Men of the Bible; Some Lesser-Known Characters
Enoch was the bright particular star of the patriarchal epoch. His record is short, but eloquent. It is crowded into a few words, but every word, when placed under examination, expands indefinitely. Every virtue may be read into them; every eulogium possible to a human character shines from them. He was a devout man, a fearless preacher of righteousness, an intimate friend of God, and the only man of his dispensation who did not see death. He sheds a lustre on the antediluvian age, and he shines still as an example to all generations of steady and lofty piety. It is difficult to realise the exact environment of the early patriarchs. Human society was then in its making. There were giants in those days, both physically and intellectually. They lived long, and unfolded a vigorous manhood, by which civilisation was developed in every direction. Some of them, also, were tenderly responsive to supernatural influences, and thus rose to a spiritual stature which enables them to bulk largely in sacred history. The guiding lines of Enoch's biography are clear though few. "_He walked with God_"; "_he pleased God_"; "_he was translated that he should not see death_." These are the pregnant remnants of his history,
and they lighted it only twice. We could just see two pairs of legs and
that was all. And a stick."
"A stick?"
"I think it was a shovel," said Clint.
"Were the lights on the car lighted all this time?"
"No, sir, they put them out."
"Could you see the car enough to say whether it was a big one or a
little one?"
"No, sir," said Clint, "but I have an idea it was sort of small. The
engine sounded like it."
"Suppose you give me your names." They did so and the Chief took off the
telephone receiver again. "Hello! Get me Brimfield Academy at
Brimfield. This is Chief Carey. I want to talk with the president--"
"Principal, sir," whispered Amy.
"With the principal." A minute or two passed in silence. Then: "Hello,"
said the Chief. "Is this Brimfield Academy? Well, who am I talking to,
please? Mr. Ferner? Fernald?" He looked questioningly at Clint and Clint
Enoch was the bright particular star of the patriarchal epoch. His record is short, but eloquent. It is crowded into a few words, but every word, when placed under examination, expands indefinitely. Every virtue may be read into them; every eulogium possible to a human character shines from them. He was a devout man, a fearless preacher of righteousness, an intimate friend of God, and the only man of his dispensation who did not see death. He sheds a lustre on the antediluvian age, and he shines still as an example to all generations of steady and lofty piety. It is difficult to realise the exact environment of the early patriarchs. Human society was then in its making. There were giants in those days, both physically and intellectually. They lived long, and unfolded a vigorous manhood, by which civilisation was developed in every direction. Some of them, also, were tenderly responsive to supernatural influences, and thus rose to a spiritual stature which enables them to bulk largely in sacred history. The guiding lines of Enoch's biography are clear though few. "_He walked with God_"; "_he pleased God_"; "_he was translated that he should not see death_." These are the pregnant remnants of his history,