VARNISH ON THE CHURCH PEWS.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2235, 1 June 1881, Page 4

VARNISH ON THE CHURCH PEWS.

There was the queerest scene at one of the churches last Sunday. It seems that during the vacation the seats had been newly varnished, and somehow the varnish was not right, as it was terrible sticky. You know when you pull anything off of sticky varnish that it cracks. Well, the audience had all got seated, when the minister got up to give out the hymn, and as the basement of his trousers let loose of the varnish of his chair, there was a noiso like killing a fly on the wall with a pilm-loaf fan. The minister looked around at the chair to see if he was all present, and that no guilty man's pants had escaped, and read the hymn. The choir rose with a sound of revelry, and after the tenor had swallowed a lozenge and the bass had coughed up a piece of a frog and the alto had hemmed and the soprano had shook out her polonaise to see if the varnish showed on the south side, the audience began to rise. One or two deacons got up first, with sounds like picket firing in the distance on the eve of battle, and then a few more got up, and the rattling of the unyielding varnish sounded as though tho fight was becoming more animated, and then the whole audience got on its feet at once, with a sound of rattling musketry. Tho choir sang " Hold the Fort." When the orchestra had concluded the people sat down gingerly, tho services were short, and all went home praying for the man that painted the seats.—Peck's " Bun."