ich he used to touch or correct
any boy or girl who whispered in meeting, who fell asleep, or who
misbehaved. Little Ben must have looked from the family pew in awe at
the tithingman. The old-time ministers pictured the Lord himself as
being a kind of a tithingman, sitting up in heaven and watching out for
the unwary. Good Josiah Franklin governed the conduct of the children
in his own pew. You may be sure that none of them whispered there or
fell asleep or misbehaved.

The tithingman, who was a church constable, was annually elected to keep
peace and order in the church. In England he collected tithes, or a
tenth part of the parish income, which the people were supposed, after
the Mosaic command, to offer to the church. He sometimes wore a peculiar
dress; he was usually a very solemn-looking man, the good man of whom
all the children, and some of the old women, stood in terror.

A crafty man was the tithingman in the pursuit of his duties. He was on
the watch all the time, and, as suspicion breeds suspicion, so the
children were on the watch for him. The sermons were long, the hourglass
was sometimes twice turned during the service, and the children often
kept themselves awake by looking out for the tithingman, who was
watching out for them. This was hardly the modern idea of heart culture
and spiritual development, but the old Puritan churches made strong men
who faced their age with iron purposes.

We said that the tithingman was sometimes a terror to old women. Why was
he so? It was sweet for certain good old people to sleep in church, and
his duties extended to all sleepers, young and old. But he did not smite
the good old ladies with a stick. In some churches, possibly in this
one, he carefully tickled their noses with a feather. This led to a
gentle awakening, very charitable and kindly.

It is a warm summer day. Josiah Franklin's pew is crowded, and little
Ben has gone to the gallery to sit among the boys. Uncle Ben, the poet,
is there, for he sees that the family pew is full.

How can little Ben help whispering now, when the venerable poet is by
his side and will not harshly reprove him, and when so many little
things are happening that tempt him to share his thoughts with his
amiable godfather?

But he restrained himself long and well.

In her high-backed pew, provided with the luxury of the cushion, sat
fine old Lady Wiggleworth, all in silks, satins, and plumes. Little Ben,
looking over the gallery r