Ohio, 1845
"Hallo! Merchants, clerks, grocers, landlords, bar-keepers, loafers, and drunkards — come up." Such was the exclamation made by an individual who stopped in the middle of the street last Thursday afternoon.
A crowd immediately gathered around, out of curiosity to see what 'crazy loon' it was that should interrupt the tranquility of our street. But curiosity was shortly turned into downright pleasure, for it was soon discovered that it was no other than Mr. Fiester, the Buckeye Self-Sharpener, the great Temperance Lecturer.
He lectured to an audience of some 50 or 60 for about an hour, meeting with some opposition from two or three persons who were evidently enjoying the bliss of being 'three sheets in the wind,' and who were unwilling to have their rights and privileges attacked in such a sudden and unexpected manner.
Mr. F. lectured in the Methodist Church that evening to a crowded house, and the next day in the afternoon, to the Temperance Convention, which happened then to be held. — X. Y. Z.
—Huron Reflector, Norwalk, Ohio, Aug. 19, 1845, p. 3.
Showing posts with label 1845. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1845. Show all posts
Monday, May 7, 2007
A Dovetailer of Sermons
1845
The Rev. Dr. B—— was what is commonly termed a popular preacher; not, however, by drawing on his own stores, but by the knack when he possessed of appropriating the thoughts and language of other great divines who had gone before him to his own use, and by a skillful splicing and dovetailing of passages, so as to make a whole. Fortunately for him, those who composed his audience were not deeply skilled in pulpit lore, and with such he passed for a wonder of erudition. It happened, however, that the doctor was detected in his literary larcenies. One Sunday, a grave old gentleman seated himself close to the pulpit, and listened with profound attention. The doctor had scarcely finished his third sentence, before the old gentleman said loud enough to be heard by those near him, "That's Sherlock." The doctor frowned, but went on. He had not proceeded much farther, when his grave auditor broke out with "That's Tillotson." The doctor bit his lips and paused, but again went on. At a third exclamation of, "That's Blair," the doctor lost all patience, and leaning over the side of the pulpit, cried, "Fellow, if you don't hold your tongue, you shall be turned out!" Without altering a muscle the old cynic, looking the doctor full in the face, says, "That's his own."
Geniuses Shouldn't Marry
A woman named Christian poisoned her husband, lately, at Wurtemburgh, for which she had her trial. The reasons for the act were, that he was always looking for the Philosopher's stone or inventing the perpetual motion. — St. Louis Reveille.
—Mineral Point Democrat, Mineral Point, Wisconsin, May 2, 1845, p. 1.
The Rev. Dr. B—— was what is commonly termed a popular preacher; not, however, by drawing on his own stores, but by the knack when he possessed of appropriating the thoughts and language of other great divines who had gone before him to his own use, and by a skillful splicing and dovetailing of passages, so as to make a whole. Fortunately for him, those who composed his audience were not deeply skilled in pulpit lore, and with such he passed for a wonder of erudition. It happened, however, that the doctor was detected in his literary larcenies. One Sunday, a grave old gentleman seated himself close to the pulpit, and listened with profound attention. The doctor had scarcely finished his third sentence, before the old gentleman said loud enough to be heard by those near him, "That's Sherlock." The doctor frowned, but went on. He had not proceeded much farther, when his grave auditor broke out with "That's Tillotson." The doctor bit his lips and paused, but again went on. At a third exclamation of, "That's Blair," the doctor lost all patience, and leaning over the side of the pulpit, cried, "Fellow, if you don't hold your tongue, you shall be turned out!" Without altering a muscle the old cynic, looking the doctor full in the face, says, "That's his own."
Geniuses Shouldn't Marry
A woman named Christian poisoned her husband, lately, at Wurtemburgh, for which she had her trial. The reasons for the act were, that he was always looking for the Philosopher's stone or inventing the perpetual motion. — St. Louis Reveille.
—Mineral Point Democrat, Mineral Point, Wisconsin, May 2, 1845, p. 1.
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