p. 162 | The Frontier Skeptic

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Nov 17, 1874

The Frontier Skeptic.

Among the early settlers in an embryo town of the North-west was a Mr. Blaine, a stalwart pioneer, noted for his courage and physical prowess. He was also, though uneducated, intelligent, well-read, and famed for his love of, and ability in, debate. His sledge-hammer fist settled many a border quarrel, while his patience under provocation, readiness at repartee, and rough, broad eloquence, made him no unworthy opponent in an intellectual tournament. An avowed infidel, he boldly challenged the claims of Christianity, and was never better pleased than when he had put to confusion some combative but ill-equipped champion of the cross.

Spring had come. As if by magic, instead of the shroud of snow and the dead, matted grass, the prairies were covered with flowers and verdure. What a suggestive scene! Mr. Parsons, the resident missionary, inspired by the re-awakening of nature, preached a stirring sermon on the resurrection. Tuesday succeeding, a deacon of the newly organized church met him, and with grave countenance said:—

“Your sermon last Sunday has caused a great deal of remark. You know the settlers drop in at the hotel of an evening. Last night a large number were there. Blaine was present, and he ridiculed your discourse unmercifully. He sent by me a request that you discuss the doctrine with him publicly. And I don’t see how you can get along with his objections.”

“What are they?” inquired the preacher.

“He argues that it would defeat justice to raise the body from the grave for purposes of reward and punishment. Because, according to physiology, the human organism undergoes a complete change in all its constituent particles once in seven, if not in every two or three, years. Now, if a man dies at forty-nine, which of the seven bodies will come forth at the sounding of the Judgment trumpet? And, he asks, Shall the body of the aged person suffer, or be made happy, for what the child-body did, when in the interim there have taken place many total transformations, each one a new creature, wholly distinct from the preceding? He stated, to illustrate this scientific fact, that a gentleman recently called on him, who turned out to be an intimate friend in their younger days, but so altered in appearance that Blaine did not recognize him. He affirms that after one of these physiological revolutions, we are as much a different being as if just born.”

“Was there no one of the company who could answer Mr. Blaine?”

“No,” was the reply.

“Well, deacon, don’t you worry. I’ll see that this matter is properly disposed of,” said his pastor, as he bade his official helper a smiling adieu.

Now “out West,” they “fight fire with fire,” sometimes. If, for example, the prairie grass is aflame, the pioneer burns toward the approaching conflagration. And the religious pioneer learns to meet error with other weapons than stately sentences, hot from the shelter of the sanctuary at non-attending cavillers.

The missionary was not wanting in frontier tact. After a meditative dinner, during which a peculiar twinkle of the eye revealed that his reflections were anything but somber, he took his way to Mr. Blaine’s, a distance of three miles. Back of that worthy’s cabin was a strip of woods. Between the latter and the dwelling on the unfenced prairie, a handsome “hobbled” horse was grazing. Warily approaching from the shadow of the trees, Mr. Parsons captured the beast, freed his legs, clapped on a halter, mounted, and, pursuing a circuitous course, reached home unobserved, and “tied up” the confiscated steed in his snug log stable.

A few hours elapsed, and Mr. Blaine and his son were rushing hither and thither, to learn if any one had seen their horse. Then the settlement was excited by a report that the lost beast had been stolen, for the owner declared that the hobble had been found in the grass, and “it could not have been removed from the limbs of the animal without hands.” Search was fruitless, however, and next day at evening twilight, a tumultuous assemblage at the village inn were talking over the occurrence with a view of devising measures to discover, if possible, the culprit, and protect the settlement against further depredations. While the company was thus occupied, Mr. Parsons came calmly riding into town on Mr. Blaine’s horse, and, proceeding to the tavern, leisurely dismounted. But he had been seen by a wide-awake urchin, who, anxious to be the first with the news, ran into the inn, shouting:—

“The minister’s come with Mr. Blaine’s horse!”

The effect was electrical. Pell mell rushed the convention out of doors, Mr. Blaine’s huge form foremost. Sure enough, there was the clergyman quietly hitching the lost horse to a post.

The gratified owner, with a grateful grin ornamenting his sun-burnt face, stepped rapidly forward, saying:—

“Well, parson, I didn’t expect that you’d be the one to recover the critter. Where’d you find her?”

“Find who?” returned the minister, in well-affected surprise.

“Why—my horse.”

“Your horse!” retorted the missionary; “do you pretend that this animal is your property?”

“Oh, now, parson, none of your joking; of course she’s mine. I could tell her from a thousand.” And he walked confidently round the beast, surveying her with a complacent air. “Just her height, build, color, style—one white foot, spot in the forehead—know her as well as I know myself.”

“Blaine’s horse, and no mistake,” echoed the bystanders.

“Gentlemen,” gravely observed the preacher, “I trust you will not be rash in your judgment. There is evidently an error somewhere. A remarkable resemblance may exist between this creature and the one my friend, Mr. Blaine, owned; but I think I can prove, even to his satisfaction, that this is an entirely different animal.”

