ASLEEP IN CHURCH.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XI, Issue 149, 15 June 1876, Page 4

ASLEEP IN CHURCH.

(ZDanbury News) Did yon ever gd to sleep in church ? We don't mean to ask if you have done so deliberately. Of course you haven't. You put your head on the back of the seat io front just to rest it, and to think of the sermon. The words of (he preacher are very distinct at first. They present something for your mind to, take hold of,, ahd to wrestle intellectually with. Then tbey calm you ' acd soothe you. They become a lullaby that floats through your brain, gently filling in lhe crevices, and giving you a blissful sense of rest. Tbey merge themselves so imperceptibly with your most distant thoughts as to lose their i identity. Farther and farther away they sound, until they have disappeared entirely. The scene suddenly changes. You are in the midst of a maddened mob. There is a struggle on your part to save yourself from their violence. You strike out and kick out, and squirm and wrench yourself. It is a desperate struggle. Every muscle in your body stands out like whip oords, every nerve is stretched to its utmost. You succeed !in getting free from the mass. Then you start on a run, with the pack running after you. You cry out for health. You shriek at the top of your voice for succour. Blindly galloping along you oome unexpectedly to a precipice. You make. a herculean effort to save yourself. But it is too late. With a scream of terror you go over its edge and are hurled headlong into, the dreadful abyss below. Then you awake. You have hit your head on the back of the pew. For a moment there is a dreadful vagueness as to your whereabouts. The next moment brings with it tbe realisation that you are in church. The words of the minister awake you to this consciousness with awful distinctness. What did you do iv that dream ? is a query that takes hold of you with frightful force, i Did you throw your arms in the air ? Did you kick the bench ? Did you scream out? The perspiration gathers in great drops on your face, and sharp flashes of heat shoot along your spine, while there is sinking enough in the pit of your stomach to start a shaft in a gold mine. You dare not look up. You can imagine every eye in the assembly is turned upon you, waiting to confront you face to face. It is a dreadful feeling — so dreadful that it finally becomes unbearable, and presently you slowly raise your head, and gradually, but furtively, glance about you. . The congregation is as you left them. Not an eye is turned towards you, and you might believe that you had not been asleep at all were it not for the awakening of one leg accompanied by all tbe poignant sensations of that operation.