hurch, and I had my attention divided
between my text and the annoying insect, which flew about like an
illustration I could not catch. A dull Pew is often responsible for a dull
Pulpit. Do not put your head down on the back of the seat in front,
pretending you are very much affected with the sermon, for we all know you
are napping."

The Pew: "If you want me to be alert, give me something fresh and
startling. Your sermons all sound alike. It don't make any difference where
you throw the net, you never fish up anything but moss-bunkers. You are
always talking about stale things. Why don't you give us a touch, of
learned discussion, such as the people hear every Sunday in the church of
Reverend Doctor Heavyasbricks, when, with one eye on heaven and the other
on the old man in the gallery, he speaks of the Tridentine theory of
original sin, and Patristic Soteriology, Mediaeval Trinitarianism, and
Antiochian Anthropology? Why do you not give us some uncommon words, and
instead of 'looking back upon your subject,' sometimes 'recapitulate,' and
instead of talking about a man's 'peculiarities,' mention his
'idiot-sin-crasies,' and describe the hair as the capillary adornment; and
instead of speaking of a thing as tied together, say it was 'inosculated.'"

The Pulpit: "You keep me so poor I cannot buy the books necessary to keep
me fresh. After the babies are clothed, and the table is provided for, and
the wardrobe supplied, my purse is empty, and you know the best carpenter
cannot make good shingles without tools. Better pay up your back salary
instead of sitting there howling at me. You eased your conscience by
subscribing for the support of the gospel, but the Lord makes no record of
what a man subscribes; he waits to see whether he pays. The poor widow with
the two mites is applauded in Scripture because she paid cash down. I have
always noticed that you Pews make a big noise about Pulpit deficiencies,
just in proportion to the little you do. The fifty cents you pay is only
premium on your policy of five dollars' worth of grumbling. O critical Pew!
you had better scour the brass number on your own door before you begin to
polish the silver knob on mine."

The Pew: "I think it is time for you to go away. I am glad that conference
is coming. I shall see the bishop, and have you removed to some other part
of the Lord's vineyard. You are too plain a Pulpit for such an elegant
Pew. Just look at your big hands and feet. We want