American essays -- 19th century; Short stories, American
That preacher, in my opinion (and I ached to tell him so), did more
harm in that hour and a half than he can remedy in a life-time. This may
seem a bold assertion. _I_ think not. One hundred and fifty little
children to carry away with them from that church (not only for that
afternoon, but for a long life of Sundays), a disgust of that blessed
day, and what _should_ be its sweet and holy services. But what is the
use of talking? Every great and good cause is sure to be knocked in the
head by some blunderbuss. Why didn’t that man tell those children some
_short_, simple story that the youngest child there could understand,
appreciate, and be interested in? Why didn’t he open wide the
church-doors before their attention and interest flagged? Why so
enamored of the sound of his own voice, as to keep those steaming,
par-boiled little victims in that sacerdotal vapor-bath, after he had
said all he could think of to them, to address their teachers, who, if
necessary, should have had a meeting by themselves for that infliction?
And why--(I ask all of you who have not forgotten how _your_ restless
limbs ached when _you_ were children)--must _another_ minister get up
after that, and torture common-sense, and his fainting, frying auditors,
by another aimless, inflated, meaningless, and last-drop-in-the-bucket,
but (thanks to a kind Providence), _final_ address? And why didn’t
somebody seize the sexton of that church, who had compelled a hundred
and fifty children to breathe the foul air which the morning worshipers
had bequeathed, and which he was too lazy to let out the windows--why
didn’t somebody, I say, seize that sexton, and place him in an exhausted
receiver, long enough to give him some _faint_ notion of what he made
those par-boiled children suffer in that “protracted meeting?”
“COME ON, MACDUFF.”
A correspondent wishes us to “oblige a lady,” by publishing a
communication containing strictures on Fanny Fern. But, why should
we “oblige a lady” whom we do not know, and at the same time
disoblige a lady whom all the world knows?--_New York Evening
Mirror._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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