This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1882 edition. Excerpt: ...had ever personally heard this opinion of himself, the verbal expression thereof would have given him but slight annoyance compared with that which he experienced from his own inner man as he paddled down the stream. To forcibly resist something so satisfied the strongest demand of his nature, that neither shortening breath nor blistering hands caused him to slacken the speed with which he forced his paddle against the water. But another contest was going on, and in this the consistent theologian was not so triumphant as he liked always to be. Harry Wainright was one of the ungodly; that he i, owned (and frequently occupied) a high-priced pew in Mr. Brown's own church was only another reason why the preacher should quote concerning him, "He that being often reproved hardeneth his neck "--what if the conclusion of the same passage, "shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy" should apply? What could prevent its doing so if Wainright had fulfilled the description in the first half? Had not the same God inspired the whole passage? If so, what right had any man, least of all a minister of the Gospel, to try to set at naught the Divine will? Harry Wainright was, according to the decrees of an unchangeable God, one of the lost, --as much so as if he were already in the bottomless pit. And still the old man's paddle flew; once on the trip he had felt as if the weakness of the arm of flesh would decide the case for him, and in favour of the Word whose expounder he was; he found himself wishing that it might, so that he could feel that although God had overruled him he might have comfort in the assurance that he had not proved indifferent to his sudden emotion of yearning for his fellow-man. But that mysterious...

The Barton Experiment is a classic work of fiction by the American author John Habberton, famous for "Helen's Babies".

Long and loud rang all the church bells of Barton on a certain summer evening twenty years ago. It was not a Sunday evening, for during an accidental lull there was heard, afar off yet distinctly, the unsanctified notes of the mail-carrier’s horn. And yet the doors of the village stores, which usually stood invitingly open until far into the night, were now tightly closed, while the patrons of the several drinking-shops of Barton congregated quietly within the walls of their respective sources of inspiration, instead of forming, as was their usual wont, lively groups on the sidewalk. The truth was, Barton was about to indulge in a monster temperance meeting. The “Sons of Temperance,” as well as the “Daughters” and “Cadets” thereof, the “Washingtonians,” the “Total Abstinence Society,” and all various religious bodies in the village had joined their forces for a grand demonstration against King Alcohol. The meeting had been appropriately announced, for several successive Sundays, from each pulpit in Barton; the two school-teachers of Barton had repeatedly informed their pupils of the time and object of the meeting; the “Barton Register” had devoted two leaders and at least a dozen items to the subject; and a poster, in the largest type and reddest ink which the “Register” office could supply, confronted one at every fork and crossing of roads leading to and from Barton, and informed every passer-by that Major Ben Bailey, the well-known champion of the temperance cause, would address the meeting, that the “Crystal Spring Glee Club” would sing a number of stirring songs, and that the Barton Brass Band had also been secured for the evening. The only inducement which might have been lacking was found at the foot of the poster, in the two words, “Admittance Free.” No wonder the villagers crowded to the Methodist Church, the most commodious gathering-place in the town. Long before the bells had ceased clanging the church was so full that children occupying full seats were accommodatingly taken on the laps of their parents, larger children were lifted to the window-sills, deaf people were removed from the pews to the altar steps, and chairs were brought from the various residences and placed in the aisles. Outside the church, crowds stood about near the windows, while more prudent persons made seats of logs from the woodpile which the country members of the congregation had already commenced to form against the approaching winter. A sudden hush of the whispering multitude ushered in the clergy of Barton, and, for once, the four reverend gentlemen really seemed desirous of uniting against a common enemy instead of indulging in their customary quadrangular duel. Then, amid a general clapping of hands, the members of the Crystal Spring Glee Club filed in and took reserved seats at the right of the altar; while the Barton Brass Band, announced by a general shriek of “Oh!” from all the children present, seated themselves on a raised platform on the left.