Part 15 (1/2)

She was a little old woman, very plainly dressed in black bombazine that had seen much careful wear; her bonnet was very old-fas.h.i.+oned, and people stared at her tottering up the aisle of the church, evidently bent on securing one of the best seats, for a great man preached that day. The house was filled with splendidly dressed people who had heard of the fame of the preacher, of his learning, his intellect and goodness, and they wondered at the presumption of the poor old woman. She must have been in her dotage, for she picked out the pew of the richest and proudest member of the church and took a seat. The three ladies who were seated there beckoned to the s.e.xton, who bent over the intruder and whispered something, but she was hard of hearing, and smiled a little withered smile, as she said, gently: ”Oh, I'm quite comfortable here, quite comfortable.”

”But you are not wanted here,” said the s.e.xton, pompously; ”there is not room. Come with me, my good woman; I will see that you have a seat.”

”Not room,” said the old woman, looking at her shrunken proportions, and then at the fine ladies. ”Why, I'm not crowded a bit. I rode ten miles to hear the sermon to-day, because--”

But here the s.e.xton took her by the arm, shook her roughly in a polite underhand way, and then she took the hint. Her faded old eyes filled with tears, her chin quivered; but she rose meekly and left the pew. Turning quietly to the ladies, who were spreading their rich dresses over the s.p.a.ce she left vacant, she said gently: ”I hope, my dears, there'll be room in heaven for us all.” Then she followed the pompous s.e.xton to the rear of the church where, in the last pew, she was seated between a threadbare girl and a shabby old man.

”She must be crazy,” said one of the ladies in the pew which she had first occupied. ”What can an ignorant old woman like her want to hear Dr. ---- preach for? She would not be able to understand a word he said.”

”Those people are so persistent! The idea of her forcing herself into our pew! Isn't that voluntary lovely? There's Dr. ---- coming out of the vestry. Is he not grand?”

”Splendid! What a stately man! You know he has promised to dine with us while he is here.”

He was a commanding looking man, and as the organ voluntary stopped, and he looked over the great crowd of wors.h.i.+pers gathered in the vast church, he seemed to scan every face. His hand was on the Bible when suddenly he leaned over the reading desk and beckoned to the s.e.xton, who obsequiously mounted the steps to receive a mysterious message. And then the three ladies in the grand pew were electrified to see him take his way the whole length of the church to return with the old woman, when he placed her in the front pew of all, its other occupants making willing room for her. The great preacher looked at her with a smile of recognition, and then the services proceeded, and he preached a sermon that struck fire from every heart.

”Who was she?” asked the ladies who could not make room for her, as they pa.s.sed the s.e.xton at the door.

”The preacher's mother,” was the reply.

THE RETORT DIS-COURTEOUS.

BY JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY.

Mr. Michael McGlynn, of Dublin town, And Dinny O'Doyle, of Kildare, Through the streets of the city, went up and down, A remarkably guileless pair.

Said Michael to Dinny: ”Me darlin' bhoy, Since the roise o' the mornin' sun, Niver a dhrop or a boite have Oi, Oi think I could ate a bun.”

Said Dinny to Michael: ”Av coorse: av coorse!

To ate is the woise man's part; Oi have a sinsation loike that mesilf, Oi think Oi could touch a tart.”

So the kindred souls of this guileless pair, An eating house speedily found, And before them a jar on the table sat, Full of horseradish, freshly ground.

With a tablespoon, Mr. Michael McGlynn Took all that his mouth would hold, Then gasped for breath, while his head turned hot And his spine turned icy cold.

The tears on his cheeks came rolling down, But he had no breath to swear, So he simply clutched at the tablecloth, And tore at his red, red hair.

Amazed and surprised, Mr. Dinny O'Doyle Said: ”Michael, me darlin' bhoy, Phwat's troublin' yer sowl? Phwat's wrong wid ye now?

Phwat's the raison ye've tears in yer oi?”

”Oh, nothin,” said Michael; ”my grandfather doid Some twenty-foive years ago, Oi chanced to remember the fine owld man, An' Oi couldn't help croiyin', ye know.

”But, Dinny O'Doyle, doant mind it at all; How wake an' how choildish Oi same,”

Then he pa.s.sed the horseradish and spoon and all; ”Have some of this nice oice crame!”

So Dinny dipped into the treacherous jar, And the tears quickly sprang to his eyes, While Michael McGlynn, who had got back his breath, Affected a strange surprise.

”Phy, Dinny, me bhoy, ye're croiyin' yersilf,”

He said with a chuckle and grin; ”Phwat's troublin' _yer_ sowl? Phwat's wrong wid _ye_ now?

Is it wapin' ye are for a sin?”