with the autumn began for the pastor the most pleasing duty of the year—the instruction of his class for confirmation. he announced in church one sunday that after the service he would be in the sacristy to take the names of any of the young people who wished to join the proposed class. he was sitting in the sacristy at the appointed time, with a group of young rustics standing about him, when johanson came quietly in.

"i can attend to you first," said the pastor, turning kindly towards the dark-bearded man.

"i can wait; i am in no hurry," was the reply.

the waiting was long, as had been expected. when the boys and girls had all gone out, johanson stepped to the pastor's side and said, "please put down my name."[pg 119]

"for what?" asked the pastor, in astonishment.

"for the confirmation class," was the calm reply. "i have never been confirmed."

the pastor had noticed, naturally, that johanson had not been forward to the lord's supper even when the cellar-master had been helped up the aisle from the poorhouse seat near the door, and gull and the half-mad poet had decorously followed. at this he had hardly been surprised, for there were other members of the congregation who did not communicate more than once a year. the good man felt a sudden repulsion towards the stranger still without the christian pale.

"you wish then to be confirmed?" said the pastor, looking johanson directly in the eye.

"i wish to receive the instruction, and it will be your duty to judge of my fitness afterwards," was the reply.

"perhaps i could find time to teach you privately, though it is a busy season, with all the certificates of removal and that kind of thing," said the pastor doubtfully.

"i would rather be taught as you teach these young people," said johanson. "please try to forget that i am not a boy."

that was a hard duty to impose on the pastor,[pg 120] who looked into the browned face and the troubled dark eyes. he did not promise, but simply said, "the class, as you heard, will meet in the dining-room at the parsonage on wednesday afternoon. i hope the instructions may be blessed to you," and they parted.

wednesday came. the available chairs in the pastor's simple home had been ranged in long rows on each side of the dining-room.

"may i sit here, dear, with my work?" said the pastor's wife, coming in with a basket of stockings in one hand, her needle and yarn for darning in the other.

she did not expect to be refused, nor was she, though a little girl of five years old, her only child, held pertinaciously on to her dress. "i may come too, papa; i am sure i may," said a sweet, cheery voice, and only a pleasant smile was the reply. the mother sat down in one of the chairs still at the table, and the little girl took joyously a place at her side.

"i always like to hear your confirmation instructions, for many reasons," said the wife. "i seem to take a fresh start in the right direction with the children."[pg 121]

the pastor seated himself at the head of the table, with his books before him, laying near them the list of the names of the class.

the pastor was a stout, sensible-looking man, with a plain, quiet face, and a modest, shy air. indeed, he was hardly at ease anywhere, except in his home, or in the pulpit or chancel, where the sense of the sacredness of his official duties made him unmindful of earthly witnesses.

now he thought it a stay to have his wife with him; for the informal nature of the meeting, and the beginning of something new, made the whole at first an effort for him.

perhaps the pastor, in the presence of persons of high standing, found it impossible to forget his humble birth, and suspected that in some way there was always a lack of gentility about him; while with companions of more modest pretensions he must maintain the distant dignity which he fancied appertained to his profession.

he was a straightforward, matter-of-fact man, who intended in all things, temporal and spiritual, to do his duty. he believed fully in the inspiration of the bible from cover to cover, and was possibly convinced that every word, and almost every letter, in the[pg 122] then authorized swedish version had a sanction not to be disputed. in his view the sacraments, properly administered, were direct, undoubted channels of grace. the organization of his church was perfect, he was sure, to the least particular, and would have the approval of the apostles were they now on earth, though during their lives the circumstances of their surroundings might have made it impossible for them to have their ministrations conducted according to the admirable order so long established in sweden. martin luther he looked upon as having a kind of supplemental apostleship, almost as incontestable as that of peter himself. luther's catechism was for him the best medium for imparting religious instruction to children, and for strengthening the christian life of young people approaching maturity. with this sound, hearty belief in what he was called on to teach, and with the rules for his ministrations, his work was simple and most agreeable.

the pastor was not an emotional man. he had never been deeply stirred by religious feelings of any kind. he had had no agonies of penitence, no distressing doubts, no strong struggles with temper, no vivid thought of the possibility of his being excluded from eternal blessedness. his heavenly father[pg 123] was to him rather a theological abstraction than a near and ever-loving friend. the saviour was to him more an element in a perfect creed than the deliverer—the hand stretched out to the drowning man—the one hope of poor tempted humanity.

