A Scene in Church on Sunday.
A rich merchant, a poor widow, a young man battling with temptations, and a poor cigar-maker who has lately lost his wife, were among the number who entered the massive portals of the elegant church at E—, last Sunday night. The rich merchant sought his highly upholstered pew, the poor widow an obscure corner, and the cigar-maker and the young man endeavored to make themselves comfortable on a seat near the door. The service commenced; the choir sang a hymn alone, the minister kneeled on a soft ottoman and prayed for all the world, then the collection was taken up, a long list of ungodly amusements was announced for the coming week, another hymn was sung to a tune no one knew but the choir, and then the minister with all eyes riveted upon him announced his text. Until then a helpless and disinterested look was upon our friends; the service, as yet, had no attraction for them. The merchant was evidently in the realms of stocks and bonds and coming dividends. The poor widow was in doubt about the coming rent. The cigar-maker had been in church twice since his wedding—once at his wife’s funeral, and at the present occasion; he evidently did not feel at home. The tempted young man was still agonizing over his temptation, and discussing it pro and con. But now, the minister stands up to deliver the oracles of God, their disinterestedness is turned to expectancy. They evidently felt "hungry." It matters little where the text was located, the subject was "Evolution." The congregation settled itself down to hear a fine discourse, and to luxuriate in the realms of the minister’s fancy. Vast and deep was the learning he had acquired, long and wide were the paths of knowledge he had trodden. He summoned all his logic and rhetoric to demolish his opponents, and the ghosts of ungodly science were only summoned forth to be put to inglorious flight. Tyndall, Huxley, and Darwin were crushed beneath the weight of his arguments and consigned to everlasting infamy by the invective of his sarcasm. He had arrived as far as the carboniferous period and was holding before his hearers' eyes the first vestiges of an aborescent vegetation, when a wave of uneasiness passed simultaneously over our four friends. Their destitute hearts rebelled against the feast of mind. The merchant had left one part to be filled with Christ. The elements of his better nature had pleaded with him to wait at least until Sunday night before he had given that sacred reservation to the world. But now as he sat listening to "Evolution," stock, bonds, merchandise, and worldly ambition were soon scrambling for the sacred locality and Christ stood without grieved. The poor widow, immersed in deep affliction, was looking for the hand of Christ to draw her out. Instead of having her wounds healed up with the balm of God’s mercies and promises there came floating toward her in soft cadences and mellifluous sweetness, words that she understood not and which sounded like "Crustacean, Articulates, Batrachians." She, alas, went down to her lonely house with her faith and with a heart whose longing had remained unsatisfied. The poor cigar-maker, who has always cared more for tobacco than for Christ, had lately been brought into the presence of God by the death of his wife. He had just caught a faint glimpse of the fact that the best part of his life was beyond the grave. Hastening to the church he listened eagerly for some words of cheer, and looked in vain for a beam of hope. A gap had been taken out of his nature, and he was unconsciously looking for Christ to fill it. But a despondent look settled over his face as the void remained untilled, and he never knew how near he had been to "the kingdom." What was he to know about the "tridactyl foot prints of ornithoid reptiles!" The tempted young man had come to church as a place of refuge. Fierce and bitter was the conflict which was raging within him. He listened eagerly for some words of comfort, but none came. Instead of Christ’s pleadings he heard something about the tertiary epoch. Instead of having some sweet peace distilled into his soul he listened to a Ciceronian period on "prehistoric man." He gave up in despair, and just as the minister was ending in a brilliant peroration the temptation overpowered him. And as the vast congregation was slowly wending its way out of the church enlivened by the peals of the organ there were four who were going into the coming week with dissatisfied hearts. There were four who had hungered for Christ and been filled with husks of science.—N. Y. Advocate.