re is nothing in this world
that would break up the old orthodox churches as quick as some specific
for dyspepsia--some sure cure.

Then we went to church, and the minister was up in a pulpit about
twenty feet high, with a little sounding-board over him, and he
commenced with Firstly and went on to about twenty-thirdly, and then
around by way of application, and then divided it off again once or
twice, and after having put in about two hours, he got to Revelations.
We were not allowed to have any fire, even if it was in the winter. It
was thought to be outrageous to be comfortable while you are thanking
the Lord, and the first church that ever had a stove put in it in New
England was broken up on that account. Then we went a-nooning, and
then came the catechism, the chief end of man. We went through that;
and then this same sermon was preached, commencing at the other end,
and going back. After that was over we started for home, solemn and
sad--"not a soldier discharged his farewell shot;" not a word was
said--and when we got home, if we had been good boys, they would take
us up to the graveyard to cheer us up a little.

It did cheer me! When I looked at those tombs the comforting
reflection came to my mind that this kind of thing couldn't last
always. Then we had some certain books that we read just by way of
cheerfulness. There was Milner's "History of the Wilderness," Baxter's
"Call to the Unconverted," and Jenkins' "On the Atonement." I used to
read Jenkins' "On the Atonement;" and I have often thought the
atonement would have to be very broad in its provisions to cover the
case of a man who would write a book like that for a boy to read.
Well, you know, the Sunday had to go at last; and the moment the sun
went down Sunday night we were free. About 4 or 5 o'clock we would go
to see how the sun was coming out. Sometimes it seemed to me that it
was just stopping from pure cussedness; but finally it had to go down,
and when the last rim of light sank below the horizon, out would come
our traps, and we would give three cheers for liberty once more. In
those times it was thought wrong for a child to laugh on Sunday. Think
of that! A little child--a little boy--could go out in the garden, and
there would be a tree laden with blossoms, and this little fellow would
lean up against the tree, and there would be a bird singing and
swinging, and thinking about four little speckled eggs, warmed by the
breast of i