Taste too strong o' money. Don't have no good apples now
no more anyways. All so dried up and pethy. An' what is it but a
theayter, I'd like to know? Weth your lectures about the Ar'tic
regions an' your mum-socials, an' all like that, chargin' money fer
to git in the meetin' house. I tell you what it is, Brother Littell,
the women folks 'd take the money they fritter away on ribbons and
artificial flowers an' gold an'costly apparel, which I have saw
them turned away from the love-feast fer wearin', an' 'ud give it
in fer quarterage an' he'p support the preachin' of the Word, they
wouldn't need to be no shows in the meetin' house an' they 'd be
more expeerimental religion."
Abel Horn (Abel led the singing in meeting, and had a loud bass
voice; he always began before everybody and ended after everybody)
was standing behind Uncle Billy, and Lycurgus could see him with
his head juked forward and his eyebrows up and his mouth wide open
in silent laughter, very disconcerting to Brother Littell, who
didn't want to anger Uncle Billy, and maybe lose his trade by
grinning in his face.
"An' now you got to go an' put up a Christmas tree right in the
altar," stormed Uncle Billy, "an' dike it all out with pop-corn an'
candles. You're gittin' as bad 's the Catholics, every bit. Worse,
I say, becuz they never had the Gospel light, an' is jist led round
by the priest an' have to pay to git their sins forgive.
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