Connecticut western news., 1879-02-26
DEACON THRUSH IN MEETING.
LETTER FROM HANNAH BROWN TO
 SISTER HULDAH.

LETTER FROM HANNAH BROWN TO
 SISTER HULDAH.
 Dear Ruldy-I must tell you bout the way that our new deacon has sot the church folks by the ears-to use that mode Q speakin'. It's jest that orful voice of his'n-But, law I'd best begin and tell my story straight ahead, or else things won't fit in. Last spring we felt that we was blessed, to think that Deacon Thrush was comin' up from Simpkinsville to live in Cedarbrush. He'll be a piller in our church" says father, the first thing. wish he was piller, Huldy, for then he couldn't sing. He bought the Joneses' farm, you know, and moved in last of May. But that first time he come to church-I can't forgit that day. The openin' hymn was skursly read, the choir was just a-risin', when every body turned and looked, sound came so surprisin'. Twas some- thin like the old church bell, twas somethin' like the ocean, twas most like 'Bijah Morrow's bull, accordin' to my notion. It fairly drowned my playin' out; it left the tune behind; never thought that sech voice could come from human kind. Like thunder-claps and factory gear through all our heads twas ringin'. And, Huldy, it was nothin' else than Deacon Thrush a-sln lngin'! Yes, there he sot, with book in hand, as peaceful and as calm as if he thought his dooty lay in murd'r rim that poor psalm. He never see the old folks smiles; he never heerd the giggle that went up from the gallery. I watched our parson wriggle and fdget in the pulpit, while poor fathers head
 was shakin'; but on went Deacon
 Thrush, and seemed real comfort to be
 takin'. And when we stopped he
 couldn't stop, he'd got sech headway on;
 his voice went boomin' up and down,
 and fattin' so forlorn that, though he
 tried to choke it off, it mixed up with
 the text, and made poor Parson Edwards
 skip his words, and then look vexed.
 couldn't hear that sermon, Huldy; my
 thoughts was all astray, a-wonderin' eff
 Deacon Thrush would sing agen that
 day. might have spared my thinkin'
 though, for that misguided man jest
 started of the same old way before the
 rest began. But when the second verse
 was reached, the choir put dowI their
 books; stopped my playin'; back and
 forth we cast desparin' looks the boys
 set up to laugh agen; the parson raised
 his hand and shouted, but the noise was
 sech we couldn't understand; while
 Deacon Thrush was leanin' back, his
 eyelids nearly closin', a.singin' like an
 angel on bed of clouds reposin'. I'll
 have to cut my story short. Next day
 they called a meetin', resolved to keep poor Deacon Thrush sech singh from } repeatin'. They 'p'inted Uncle Job tc go with father and request that Deacon Thrush would kindly leave the singia to the rest. Perhaps you think he took the hint? Then, Huldy, you're mistaken. He listened till they'6
 said their say; then, with the smiles a-breakin', he answered, jest as cheer fully: "Yes, brethering-yes, I know E I have my faults: sometimes git the , tune lettle slow, and sometimes tryin ) to ketch up, I take an extry flight. but ' takin' one verse with the next, that makes things jest come right. Now when you ask me not to sing, why . breth'ring, can't do it; singin's my } dooty and delight, and must jest pur l sue it. Aud while I tread this vale O 3 tears, sinful child of dust, reioicin' il my privilege-rejoice will and must.
 We'll, 'twan't no use, as Uncle Job ani s father said next day. The deacon 2 though pious man, was sot in his owr l way. He's sung in meetin' ever sence- 3 there's not a seat to spare and, oh | sech sinful whisperin' and nudgin' ever, ? where Then when the hymns is givel f out, you'll hear @ gineral "Hush ]! 2 While every body's eyes ard ears i t turned to Deacon Thrush. He's skeere'
 the little children so that most of Fen , keeps cryin'; the very horses in tn t shed won't stand no more 'thout tyin' - he makes the onconverted laugh, whil : godly souls are grievin', and yet he : sech 0 christian man, it's almost pas ! believin'. They're talkin' now of tryin d law, but father he opposes, and so IT y write agen next week to tell you how i t closes.
 e P.S.-Oh, Huldy! sech a curus thing ,; As Deacon Thrush was bringin' hi n apples home, he thought to cheer tn d way by sacred singin'. His team tool D fright and ran away. The neighbor 2 found him lyin' all in heap, and too. ' him home, and now the good man 2 dyin'. And, Huldy, eff it isn't wrong i. I'm glad to think he's goin' where al h the folks know how to sing, and he cal @ get g showin'! ...
 ]. A Printers Dream.