The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-10-06
OUR DRAGONS.
BY MAX.


 Three quarters of century ago it had half dozen and 8 congregation to match. But the ancient sanctuary seems to have shrunk in size by neg lect, it's seats are sparsely filled on Sundays, and there is no one but the singers in the great galleries that stretch on three sides ot the edifice. The only thing that has grown of late years is the thickly settled graveyard in which the church stands, with it's funny little pepper-box spire looking down upon three generations of sleepers. They must have been more active men and women than their suc- cessors, who are simply content to let things go on as they are and never murmur except when some ambitious outsider attempts to push things ahead.
 Last Sunday, our minister, who is feeble soul with scarce wish beyond the prompt collection of his salary, made fluttering effort to be eloquent on the subject of the heathen, and in-
 vited his congregation to be liberal
 toward foreign missions. When the
 baskets were passed around 1t was evident that his appeal had taken effect, for instead of the usual penny
 collection there was quite sprinkling
 of five cent pieces. One of the dea-
 cons had seemed to be somewhat flus-
 tered at the time. When the benedic-
 tion had been pronounced he was ob-
 served to be busily engaged in fum-
 bling in his pockets, and the minister
 approached and inquired gently as to what was the trouble. "Dominie,"
 said the good man, q was sure had
 put penny in my pocket before I started from home to put in the col lection box for foreign missions, but cannot find it. No matter, I will
 bring it tonight" The face of the parson, who fancied he had preached a
 sermon calculated to melt the stoutest heart and open the strongly locked purse, was study for the ungodly.
 This is the practical picture of one
 of our deacons, who is worth probably $50,000 and is the richest man in the , congregation. He is very pious, and
 the prayer which he makes on public
 occasions, and which he never varies
 in any particular, is most edifying in its petitions that his neighbors should be made as good as he. The people, however, seem to respect him more for his money than his piety. His great est care appears to be that there shall be no reckless extravagance in the , church, and that the minister shall not
 get his ideas raised in respect to sal- ary above the usual five hundred dol lars. As fnancier he is model to 3 even Wall street sinners. The church money that comes into his hands is , always expended, and, singularly l enough, his bills are always little :. more than the receipts. From this f trifiing circumstance the outside sim < ners argue that he never pays any
 money from his own pocket into the ecclesiastical treasury, but literally and truly finds profit in his religion. But 1t is as singer that the deacon
 shines most brightly in the sanctuary. He has very little voice and less ear,
 but he makes the most of both. With , his head thrown back and the book held at & proper angle, he fixes his f eyes on the notes, keeps time with his
 chin, and manages to strike at least one Q note in three in part which by cour- 2 tesy is supposed to be bass. It is the height of his ambition to drown the
 voice of the leading soprano, @ maiden , lady of uncertain age, unusual stature,
 and with mouth which is the twin
 of that of Dr. Talmage. Between the = two our music is-well, there is noth- ]; ing like it even in the great metropo-
 lis, for the rest of the choir go wildly
 careering among the notes with little
 regard tor time or melody. But the
 deacon site down when the hymn is
 ended, strokes his whiskers compla- '' gently, and looks around as if to say,
 "I would like to see anybody beat
 that"
 Q Meantime his colleague, a youthful
 farmer whose pantaloons never reach
 to the ankle, and whose boots are never x blacked, sits as an attendant angel at his side and does nothing except pass
 the plate for the pennies. Occasionally
 they put their wise heads together
 after service and wonder why the
 church does not grow. In the shadow
 of dead past 1t is slowly dying, and h yet there is something attractive to 8 the stranger in the old-fashioned as- 8 pect of the sanctuary and its officials 6 with whom everything is at least fifty years behind the present age. The Q deacons will never change. They do not see any necessity for it. Whenever I proposition is made to change mat Il ters for the better the deacons smile o with calm sense of superiority, and 2 say: "We have never been accustomed d to do that here--our people are diff @ ferent." And argument has about as . much effect as summer shower upon d the peak of Teneriffe. It is pleasant 8 to look m fc this sup0rior wisdom-