“Over Against His Own House”
By Adelaide D. Wellman
A Story of Religious Inconsistency “ARE you going to church to-day, Howard?” Since Mrs. Reynolds came, a widow, to her brother’s home, few were the Sunday mornings when she had not put that question to him, and fewer were the times when she had received other than an affirmative answer. Mr. Finley’s sense of humor often prompted him to surprise his sister with an evasive or negative answer, but he was restrained by consideration for her peace of mind. Mrs. Reynolds felt—though perhaps she would not have so stated—that her brother was less religious than she. His Christianity was not announced by a trumpet, yet no one who had close acquaintance with him, business or social, failed to recognize and respect his quiet adherence to Christian principles. After the church services that day, Mrs. Reynolds said to her brother, “Howard, I wish you would go around by Wendall Lane on our way home.” That implied a considerable lengthening of the distance; but Mr. Finley was an indulgent brother, and as requested, he headed for Wendall Lane, though his sister did not give a very intelligible reason for wishing to take that route. Her purpose became apparent, however, when they came in view of a new residence, and she said: “O Howard, slow down! I want you to look at that house. Do notice those porches, and the coping on the east side. Aren’t they fine? I just wish you would have our place fixed like that.” “I think not to-day, Agnes.” “Why, of course not to-day, Howard.” If there was irony in her brother’s reply, she failed to observe it. Her mind was concentrated on the proposed alterations in “our” property. Yet not so much preoccupied were her thoughts that she did not notice the unusual spectacle, after they had turned into Wendall Lane, of a man working in his garden on Sunday afternoon. “Heathenish!” exclaimed the zealously religious soul. “There ought to be a law to prevent such desecration of Sunday.” “I hope it won’t molest me for traveling about the country on Sunday to look up building designs and other devices for improving real estate.” Mrs. Reynolds never could understand her brother’s mild raillery, and now she replied, “O, surely no one would think of dictating about the road one should take from church.” “There’s no limit to the lengths people are likely to go when they set about legislating on other folks’ religious duty. You doubtless remember that some of the American colonies demonstrated that religious laws are dangerous tools to handle.” “O, but those colonists were of course fanatics—punished a man once for kissing his wife on returning from a long sea voyage, didn’t they? People are not so bigoted now.” “And the Jews of Christ’s time made complaint against His disciples for rubbing out a few heads of grain in their hands to eat one Sabbath day.” “More bigots, to be sure! But here we are at home again finally. Why, those artichokes are large enough to eat, aren’t they? Bring in a few, Howard, and we’ll have some for dinner. And O, that dock! Do pull it up! I so dislike to see it growing in the yard.” Mrs. Reynolds did not observe the quizzical expression on Mr. Finley’s face, nor guess that he was querying whether the law she proposed against Sunday gardening would exempt her and her family. Presumably most of us have more rational ideas of Sabbath observance than had this would-be dictator; but doubtless we would become involved in as absurd inconsistencies if we were to direct our energies toward compelling other people to conform to our ideas. Good citizenship and good religion both imply recognition of individual rights in individual matters.