November 3, 1844, Sunday.

There was light snow on the ground and a chill in the air as Jim Tanner prepared to walk the short distance to the courthouse for the Baptist church service. Before he'd taken two steps, however, he was surprised to see a wagon pull up in front of the Peace and Poverty. A man got out, in middle years, wearing a long black suit and a hat Jim thought of as Amish. But he wasn't – Amish, we mean. He was Father O'Neil, a Catholic priest.

Jim nodded hello to the priest, who nodded back and went inside. A few steps further, Jim ran into Mr Dougherty, with Mrs Dougherty and Kate. As the elders were talking to Mr Gallagher at the door, Jim asked Kate, 'Are you going to have your own service today?'

Kate nodded. 'Yes. Father O'Neil's going to say mass for us. He's going to use my piano as an altar table!' She seemed impressed by this dual use, so Jim agreed that this was a fine thing.

Heading for the Baptists, Jim reflected on the enormous religious diversity in his corner of the world. The Doughertys and Gallaghers were about the only Catholics in Brookville, but there were plenty of them in Fryburg, only 30 miles away. There were Dunkers and Baptists and Campbellites, Methodists, German Lutherans, Mennonites and Amish, Presbyterians in various flavours, and even the occasional Episcopalian. There might even be a Muggletonian or two, not to mention the wandering Millerites and Mormons.

Jim was aware that there were Jews in the world, and he'd heard from travellers of even more exotic religions, such as Hindoos and Mohammedans. He knew the Indians used to worship the Great Spirit before the missionaries showed up and changed the names. But he wondered whether, for sheer multiplicity of interpretations, Christianity could ever be beaten as a source of philosophies. Of course, he didn't word it like that.

What he said was, 'I wonder if any two people around here see the world the exact same way?'

Just before he got to the courthouse, Jim caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spied a furtive vole emerging from a hole under the fresh snow. Its round ears and twitching nose gave Jim an emotional start. As it dashed for cover under the nearest shed, Jim had a series of thoughts.

'Nobody saw that vole but me. If it weren't for me, nobody would know it was there.'

'I might just be the only human that saw that vole.'

'That feeling I had about the vole: that was caring.'

Thus reasoning, in a manner perhaps less grand than an ecclesiastic's, and less poetic than Isaac Watts', Jim betook himself to the Baptist Sunday service.

Today's opening hymn was 'Blest Is the Man Whose Bowels Move'.

Blest is the man whose bowels move

And melt with pity to the poor,

Whose soul, by sympathizing love,

Feels what his fellow saints endure.

Several children sniggered and were promptly shushed by parents. Jim thought he knew what Isaac Watts meant, though he wished he'd picked a better expression, even if 'bowels of mercy' were mentioned in the Bible. When the preacher started talking, he understood why he'd picked that hymn.

'Brethren and sisters, I want to read you from the Scriptures.'

But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.

Matthew 24:36

'Now, if Jesus himself didn't know when the Second Coming was going to happen, how in God's creation does anybody else? It is a SIN to count numbers and days in the Bible! God Himself punished King David for counting people! And even if our government does it, that don't make it right.'

Uh-oh, thought Jim. Please, please, stick to the subject.

Jim's prayer was heard because the preacher cleared his throat and went back to the sin of overconfident eschatology. 'William Miller may be sincere, but he is wrong! And his error has hurt a lot of people. Two of those people, the Wolvertons, are staying with the Fergusons right now.'

Heads turned to look at Josiah, who was sitting as usual beside Jim.

'Now, those folks are homeless because of this mess. They need to get to Ohio to their cousins, but they are thrown destitute upon this world by a heartless, ungrateful son. They arrived in Brookville with nothing but the clothes on their backs, having wandered through the wilderness alone and subject to every kind of terror.'

There were gasps from the congregation. Several of the older children looked at their parents in horror. They couldn't imagine leaving them like that. The preacher went on.

'We're going to take up a love offering right now,' he announced. 'While Mrs Johnston plays her musical saw, give what you feel led to give so that these people can get to a new home.' And, surprisingly, the preacher stopped talking. One of the deacons led a short prayer, also surprising, and while Mrs Johnston played 'Nearer, My God, to Thee' on the saw, they collected the offering. Jim threw in a few pennies of his own, wishing he had more to give those terrified, confused people. The 'heathen' the missionaries talked about might be far away, but Jim had seen those people cowering in a cold, dark cemetery.

After the service, there was another surprise in store for Jim and Josiah. As they, Cherry, and Hannibal shook hands with the preacher, Mrs Ludlum came up and thrust a parcel into Josiah's hands.

'It ain't much,' she apologised. 'Just a shirt and a shift I had. But those people need clothes. Take it to them.'

Another couple came up with a blanket, and yet another with a pair of homemade moccasins. Still others had packets of jerky, dried fruit, hardtack. So many parcels were thrust at them that it was hard to hold them all. Hannibal ran for the cart, which they loaded up. Jeremiah Schuyler, one of the deacons, volunteered to ride out with them to deliver the cash money they'd collected. The few dollars they had afforded would help, and Mr Dougherty and a couple of the other businessmen would make up the rest of the fare. The Wolvertons would be on their way on the next day's stage.

At the Ferguson farm, Jim and the others found the Wolvertons looking much better than they had on Halloween night. Mrs Wolverton, wearing an old bonnet of Mrs Ferguson's, was happily playing with the Ferguson's baby, and Mr Wolverton helped to unload the wagon with every expression of gratitude he could muster.

'I knew the Baptists would come through,' was the comment of Josiah's son William. 'Now, all of you sit down and have some refreshment before you leave.'

Before they could object, he added meaningfully, 'We have a lot of pumpkin pie to get through.'

Hannibal laughed.

Back at home in the Peace and Poverty, full of pumpkin pie, Jim reflected that he had seen God that day.

Dmitri Gheorgheni