Pews and the Price of Heaven
Doestick's went to a fashionable church in a city to buy a pew, but had too light a purse. He says;— “I very soon discovered that no ‘dead heads’* were allowed on this line, and that if a man couldn't pay he was put off the train. After some preliminary chat about the foreign news, the state of the markets, the hope of a revival of religion, the rise in ‘Erie,’ the progress of the work of grace, and the price of pork, the lowly ones gathered around, and the sale began. Those pews nearest the pulpit, or perhaps I should say, those seats next the locomotive, were sold first: they brought seventy, eighty, and even one hundred dollars premium; the price was to be paid merely for a choice of seats, in addition to the regular rent. I instantly saw that I hadn't money enough to take a first class cabin passage, but thought there might be a place for me somewhere. Jones bought a ticket, and Smith and Tompkins; but there was not a single seat that came down to my pile, and I felt I must give up the journey or find a cheaper conveyance; for I certainly couldn't afford to go to heaven at such exorbitant rates.”