CHAPTER VII.

THE next Saturday Susan was busy preparing two rooms for Mr. Eden—­a homely but bright bedroom looking eastward, and a snug room where he could be quiet downstairs.  Snowy sheets and curtains and toilet-cover showed the good housewife.  The windows were open, and a beautiful nosegay of Susan’s flowers on the table.  Mr. Eden’s eye brightened at the comfort and neatness and freshness of the whole thing; and Susan, who watched him furtively, felt pleased to see him pleased.

On Sunday he preached in the parish church.  The sermon was opposite to what the good people here had been subject to; instead of the vague and cold generalities of an English sermon, he drove home-truths home in business-like English.  He used a good many illustrations, and these were drawn from matters with which this particular congregation were conversant.  He was as full of similes here as he was sparing of them when he preached before the University of Oxford.  Any one who had read this sermon in a book of sermons would have divined what sort of congregation it was preached to—­a primrose of a sermon.  Mr. Eden preached from notes and to the people—­not the air.  Like every born orator, he felt his way with his audience, whereas the preacher who is not an orator throws out his fine things, hit or miss, and does not know and feel and care whether he is hitting or missing.  “Open your hand, shut your eyes, and fling out the good seed so much per foot—­that is enough.”  No.  This man preached to the faces and hearts that happened to be round him.  He established between himself and them a pulse, every throb of which he felt and followed.  If he could not get hold of them one way, he tried another; he would have them—­he was not there to fail.  His discourse was human; it was man speaking to man on the most vital and interesting topic in the world or out of it; it was more, it was brother speaking to brother.  Hence some singular phenomena.  First, when he gave the blessing (which is a great piece of eloquence commonly reduced to a very small one by monotonous or feeble delivery), and uttered it, like his discourse, with solemnity, warmth, tenderness and all his soul, the people lingered some moments in the church and seemed unwilling to go at all.  Second, nobody mistook their pew for their four-poster during the sermon.  This was the more remarkable as many of the congregation had formed a steady habit of coming to this place once a week with the single view of snatching an hour’s repose from earthly and heavenly cares.

The next morning Mr. Eden visited some of the poorest people in the parish.  Susan accompanied him, all eyes and ears.  She observed that his line was not to begin by dictating his own topic, but lie in wait for them; let them first choose their favorite theme, and so meet them on this ground, and bring religion to bear on it.  “Oh, how wise he is!” thought Susan, “and how he knows the heart!”