the pastor was, in his way, a good man, a kind man, an unselfish, true, sincere man. peaceful he lived, peaceful he ministered, and yet heart to heart he came with no human brother. with no human brother, we say; but there was one woman whose life interpenetrated his, if they did not in all things come heart to heart. her presence gave him a sense of sunshine and quiet happiness that was the greatest joy of which his nature was capable.

merry, impulsive, devoted, self-sacrificing by nature, the whole existence of the pastor's wife was pervaded by a christian life that exalted her naturally lovely traits, and made her shortcomings the source of a sweet, childlike penitence that was almost as lovely and attractive as her virtues. she had soon found that the deep language of her inner soul was to her husband an unknown tongue. of her spiritual struggles and joys and exaltations she did not speak to him or to any other human being. they were her secret with her god and saviour. yet her husband[pg 124] stood to her on a pinnacle, as rounded in character, blameless in life, and perfect in his ministrations. almost angelic he seemed to her when he stood in the chancel, and in his deep, melodious voice sang all the parts of the service that the church rules allowed to be so given.

the pastor's sermons were excellent compositions. compositions they were in the strictest sense of the word. the epistles and gospels for the ecclesiastical year were the authorized and usual subjects for the sermons, being called even in common parlance "the text for the day." these texts had been so elaborated and expounded by wise divines whose works were to be had in print, that when a sermon was to be written, our pastor but got out his books of sermons, studied, compared, compiled, extracted, transformed, and rewrote, until on friday his sermon for the coming sunday was always ready. he had made it his own by hard, conscientious work, and not without a deep sense that he was, in his way, to deliver a divine message as an authorized ambassador of the king of kings, accredited and appointed in an unimpeachable manner.

with his confirmation class the pastor was different. he was fond of young people. he had[pg 125] been young himself, and had not forgotten the circumstance.

he was getting a little impatient to see the fresh faces he was expecting at the first meeting of the class, when johanson made his appearance, bowed distantly, and took the seat nearest the door. he had passed through a knot of young people without, who were, with some cuffing and shoving, contending who should go in first on this to them august occasion. johanson had left the door slightly ajar, and little elsa, the pastor's child, having caught a glimpse of a familiar face, ran out, to come back immediately leading triumphantly a rosy-cheeked girl, who was all blushes as she was brought into the dining-room, made to her for the time sacred ground. of course, the whole troop from without, boys and girls, followed, taking opposite sides of the room.

it proved that johanson had taken his seat on the girls' side, and carefully away from him the skirts of those nearest to him were drawn; for it had been whispered around the parish that the queer man at the poorhouse had never been confirmed. an outcast of the outcasts he must be, was the common conviction.

a hymn was to be sung, all sitting, to open the[pg 126] meeting. little elsa went round with the "psalm-books" in a basket, and began with johanson, who took one as he was requested. the pastor began, and the young voices joined him. there was a hush for a second, when a wonderful tenor came in, and seemed to fill the room with a strange melody.

but one verse was sung; then followed a short prayer from the church liturgy, after which the lesson began.

johanson sat alone in his corner, when elsa tripped away from her mother, and giving a gleeful little hop, she seated herself beside him, laid her small hand lightly on his knee, and looked up at him lovingly and protectingly as she did so. now she felt she really owned him. he was her poor man, a kind of friend and relation to her.

through all those long preparatory lessons elsa kept her place by the side of the dark man, without word or comment from her parents.

the time for the confirmation was drawing near. "i do not know what i shall do about johanson," said the pastor to his wife. "i get nothing from him in the class except plain, direct, and most correct answers to my questions. i suppose it must be all right, but we don't seem to come near to each other at[pg 127] all. he is a wild, strange man. perhaps you could somehow get on better with him."

"maybe elsa could," said the wife. "she loves him. perhaps that is what he feels the need of among us who call ourselves christians."

"call ourselves christians!" repeated the pastor, in as severe a tone of reproach as he had ever addressed to his wife.

she did not seem to notice his manner, but went on: "elsa might reach him. you know it says, 'a little child shall lead them.' i'll send her to the poorhouse this afternoon with a message to johanson from me, and the book she likes so much. i know which is her favourite picture, and she will be sure to tell him about it."

"send her to the poorhouse!" exclaimed the pastor.

"she's been there often with me when i've been there to wind up gull's clock, which she is sure to get out of order if gull touches it herself. elsa is not afraid of any of them, even of the cellar-master. he really likes her."

the pastor was called away suddenly, and he was glad, for that was one of the occasions when he did not quite understand his wife.