The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-06-20
THE BOYS SUNDAY.

ties were stiff and irksome, yet, when
faithfully performed, brought something OF
| balm to the conscience. 1t was but nom
| inally season Of rest. True, regular farm
work was strictly foregone, but the chores.
the burden of which fell largely upon his
small shoulders, could not be neglected.
| He had to rise just early and trudge
| just as far across the pasture in search
| of the COWS as on week days. Moreover,
| the sacredness of the day as interpreted
by his pious parents forbade his indul-
| gence in levltous whistling and loud call
| ings. such as lightened the labor at other
| times. Secular songs were iniquitous and
not TO be thought of. and, in order to re-
| frain from downright sin. on particularly
bright Sunday mornings he was sometimes
compelled to compromise with the spirit Of
the day and his own exuberance by hum
ming the tune of Yankee Doodle" while
mentally inserting the words of the Dox-
ology.
He was fncensed by the unusual ebandon
with which the birds sang on Sunday and,
while morally shocked at their sinfulness,
mentally envied them their liberty. 1t was
not naughty, he thought. to throw stones
at them under such a double provocation.
But he did not dare so far out of his way
in their pursuit, for he could never dismiss
from mind tragic Sabbath-school- paper
tale of a little boy whc once followed a
strange bird into a dark forest with un-
canny and distressing results. 1t was a
very peculiar bird, with a good deal Of
crimson in it's plumage, and it led the
thoughtless boy on and on, until he found
himself alone in the darkness with ter
rible thunderstorm raging. Then he caught
the bird, and-horror of DEMONSTRATORS
its flaming breast in letters of black was
written the word Sin The storm and
the darkness were frightful enough but
the supernatural inscription the bird bore
ah, it was blood-curdling! The story inn
pressed its due lesson upon our boy: to be-
ware of strange birds. especially red ones.
After chores and breakfast were done.
hasty preparations were made for Sunday
school. The Sunday clothes were brought
forth and the bare and briar-scarred feet
bathed and shackled in shoes. All, unhappy
necessity Of incasing this summers feet in
last winters shoes-it was like imprisoning
a rosebud in block of ice. A well-dressed
boy is always a distressed boy. When he
donned his Sunday suit he put off the
happy good humor in which nature had
swathed him, and became as degenerate as
Adam after the adoption of fig-leaf apparel.
In his old clothes his peccadillos were apt
to be of a thoughtless and harmless char
acter, but when he was dressed up" he
was inclined to deliberate transgression.
On the way to Sunday school he dangled his
feet over the lend gate" of the spring
wagon and made monstrous faces at the
boy behind. When the classroom was
reached he wrggled and winked and
pinched his mates and chewed sassafras
root, making believe it was tobacco-in
short, INDUCED in manifold forms of orig
inal sin" In this way he gained the rep
utation of being very bad boy, when real
ly it was his ill-fitting clothes that were
bad.
He always remained for church because
he had to, and there the diversive alterna-
tive of mischief failed him and he
compelled to be content with empty sleep
or vain, speculation. But his elastic imag-
nation was an untold comfort and the
curious ideas and vaporous views of things
which wandered through his mind, as the
minister crept from firstly" down to last
ly," and again" and ''in conclusion" were
wonderful to relate. He wondered why the
deacon in the pew in front had hair,
why his head was shiny, how it felt to
be bald, if he himself would ever be bald,
and why little boys could not be bald with
out waiting till they grew up. He specu-
lated as to how the preacher would look
with wings when he became an angel and
as to whether angels scared like buzzards
or Topped their wings like chickens or
buzzed like flies. He wished he had his
wings on now, and he knew what he would
do pretty quick. He would not stay there
very long. Wouldn't it make a stir, though,
If he should suddenly mount to the ceiling
with glad flutter and go sailing out
he
fields! How high he would soar and to
what mighty distances he would take his
flight! With such absurd fancies as these
he passed the tedious hours. Little enough
OF the minister's learned discourse pene-
trated his ears and less found its way to
his comprehension. When the final prayer
was spoken and the benediction was pro-
nOunced, the boy, in common with many
Of his elders breathed a sigh of relief
Home and dinner lay before him, and al
though the Sunday meal was likely to be
frugal, its crystal water and cold beans
comprised a refreshing oasis in the religious
desert round about him. Even a temporary
shifting of the wind from spiritual to
a physical quarter was comforting.
After dinner the shoes slipped off by
magic and then away the truant feet went
scurrying across Inc meadow with a speed
that TOOK his Dreath. sunday afternoon
with laziness lettering at his side unre-
buked with the grass just soft enough to
Toll upon. with the air full of shimmering
dreams and industry fast asleep for the
day! Sunday afternoon-with bare feet,
with straw hat, with the thinnest and sim
plest of garments, with youth, with hope
with a world so full OF sunshine that its
warmth overlooked into the shadiest hooks
what rare possibilities for pleasure 1t pos
sessed! Down where the brook kept run
ming night and day was the favorite tryst-
ing place for idleness and himself. 1t was
out of view from the house and haunted
by no specter from the world of week days
or the purgatory of Sunday morning. He
and the dragon flies and water spiders
alone knew the secret of it's placid charms.
1t was such a tiny stream that ii often
became so nearly lost in the marshes OF
calamus that he had to stoop to find it, and
he could almost stop it's current with his
heel. Miniature water wheels were con-
structed along its course, and fairy boats
which were literal ''barks' were launched
upon it's breast. He would recline on it's
bank his feet burrowirg deep into the soft
mud and toss numberless chipS into the