The Expeditions Read Online Free PDF

I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
    “I will call at your home this week, to speak with him. Sometimes we all need to be reminded of the importance of faith’s rituals.”
    “That’s not the primary trouble. He’s been studying on pamphlets by William Miller. He went to a revival in Springfield last Sunday and that’s who they were preaching on, William Miller. It’s all he wants to talk about, Miller and his prophecies, and he don’t care about a thing else.”
    The minister noticed with distaste a rime of dirt along Prudence Martin’s jaw. Strange, he thought, how much pleasure people drew from the admission of sin. As though the act itself was nothing compared to the confession and inevitable penance.
    “I’m familiar with Reverend Miller’s writings. He has made a peculiar reading of the Book of Daniel.”
    Prudence Martin nodded. “My husband selled our silver and sent Miller the money. And yesterday he spent thirty dollars on muslin for ascension robes. Thirty dollars.” She leaned toward Reverend Stone, her voice taut. “He believes what Miller says about October and the last day. He believes it in his heart.”
    “Does your husband ever speak about the last day? Does he ever describe it?”
    She nodded once. “Near daily.”
    “What does he say?”
    A flush bloomed on the woman’s cheeks and washed across her forehead. “He says the righteous shall gather on the hilltops, to witness the new millennium. And there will be riotous voices and war with the saints, and a dragon.”
    “A dragon.”
    “A crimson dragon with seven heads, with crowns on its heads. And a beast like a leopard, with the feet of a bear and mouth of a lion. And he says the righteous—Reverend Miller and his followers—will stand amidst the chaos but they shall not be harmed. He says there will be a new Jerusalem, where the righteous will dwell alongside God as neighbors, just as we’re neighbors to the Boyers.”
    Reverend Stone closed his eyes and frowned. He knew Prudence Martin’s words by rote, from Revelation, but it unnerved him to hear them from another’s mouth.
    “And he says I will be thrown amidst the unbelievers and murderers and liars and whores, and cast down. And I will burn in hell. Forever.” Prudence Martin sobbed, a sharp, surprised gasp, then buried her face in her hands.
    Reverend Stone reached toward the woman then hesitated, imagining her bony form shuddering against his shoulder. He touched her elbow, her skin startlingly warm beneath the threadbare homespun. He searched for a comforting verse of Scripture, but instead found an image of his son in the dim parlor, reading aloud from Psalms, his voice a soft high cadence, a song.
    “Tell me, Mrs. Martin: is your husband afraid of the last day? Or is he made glad?”
    Prudence Martin looked up, her lips trembling. Wildness shone in her eyes. “He says he’s glad, Reverend Stone, but I know he’s afraid. I can feel it. He’s dreadful afraid.”
    Good, the minister thought. He should be afraid. Reverend Stone rose, and the woman rose slowly with him. “I will speak with him soon. You must pray for your husband, Mrs. Martin.”
    “I do. I pray daily for him.”
    “It’s a challenge to stay the right path—even an upright man like your husband can find himself astray. He may spend hours in prayer and contemplation, then fall prey to a moment’s weakness. He may live for years in purity and good intentions, then one morning wake to find himself…confused.”
    Prudence Martin stared at Reverend Stone. Her right hand kneaded the seam of her dress.
    “Read on the Psalms, Mrs. Martin. ‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.’”
    “I’ll dwell on those words,” Prudence Martin said miserably. “I reckon there’s nothing else to do.”
    Reverend Stone murmured a farewell, then followed Prudence Martin to the meetinghouse door. Outside,