The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-09-15
A SERMON UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
Experience of a Preacher i'll Washington
Territory Town.

Experience of a Preacher i'll a Washington
Territory Town.
Letter in Portland Ore News.
Port Gamble has distinctive features of its
own The town site, hotel, store and mill
are owned by the mill company, and no
business can be opened without their con-
sent The one hall is used for school house,
church and theater. Nearly all companies
that play the circuit take in Port Gamble.
The company's hotel is run by a queer ge-
MUS known as Jim burly, big Missou-
rian OF six feet two, 235 pounds and q
squeaky, thin. falsetto voice He is far
famed for good nature, wit and eccentricity;
is everybody's friend among the boys, whom
he etfectually leads by the noses. A Seattle
minister once had a notice posted about
town that divine service would be held
on certain Sunday There are few wo-
men soul IN climbed inG pli the am% %os
hill to be saved. The minister waited three
quarters of an hour, then sadly wendell his
way to the hotel. The Office, bar and billiard
room were crowded with mill hands and log
gers, rough in dress and speech, all smoking.
swearing, drinking, etc. Just inside the door
sat Jim at poker game. To him the minis
ter complained that no one had come to hear
him preach. Jim was in for fair play at
once. He said to the sad-faced divine
"All right, stranger; jest you go back up
hill and I'll make these fellers come up an
give We show. Jest you shiny right along
an don't fret, an I'll tote EN- up thar quick
erin creased lightnin'." His reverence re-
tired and Jim called out Say, all you fell
lers hold up. There's gospel sharp up to
the meetin' house says faint fair we amt
give him no show. low faint neither, bein's
he's served notice or us two weeks, an come
on from Clarntown (Seatte) cordin' to con-
tract Come on now, all you buffers. an
tote yerselves up thar. Put up them dice,
you fellers; bars Shet till after meetin house.
Come on, Joe Hawks; you're the worst old
sinner in this camp. You need mendin'
morne any of us, | reckon. Stop them bill
lizards yander. Ought to be ashamed O. YER
selves, payin when TIERS q preacher in
town. March out O here Git! Lock the
door, Bill, an you see you come right on
up, too. Take off that apurn first; and none
o your derned cuttin up in meetn', or YOU
won't sling no more drinks over my bar,
tell yen
He drove every man out and before him
like flock OF sheep up the hill to ''meeti
house" where all Of them had been ito sec
the show" the night before When he ar
rived he headed the gang of lOggers and
roughs, and walked up to the minister
Here we be, mister. Hats of, felcrs Dan.
Higgins can't you set down. or have We got
bile? Set down, | tell vel Now, mister
you lei go at EN-. They're a lot of merry
critters, anyhow, and We kin just eu for the
whole DoSSy."
And not a face wore a smile phe good man
read chapter a said prayer, but couldn't
sing He timidly asked some OF the brethren
to lead hymn. None OF the brethren re-
sponded but all looked at Jim. He was
equal to the occasion. Frank Harris you
kin sing. Shell out some O. them songs o
yourn.' Frank Harris said he only knew
Nancy Lee, and "Bango Was His Name"
"Well, them songs amt no good fer meet
in house; better for loggin' camp, / reckon.
Tom Kerrish, l low you know more about
hymns, bein's most Scotch fellers is church
folks. Sing out now, ana all you du ffers as
kin iine into the chorus, and Jim began
beating time vigorously. Tom Kerrlsh
hemmed and coughed to clear his throat, and
started in with "Auld Lang Syne" Jim
nodded to the "fellers" here and there
until the entire crowd, one by one, lined
into the chorus Justify When the last
verse was reached everybody was singing,
and al a sign from jim Tom started in again,
and they sung the whole song through
twice, beating time with their boots and
keeping perfectly decorous. At the close
the rrepressible Jim spoke out: NOW give
1t to 'em, mister, red-hot, but cut it short
Most of em has to git back to the woods in
the mornin' an wants to finish Their games
this evenin'." The minister did give it to
EN-" and the men listened with respectful
attention. When through the spokesman
again of1iciated. Cant none O. you sam
yors sing no more" Well | low We kin put
up, if We can't sing, Give us yer tile, mis-
ter" and taking the divine'S hat he pro-
ceeded to levy contributions IRON each man.
Come down, now, all you buffers, man
can't come from Camtown for nothin' to
save yer onery souls. Dan Higgins you old
sinner, YOU won the last pot today; sling in
that flyer, lively; Tom kerrish, you kin git
off with four bits. Tibet was a right good
hymn o your'n. Bill, low you don't git
off less'n two an half, beins We git more
free drinks n any Teller here" and SO on all
around, until every man had put up" and
the hat was full. Putting $40 gold piece
ON top he handed the tile pack, and said:
well, mister, we're obleeged l reckon the
boys has done the square thing l low you
don't take in no such pot as this every day;
meetins ont fellers. Good day mister" and
the entire crowd, without further ceremony.
went back to cards, billiards and drinks as
though nothing had happened. This is not
a Western yarn, but an DER true tale 1t
really happened not three months ago and
Jim is still alive, as fat in flesh, thin liz
voice as then.