A skeptic fears Christians as hypocrites but faces danger trusting strangers in the wilderness.
Two men were once travelling in the far west; one was a skeptic, the other a Christian. The former was on every occasion ready to denounce religion as an imposture and professors as hypocrites. According to his own account of the matter, he always suspected those who made pretensions to piety, felt particularly exposed in the company of Christians, and took special care of his horse and watch when the saints were around him. They had travelled late one evening and were in the wilderness. They at last drew near to a solitary hut and rejoiced in the prospect of a shelter, however humble. They asked admission and obtained it. But it was almost as dreary and comfortless within, as without; and there was nothing prepossessing in the appearance of its inhabitants. These were an elderly man, his wife, and two sons, sunburnt, hardy and rough. They were apparently hospitable, and welcomed our travellers to such homely fare as the forest afforded; but this air of kindness might be assumed to deceive them; and the travellers became seriously apprehensive that evil was intended. It was a lonely place well suited to deeds of robbery and blood.
No help was at hand. The two friends communicated to each other their suspicions, and resolved that on retiring to their part of the hut, they would barricade the door against the entrance of their host, that they would have their weapons of defence at hand, that they would alternate in watching, so that one should be constantly on his guard while his companion slept. Having hastily made their arrangements, they joined the family, partook of the homely meal and spoke of retiring to rest. The old man said it had been his practice in better times and he continued it still, before his family retired, to commend them to God, and if the strangers had no objection he would do so now. The Christian rejoiced to find a brother in the wilderness, and even the skeptic could not conceal his satisfaction at the proposition. The old man then took down a well-worn Bible on which no dust had gathered though age had marked it, and read with emphasis a portion of the Sacred Scriptures. He then supplicated the divine protection, acknowledged the divine goodness, and prayed for grace, guidance, and salvation. He prayed too for the strangers—that they might be prospered in their journey, and when their earthly journey was done, they might have a home in heaven. He was evidently a man of prayer, and that humble cottage was a place where prayer was wont to be made. The travellers retired to their apartment; according to their arrangement the skeptic was to have the first watch during the night;
but instead of priming his pistols and bracing his nerves for an attack he was for lying down to sleep as quietly as if he had never thought of danger.
His friend reminded him of their engagement, and asked where he had lost his apprehension of danger. Ah; the infidel felt the force of the question and all it implied; and had the frankness to confess that he could not but feel as safe as at a New England fireside, in any house or in any forest where the Bible was read as the old man read it, and prayer was offered as that old man prayed.
