New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1891-05-27

to how many persons death should
be welcomed with flowers You
know when Beecher died he request
ed that no gloom be thrown on the
event by sable trappings, but that
flowers in profusion should mark his
translation to a better land.'' a.
"But did you find your waiting
couple that night, Mr.. Brushing
ham,"
".0h, yes. Wedding parties never
"This isn't a funny story" said
the Baptist minister, "but it is
a true one. Before I came to
Chicago | was preaching at Lin
coin. That Was years ago, and
| the town was not so we'll sup
piled with churches as it is now. A
Presbyterian minister was holding
revival service in his church, and his
audiences were so large he could not
accommodate them. He asked the
permission of myself and my trustees
to use our church, which was much
larger, and everybody was deli GIFTED
with the evident good he was doing.
| One morning he came to me and said
he wanted to preach three sermons
on baptism, but felt embarrassed,
as he was in the house of denomin-
alton from which he radically differ
ed on that subject. I told him to go
ahead his own way just as if he were
at home. Give them immersion,
sprinkling or anything that would
save them. So at it he went. Now,
right under the platform on which
my pulp stood was a great pool of
water in which our baptisms took
place. No one ever thought of the
place being insecure, but my Presby-
terrain friend got a number of breth-
rem on the stand with him that night,
and among them was one very tat
mana regular mountain of flesh.
The sermon went forward, and the
preacher became excited as I never
had seen him before. Baptism was
his strong point, and he laid him
self out for a great effort. He had
perhaps reached his loftiest flight
in the denunciation of immersion
as the "one baptism,' and announced
with great vigor that he had never
Immersed convert and he never
would; that he never had been i'm
mersed and nothing could induce him
to be: and that he would sweep the
foolish Journalism from the face of the
earth!
'Just at this point the fat man,
too cramped in common chair to en-
10y such welcome and powerful
doctrine, rose, and started
across behind the preacher.
1t was too much for the platform
floor. At the very height of the
minister's impassioned period down
went pulpit, pastor and guard of
honor with a crash and a splash into
the ample depths of the pool"
"Did it alter his views on bap-
tism?'7 90
."No; but he said Presbyterian
preaching on a Baptist platform was
a mighty insecure business, and he
soon went back to his own house of
Worship
''Simply because a service is con-
Quoted in a church some simple
minds fancy a feeling of reverence
should surround it all times.
confess such sentiment myself. But
now and then a church choir quar-
rels just as violently as though they
were engaged for Fourth of July dis
plays" This from the Congregation
al minister One time I had an ex-
cellent lot of musicians. but the bas-
so and the organist had a quarrel
about some trivial matter, and the
organist, a lady who still lives in
Chicago, and who is still destitute in
the matter OF husband, was desper-
ately angry. She punished the man
with the heavy voice by refusing to
accompany him in duo which he
and the tutor were singing. The
first l knew they had sung their lines
through to a place where the tenor
warbled, 'While the pillows near me
ROLL and the bass took mp the strain,
| while the tempest still is nigh The
organ went through with the tenor
all right, but was silent as the
grave when the bass was thun-
dering in tempest tones through his
part. But he was game and
never f1inched, but sang through
without the accompaniment us
though nothing had happened. How
ever, he had his revenge. The clos
ing hymn was aquartet in which each
of the four parts carried measure iu
solo. The organist was herself the
alto, and an unusually good one
When they came to the part to be
sung in this way the soprano warbled
her lines sWeetly, the tenor sang the
next measure with charming effect,
and then it w.ls the turn of the bass.
But the organist-alto, still feeding
her spite, didn't touch key, andthe
basso himself, anticipating this very
thing, looked at his ~anthem-book
with all interest, but did not open his
lips. sOne-two-three-tour,' every
singer counted the time through che
absolute. silence, and the alto, con-
fused, took up her line and her music,
&c.