The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-07-14

needs no cushion and back for the log,
but he wants an easy chair and has
sock at church.
! CHURCHES OF PENANCE.
1t won't do any harm to humOr the
man in the pew little in this matter of
personal comfort. The day of physical
penance has gone by. We no longer
wear the hair shirt. Since the inven-
ton of tight boots it has become feeble
and useless superiluity. Men no longer
make pilgrimages to holy places in
their bare feet. If they walk quarter
of mile to church they think they
ought to go to Heaven for it. The only
| pilgrims of to-day are tramps. But
now and then, and here and there, we
still build churches like barns, only
more so. We still perch the worshipers
in benches so high that nobody can
reach the floor with their feet when they
sit down.
1t may be that the severe pew of the
| Queen Ann style is conducive to vital
piety Certainly it will have to be con-
ducive to some great good to atone for
the measureless evil it hath wrought in
the world. Don't be afraid of making
| the church too comfortable lest it may
| look much like theater. The Bible
will be none the less the Bible even
though it be bound in half-tuIkey like
Shakespeare.
THE PEW AS SEEN FROM THE PULPIT.
AS you preach the word, my dear
young brother, cast your eyes around
upon the congregation and you will OBJ
serve these people, as follows, to wit,
namely, viz:
/. The SLEEPER.-He will be there.
Peradventure he leaneath his chin upon
cane, so that when the moment of
deep and profound slumber cometh
upon him, his chin slippeth off and with
the bang of his head upon the pew in
front of him he is awaked Howbeit
the bang upon his wife's head no man
can hear. Or, the slumberer may sit
bolt upright and nod in time to his deep
and regular breathing. Only when YOU
cast your eyes upon him, the watchful
wife of his bosom stabs him with her
elbow, and he glareth upon the congre-
cation as who should say: ''He that
sayeth slept the same Is liar and a
villain and a horse-thief" Or, if he be
so that he leaneth his head back until
the lid thereof falleth down between his
shoulders, and he playeth fantastic
tunes with his nose, insomuch that the
boys in the gallery make merry over the
same, then is it hazardous to awaken
this slumberer right suddenly, because
he dreameth of divers things and say
eth to the tithing man who shaketh him
up, Hey? hi! ha! yes, yes, all right!
I'm up" And thus is the congregation
much scandalized. But if he foldeth
his handkerchief over the back of the
pew in front and boweth his head de-
voutly upon the same, even in that
moment when the text is pronounced,
then will that sleeper trouble no one,
but will slumber sweetly on until the
time of the benediction; and he will
awaken refreshed and smiling, and he
will eXtol the sermon and magnify the
preacher He is the old-timer from
Sleepy Hollow
III. The LoUNGER.-He falls into the
pew and slides easily into the most
comfortable corner. He shakes himself
down into comfortable attitude. His
legs extend under the pew in front and
fuse angles. He crooks his plant elbow
into the arm of the pew, and drops the
side of his face into the fearful hollow
of his hand, by means of which he
pushes his cheek up into his eye. His
shoulders are nearly on a level with his
head. Every time you look at him you
expect to see him slide out of sight.
And although you are good man,
sometimes you wish he would, and
never come up again.
Ill. The FIDGET.-Whether you look
for him or not you know where he is.
He pushes the hassock away with a
long, resonant groan of its own. Then
he sits bolt upright, hooks his shoulder
blades over the back of the pew and
hangs on. He is going to sit still this
Sunday if it kills him. But the pew is
too high, so he settles down little.
Then he puts hymn-book between his
back and the pew. Then he leans for
ward and lets it fall with a crash. Then
he folds his arms; he half turns and
lays one arm along the back of the pew
Suddenly he slides down and braces both
knees against the back of the pew
in front. All, that's comfort. 1t lasts
ninety seconds, when he abruptly
straightens up, elevates both arms and
hooks his elbows over the back of his
pew. That isn't what he wants; his
legs are tired; he reaches for the has
sock with both feet, upsets it, and in a
frantic effort to stay it, kicks it against
the pew. Covered with burning en-
barassment he pulls out his watch twice
or thrice without once looking at it.
He folds his arms across his breast,
then he crosses them behind his back;
he.thrusts his hands into his pockets, he
drops Bible on the floor and puts his
feet into his hat, and at times you look
to see him go all to pieces, but he
doesn't. He stays together and comes
back next Sunday, every limb and joint
of him.
". The WATCHER.-His neck is
fitted on globe socket and turns clear
around. He sees everything that goes
on. The man who comes in late does
not escape him, and it is vain for the
tenor to think he got that little note to
the alto conveyed between the leaves of
the hymn-book unobserved. The
watcher saw it. He sees the hole in
the quarter that Elder Skinner dropped
in the plate. He sees that Deacon
Slowboy has on but one cuff. If the
door swings he looks around; if the
window nnoUas pOica1acS1.y bo lool.e 49,