Curious Republic of Gondour | Page 6

good Christian friend who, if he sat in the front pew in church,
and a working man should enter the door at the other end, would smell
him instantly. My friend is not to blame for the sensitiveness of his
nose, any more than you would flog a pointer for being keener on the
scent than a stupid watch dog. The fact is, if you, had all the churches
free, by reason of the mixing up of the common people with the
uncommon, you would keep one-half of Christendom sick at their
stomach. If you are going to kill the church thus with bad smells, I will
have nothing to do with this work of evangelization.
We have reason to believe that there will be labouring men in heaven;
and also a number of negroes, and Esquimaux, and Terra del Fuegans,
and Arabs, and a few Indians, and possibly even some Spaniards and
Portuguese. All things are possible with God. We shall have all these
sorts of people in heaven; but, alas! in getting them we shall lose the
society of Dr. Talmage. Which is to say, we shall lose the company of
one who could give more real "tone" to celestial society than any other
contribution Brooklyn could furnish. And what would eternal
happiness be without the Doctor? Blissful, unquestionably--we know
that well enough but would it be 'distingue,' would it be 'recherche'
without him? St. Matthew without stockings or sandals; St. Jerome bare
headed, and with a coarse brown blanket robe dragging the ground; St.
Sebastian with scarcely any raiment at all--these we should see, and
should enjoy seeing them; but would we not miss a spike-tailed coat
and kids, and turn away regretfully, and say to parties from the Orient:
"These are well enough, but you ought to see Talmage of Brooklyn." I
fear me that in the better world we shall not even have Dr. Talmage's
"good Christian friend."
For if he were sitting under the glory of the Throne, and the keeper of
the keys admitted a Benjamin Franklin or other labouring man, that
"friend," with his fine natural powers infinitely augmented by
emancipation from hampering flesh, would detect him with a single
sniff, and immediately take his hat and ask to be excused.

To all outward seeming, the Rev. T. De Witt Talmage is of the same
material as that used in the construction of his early predecessors in the
ministry; and yet one feels that there must be a difference somewhere
between him and the Saviour's first disciples. It may be because here, in
the nineteenth century, Dr. T. has had advantages which Paul and Peter
and the others could not and did not have. There was a lack of polish
about them, and a looseness of etiquette, and a want of exclusiveness,
which one cannot help noticing. They healed the very beggars, and held
intercourse with people of a villainous odour every day. If the subject
of these remarks had been chosen among the original Twelve Apostles,
he would not have associated with the rest, because he could not have
stood the fishy smell of some of his comrades who came from around
the Sea of Galilee. He would have resigned his commission with some
such remark as he makes in the extract quoted above: "Master, if thou
art going to kill the church thus with bad smells, I will have nothing to
do with this work of evangelization." He is a disciple, and makes that
remark to the Master; the only difference is, that he makes it in the
nineteenth instead of the first century.
Is there a choir in Mr. T.'s church? And does it ever occur that they
have no better manners than to sing that hymn which is so suggestive
of labourers and mechanics:
"Son of the Carpenter! receive This humble work of mine?"
Now, can it be possible that in a handful of centuries the Christian
character has fallen away from an imposing heroism that scorned even
the stake, the cross, and the axe, to a poor little effeminacy that withers
and wilts under an unsavoury smell? We are not prepared to believe so,
the reverend Doctor and his friend to the contrary notwithstanding.

A COUPLE OF SAD EXPERIENCES
When I published a squib recently in which I said I was going to edit an
Agricultural Department in this magazine, I certainly did not desire to
deceive anybody. I had not the remotest desire to play upon any one's

confidence with a practical joke, for he is a pitiful creature indeed who
will degrade the dignity of his humanity to the contriving of the witless
inventions that go by that name. I purposely wrote the thing as absurdly
and as extravagantly as it could be written, in order