Young Folks.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 34, 18 November 1893, Page 3

Young Folks.

AN AMERICAN PREACHER’S DOG. I called my dog, he says, one beautiful Sunday morning in August, and walked two miles to preach for a friend. On arriving at the church, I tied Rah with a stout string to a sapling outside, and instructed him to lie down and keep quiet. My text was, “ and Satan came also.” I advanced the thought that evil comes into all that is best in life, into our purest motives, our noblest actions, our highest aspirations. Even into our worship worldly thoughts intrude, and our holiest hours are polluted by the presence of the adversary. Xes, I cried, Satan always comes to church. Just then, to my dismay, I beheld a dreadful commentary on my words. Down the main aisle—with wagging tail and triumphant eye—trotted that ill-fated dog making straight for the pulpit. Fortunately a pious layman intercepted his advance and ejected him from the sanctuary; but he was always called Satan afterwards. On another occasion I took him to church with me, and left him outside during service. Warming up with my sermon, I spoke quite loudly, when an answering bark from Rab rang out on the still air. I immediately lowered my voice, but soon forgot myself and shouted. The faithful Rab responded again. This happened several times. After service one of the deacons remarked that my dog was evidently an Episcopalian, as he came in so promptly in the responses.—Selected.