A YANKEE SERMON.

Dunstan Times, Issue 628, 1 May 1874, Page 3

A YANKEE SERMON.

The following, taken from a recent English journal, is a quaint specimen of American pulpit oratory ;—“ Beloved Blethering; The text which 1 have chosen is in the lids of tiiis book, between the first chapter of Generations and the last chanter of Involutions, and when you you will find these words—“ And they shall gnaw a file and lice unto the mountains of Hepzidam, whore the lion vnareth, and the wangdoodle mourneth for her first-born. Blethering, with the assistance of grace, I'll just cut in for a little religion. Beloved brethering ! I am an unlarned hard-shell preacher, cf whom you’ve no doubt heeid afore, and I now appeals 'ere to expound the word and pint out the narrow way which leads from this vain world to the streets of Jerusalem. Now, my brethering, as I’ve told you afore, I knows nothing about grammer talk or -eollidge edification ; but I am a plain, unlarn’d, hard-shell preacher of the word what’s been lore-ordained and called to prepare a perverse generation for the days of wrath ! And they shall gnaw a tile, and shall flee unto (ho mountains of Hepzidam, whore the lion roareth and the wangdoodle mourneth tor liet first born. My beloved brethering, the text saj s, “ They shall gnaw a tile !” It does not say they may,” but they “ shall.” Now there air more sorts of tile,my brethering. There’s the hand saw lile and the rat-tailed file, the old file and the prn-lile, and the tile hossiter ; lint the kind spoken of here aint none ot that sort neither; but its a kind of figger o’speech, and means going in ah mo and getting ukkered. “ Eoi they shall gnaw n lile ami flee unto the mountain of Hepzidam, where ihe lion roareth and the wangdoodle nvmrnetii for her first-born.” And now there be some here with fine clothes on their backs, jewels in their besoms, and lard in their air, which goes it while they’re young; and there be others there which, as long as their constitooslmns and sodas and brandees last, goes It thick. And there be sisters here, which as soon as they gets sixteen years of age, cuts tlmir tiller ropes, and goes in with a rush. But, beloved brethering, mind you don’t find, at the last rush, that your hand’s plavcdout, and that you’re got in a ukkurd fix. “ Oh, they shall gnaw a file and flee unto the -ilnnintiiiim of Jtepzidam, where the lion roareth and the wangdoodle mourneth for her first-born" But, my brethering, we may bo likened to a man that has to cross a river, and the ferry-boat was gone ; so he tucked up his breeches and waded through. Oh, my brethering, the hard shell is the light up and down religion. For the 1 aid shell may be likened to a possum in a cinnamon tree ; for the thunders may mar, and the earth may quake, and the tempest may howl ; but the possum clings there still. You may shake cue foot loose, but the othei’s there ; you may shake another loose, but he’s there ; you shat e all his feet loose, but lie's there, for he lays his tail round the limb, and clings on for ever and ever. And aye, “They shall gnaw a file and flee unto the mountains of Hepzidam, where the lion roareth [and the wangdoodle mourneth for her first-born.” Let us sing a ui mm, my brethering.