“Different!” cried the owner; “here comes my son; see if he won’t recognize her. This way, Daniel.”

“Oh, good! There’s Nell. Where’d you find her, father?” exclaimed the lad.

“Isn’t that sufficient?” asked the father, triumphantly. “And my wife would testify to the same,” he added.

“Nevertheless,” answered the missionary, “if the crowd will do me the favor to return into the hotel, I will convince them that this is not Mr. Blaine’s beast, or surrender the animal to him until we have more light on the subject.”

“That’s fair,” responded several; “let’s hear what the pastor has to say.”

“Now, my friends,” said the missionary, after his hearers were seated, “I would like Mr. Blaine to inform us how long he has owned the beast now in dispute.”

“I bought her seven years ago this spring; my wife and boy will remember about it.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-two years last January; but I don’t see what that has to do with the case.”

“And what is the age of the lad you call your son?”

“Just seventeen,” emphatically.

“Gentlemen,” remarked the clergyman, “you have heard Mr. Blaine’s affirmations. I hope you will give them due weight. I came honestly by the animal he claims, and sincerely desire that he may lose nothing

properly belonging to him. But I shall submit evidence showing, first, that Mr. Blaine did not buy this horse; second, that this horse now claimed by him, he has no ownership in; third, that his testimony and that of the witnesses he cites is unreliable, because he was never legally married, and therefore the lady he lives with is not his wife, and the young man he terms his son, is not truly his child.”

“What’s that?” roared the pioneer, starting up. “Parson, you’re gone crazy!”

“If I have,” mildly answered the missionary, “of course I cannot sustain what I assert, and you’ll get the horse; so you can afford to listen.”

“The evidence I shall present,” he resumed, “is not of the sort commonly received in the courts, but it is of a kind that neighbor Blaine cannot consistently reject. You have heard of the science of physiology. By it we are taught that the human organism experiences a universal renewing every seven, perhaps, every two or three, years. Am I correct, Mr. Blaine?”

“Certainly, but what’s that to the point?”

“You’ll see.”

“By Mr. Blaine’s own statement—and he says his wife and boy will confirm it—he did not buy this horse within the time when this physiological change occurs. It was, therefore, another Mr. Blaine who made the purchase. Hence, it would defeat the purposes of justice for the present Mr. Blaine to claim the reward of what that other Mr. Blaine did in paying the price of the animal. At the end of seven years, that Mr. Blaine became extinct, and this man bearing the same name is as much a new being as if just brought into the world. He is not, then, the proprietor of this horse. Moreover, the horse that the first Mr. Blaine paid for, ceased also to be, at the termination of the seven years. And the existing animal is, in all her constituent particles, another beast, a colt, so to speak, without sire or dam, dropped full grown, by physiological science. What right has Mr. Blaine to this new horse? True, Mr. Blaine professes to identify the animal—and yet he could not identify his old friend, because the fatal physiological transformation had been passed! I should be sorry to question his veracity. But, gentlemen, twenty-two years ago last January, a certain Mr. Blaine was married. Seven years flew by, and his wife ceased to be, physiologically. Another Mr. Blaine sat by the fireside, and another Mrs. Blaine sat by his side. Did they live together conjugally? Certainly not, if honest, unless united in marriage. Three times the physiological change came, the present Mr. Blaine and lady being the final result. They pass as husband and wife. Who has seen their marriage certificate? It would ‘defeat the purposes of justice’ for this couple to enjoy the privileges of wedded life, on the strength of the ceremony performed twenty-two years ago, for the pair then made one. Consider, too, the condition of young Daniel—kept in subjection, forced to do duty as a child, when the Mr. and Mrs. Blaine who claim his obedience and service, are not the persons of whom he was born, and he not the being that then gladdened the parental hearts. To recapitulate. This Mr. Blaine, according to physiology, is not the Mr. Blaine who bought a horse seven years ago last spring. This horse, according to physiology, is not the horse that was then purchased. This Mr. Blaine is not the Mr. Blaine, by the same evidence, who was married twenty-two years ago. Daniel Blaine is not the son that was born seventeen years ago. I have, therefore, demonstrated that the horse claimed by Mr. Blaine is not his, and as they are leading such irregular lives, of what value is their testimony? I rest the case here.”

The applause that followed this speech made it plain that the keen-witted frontiersmen saw the point. When the uproar had subsided, Mr. Blaine frankly said:—

“Well, parson, I own that you’ve beat me this time.”

“Do you confess that these physiological changes do not destroy personal identity? That, if a man, for instance, commits murder at twenty, it would be right to hang him for it at fifty?”

“Yes.”

“Do you then give up the physiological objection to the resurrection of the dead?”

“Guess I shall have to.”

“Then I give up the horse. Gentlemen,” he added, addressing the listening group, “Mr. Blaine had often said to me, ‘When you want to use my nag, just take her along,’ so wishing last Tuesday to use her for his special benefit, I availed myself of his offer. And as in finding his horse he has found the truth, I trust he will forgive the inconvenience to which my little stratagem has subjected him.”—Examiner and Chronicle.