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Authors: Carol Ryrie Brink
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the axle was mended and Emma knew that she must be on her way home.
“Come in to Eau Galle tomorrow, Emma,” said Dr. Hearty, “and I’ll let you do your bird imitations for all the people.”
Emma smiled and shook her head.
“My mother couldn’t spare me off another day, I guess.”
“Well, anyway, here’s a parting gift,” said the doctor, “and thank you kindly for helping me get out of the mudhole.”
He held out a shiny new bottle of Dr. Hearty’s Marvelous Cure-All.
Emma took it with reverence and awe.
“I don’t seem to need much medicine,” she said, “but I’ll always keep it just like this to remember you by.”
It was cool and fresh walking home in the starlight withso many things to think about and the wonderful bottle clutched under her arm.
When she was almost at the little lane that turned down between the Woodlawns’ and the Nightingales’ places, she heard Mr. Woodlawn’s wagon come rattling along behind her.
“Oh, Emma, whatever happened to you?” cried the girls. “But it’s just as well you didn’t come. What do you think? There wasn’t any show at all!”
“Do tell!” said Emma, turning in at the lane. “I’m real sorry that you didn’t get to see the show!”
Behind the barn a whippoorwill gave out its wistful cry, and Emma answered it.
SEVEN
The Circuit Rider’s Story
“Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days,”
said Mr. Tanner. “Put your faith in prayer. The Lord will provide.”
Mr. Tanner was not in church; he was not preaching a sermon. But, having delivered himself of three good texts, he stretched his long legs toward the Woodlawns’ fire and prepared to tell a story.
“I was brought up on those three texts,” Mr. Tanner continued. “You see, my father was a circuit rider before me. There were a passel of us young ones, and we grew up in the worst kind of poverty; but, when we thought that we should have to go to bed hungry for lack of food to put in our mouths, the Lord was always sure to provide.”
Warren looked at Mr. Tanner’s brown, rugged face and asked timidly, “Could you see Him? Did He come Himself?”
It was not a strange question, for Mr. Tanner made heaven seem close and eternal punishment yawn as near by as the root cellar. He made the Lord seem a friendly person who might walk in at any moment with loaves and fishes in His hands.
“How would you answer that one, Mr. Ward?” inquired the circuit rider.
Mr. Ward was a pale, slender young man with a diffident smile. The Woodlawns all looked at him now to see what he would say. For Mr. Ward was to be the new preacher, the one who would live in Dunnville in a house of his own all the year round instead of riding the circuit. Tomorrow he would preach his first sermon in the schoolhouse, and after that the people of the town were planning to build him a church with lumber from the mill at Eau Galle. It was a sign that the town was growing. When they had a church of their own and a regular preacher instead of a circuit rider, it meant that pioneer days were almost over.
Mr. Ward had said very little that evening, but now he answered Warren’s question about the Lord.
“I don’t guess Mr. Tanner saw the Lord Himself. God has mysterious ways of making provision for those who love Him. He has all kinds of messengers.”
“I will tell you a story,” said Mr. Tanner.
Tom and Caddie and Warren moved closer to the fire and to Mr. Tanner’s long legs. It was not so much to be near the warmth of the fire on the first chilly evening of autumn as it was to be near the source of the story. They did not want to miss a word. Stories were as rare and delightful as apples or peppermint candy.
“As I was saying just now, my father was a circuit rider like myself. His circuit was back East in a section that’s pretty well civilized now. But in those days it was as much a frontier as Wisconsin has been since I came here.”
“Were there Indians
“Come in to Eau Galle tomorrow, Emma,” said Dr. Hearty, “and I’ll let you do your bird imitations for all the people.”
Emma smiled and shook her head.
“My mother couldn’t spare me off another day, I guess.”
“Well, anyway, here’s a parting gift,” said the doctor, “and thank you kindly for helping me get out of the mudhole.”
He held out a shiny new bottle of Dr. Hearty’s Marvelous Cure-All.
Emma took it with reverence and awe.
“I don’t seem to need much medicine,” she said, “but I’ll always keep it just like this to remember you by.”
It was cool and fresh walking home in the starlight withso many things to think about and the wonderful bottle clutched under her arm.
When she was almost at the little lane that turned down between the Woodlawns’ and the Nightingales’ places, she heard Mr. Woodlawn’s wagon come rattling along behind her.
“Oh, Emma, whatever happened to you?” cried the girls. “But it’s just as well you didn’t come. What do you think? There wasn’t any show at all!”
“Do tell!” said Emma, turning in at the lane. “I’m real sorry that you didn’t get to see the show!”
Behind the barn a whippoorwill gave out its wistful cry, and Emma answered it.
SEVEN
The Circuit Rider’s Story
“Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days,”
said Mr. Tanner. “Put your faith in prayer. The Lord will provide.”
Mr. Tanner was not in church; he was not preaching a sermon. But, having delivered himself of three good texts, he stretched his long legs toward the Woodlawns’ fire and prepared to tell a story.
“I was brought up on those three texts,” Mr. Tanner continued. “You see, my father was a circuit rider before me. There were a passel of us young ones, and we grew up in the worst kind of poverty; but, when we thought that we should have to go to bed hungry for lack of food to put in our mouths, the Lord was always sure to provide.”
Warren looked at Mr. Tanner’s brown, rugged face and asked timidly, “Could you see Him? Did He come Himself?”
It was not a strange question, for Mr. Tanner made heaven seem close and eternal punishment yawn as near by as the root cellar. He made the Lord seem a friendly person who might walk in at any moment with loaves and fishes in His hands.
“How would you answer that one, Mr. Ward?” inquired the circuit rider.
Mr. Ward was a pale, slender young man with a diffident smile. The Woodlawns all looked at him now to see what he would say. For Mr. Ward was to be the new preacher, the one who would live in Dunnville in a house of his own all the year round instead of riding the circuit. Tomorrow he would preach his first sermon in the schoolhouse, and after that the people of the town were planning to build him a church with lumber from the mill at Eau Galle. It was a sign that the town was growing. When they had a church of their own and a regular preacher instead of a circuit rider, it meant that pioneer days were almost over.
Mr. Ward had said very little that evening, but now he answered Warren’s question about the Lord.
“I don’t guess Mr. Tanner saw the Lord Himself. God has mysterious ways of making provision for those who love Him. He has all kinds of messengers.”
“I will tell you a story,” said Mr. Tanner.
Tom and Caddie and Warren moved closer to the fire and to Mr. Tanner’s long legs. It was not so much to be near the warmth of the fire on the first chilly evening of autumn as it was to be near the source of the story. They did not want to miss a word. Stories were as rare and delightful as apples or peppermint candy.
“As I was saying just now, my father was a circuit rider like myself. His circuit was back East in a section that’s pretty well civilized now. But in those days it was as much a frontier as Wisconsin has been since I came here.”
“Were there Indians
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