ir baggage, and keeping
the cinders out of their eyes, and keeping the children's heads out of
the window, and keeping their fingers from being jammed, to look out for
their immortal souls. And the men are too much absorbed in the object of
their trip to listen to gospel truths. They are thinking about whether
they will be able to get a room at the hotel, or whether they will have
to sleep on a cot.

Nobody can sing gospel songs on a car, with their throats full of
cinders, and their eyes full of dust, and the chances are if anybody
should strike up, "A charge to keep I have," some pious sinner who was
trying to take a nap in the corner of the gospel car would say:

"O, go and hire a hall!"

It would be necessary to make an extra charge of half a dollar to those
who occupied the gospel car, the same as is charged on the parlor car,
and you wouldn't get two persons on an average train full that would put
up a nickel.

Why, we know a Wisconsin Christian, worth a million dollars, who, when
he comes up from Chicago to the place where he lives, hangs up his
overcoat in the parlor car, and then goes into the forward car and rides
till the whistle blows for his town, when he goes in and gets his coat
and never says thirty-five cents to the conductor, or ten cents to the
porter. Do you think a gospel car would catch him for half a dollar? He
would see you in Hades first.

The best way is to take a little eighteen carat religion along into the
smoking car, or any other car you may happen to be in.

A man--as we understand religion from those who have had it--does not
have to howl to the accompaniment of an asthmatic organ, pumped by a
female with a cinder in her eye and smut on her nose, in order to enjoy
religion, and he does not have to be in the exclusive company of other
pious people to get the worth of his money. There is a great deal of
religion in sitting in a smoking car, smoking dog-leg tobacco in
a briar-wood pipe, and seeing happy faces in the smoke that curls
up--faces of those you have made happy by kind words, good deeds, or
half a dollar put where it will drive away hunger, instead of paying it
out for a reserved seat in a gospel car. Take the half dollar you would
pay for a seat in a gospel car and go into the smoker, and find some
poor emigrant that is going west to grow up with the country, after
having been beaten out of his money at Castle Garden, and give it to
him, and see if the look of thankfulness