smile, and so doth his unchangin' power display as the unwearied sun
from day to day, as the feller says. Nobody neglected, all pleased. You
remember the last pastor wasn't sociable enough, and there was
considerable complaint because he didn't hike right down after the
benediction and jolly the flock as they passed out. We'll have a wire
run the length of the meetin' house, with a gentle slant from the pulpit
to the front door, and as soon as meetin's over, up goes John Henry and
slides down to the front exit, and there he stands, gyratin' and handin'
out pleasant greeting to all,--merry Christmas and happy New Year to
beat the band.

"'Now as for preachin',' I continued, 'you see all you have to do is to
raise up the coat-tails and insert a record on the phonograph concealed
here in the back of the chest, with a speakin' tube runnin' up to the
mouth. John Henry bein' a regular minister, he can get the Homiletic
Review at a dollar and a half a year; we can subscribe for that, get the
up-to-datest sermons by the most distinguished divines, get some gent
that's afflicted with elocution to say 'em into a record, and on Sunday
our friend and pastor here will reel 'em off fine. You press the
button--he does the rest, as the feller says.'

"'How about callin' on the members?' inquires Andy Robinson.

"'Easy,' says I. 'Hire a buggy of Brother Jinks here, who keeps a livery
stable, at one dollar per P.M. Get a nigger to chauffeur the pastor at
fifty cents per same. There you are. Let the boy be provided with an
assortment of records to suit the people--pleasant and sad, consolatory
and gay, encouragin' or reprovin', and so forth. The coon drives up,
puts in a cartridge, sets the pastor in the door, and when the family
gets through with him they sets him out again.