The idea of
Wisconsin appearing among the galaxy of States with a bob-tailed badger is
repugnant to all our finer feelings.
TERROR IN CHURCH.
A ridiculous scene occurred at Palmyra, the other day. The furnace in the
basement of the church is reached by a trap door, which is right beside
the pulpit. There was a new preacher there from abroad, and he did not
know anything about the trap door, and the sexton went down there to fix
the fire, before the new minister arrived. The minister had just got
warmed up in his sermon, and was picturing to his hearers hell in all its
heat. He had got excited and told of the lake of burning brimstone below,
where the devil was the stoker, and where the heat was ten thousand times
hotter than a political campaign, and where the souls of the wicked would
roast, and fry, and stew until the place froze over.
Wiping the perspiration from his face, he said, pointing, to the floor,
"Ah, my friends, look down into that seething, burning lake,
and--" Just at this point the trap door raised a little, and the sexton's
face, with coal smut all over it, appeared. He wanted to come up and hear
the sermon.
[Illustration: "AH, MY FRIENDS, LOOK DOWN INTO THAT BURNING LAKE!"]
If hell had broke loose, the new minister could not have been more
astonished.
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