　the　only　thing　in　the　meetinghouse　besides　the　walls　and　the　floor；　and　being　stained；　it　was　darker　than　the　new…wood　floor　and　walls。　It　was　perfect；　and　tears　came　to　Thrower's　eyes。　〃Tell　them　that　it's　beautiful。〃
　　Faith　and　the　boys　smiled　as　broad　as　could　be。　〃You　see　he　ain't　your　enemy；〃　said　Faith；　and　Thrower　could　only　agree。
　　〃I'm　not　his　enemy；　either；〃　he　said。　And　he　didn't　say：　I　will　win　him　over　with　love　and　patience；　but　I　will　win；　and　this　altar　is　a　sure　sign　that　in　his　heart　he　secretly　longs　for　me　to　set　him　free　from　the　darkness　of　ignorance。
　　They　didn't　linger；　but　headed　home　briskly　through　the　night。　Thrower　set　his　candlestick　on　the　floor　near　the　altar　　never　on　it；　since　that　would　smack　of　Papistry　　and　knelt　in　a　prayer　of　thanksgiving。　The　church　mostly　built；　and　a　beautiful　altar　already　inside　it；　built　by　the　man　he　had　most　feared；　the　crosses　burnt　into　it　by　the　strange　child　who　most　symbolized　the　pelling　superstitions　of　these　ignorant　people。
　　〃You're　so　full　of　pride；〃　said　a　voice　behind　him。
　　He　turned；　already　smiling；　for　he　was　always　glad　when　the　Visitor　appeared。
　　But　the　Visitor　was　not　smiling。　〃So　full　of　pride。〃
　　〃Forgive　me；〃　said　Thrower。　〃I　repent　of　it　already。　Still；　can　I　help　it　if　I　rejoice　in　the　great　work　that　is　begun　here？〃
　　The　Visitor　gently　touched　the　altar；　his　fingers　seeking　out　the　crosses。　〃He　made　this；　didn't　he？〃
　　〃Alvin　Miller。〃
　　〃And　the　boy？〃
　　〃The　crosses。　I　was　so　afraid　they　were　servants　of　the　devil〃
　　The　Visitor　looked　at　him　sharply。　〃And　because　they　built　an　altar；　you　think　that　proves　they're　not？〃
　　A　thrill　of　dread　ran　through　him；　and　Thrower　whispered；　〃I　didn't　think　the　devil　could　use　the　sign　of　the　cross〃
　　〃You're　as　superstitious　as　any　of　the　others；〃　said　the　Visitor　coldly。　〃Papists　cross　themselves　all　the　time。　Do　you　think　it's　a　hex　against　the　devil？〃
　　〃How　can　I　know　anything；　then？〃　asked　Thrower。　〃If　the　devil　can　make　an　altar　and　draw　a　cross〃
　　〃No；　no。　Thrower；　my　dear　son；　they　aren't　devils；　either　of　them。　You'll　know　the　devil　when　you　see　him。　Where　other　men　have　hair　on　their　heads；　the　devil　has　the　horns　of　a　bull。　Where　other　men　have　feet；　the　devil　has　the　cloven　hooves　of　a　goat。　Where　other　men　have　hands；　the　devil　has　the　great　paws　of　a　bear。　And　be　sure　of　this：　he'll　make　no　altars　for　you　when　he　es。〃　Then　the　Visitor　laid　both　his　hands　on　the　altar。　〃This　is　my　altar　now；〃　he　said。　〃No　matter　who　made　it；　I　can　turn　it　to　m