seem to get to theatres, lectures, and disolvin' views on time, and
better time than they do to meetin'," sez I. "In your opinin' it hain't
necessary to beat a drum and sound on a bugle as the Salvation Army duz,
to call folks to meetin'; you are dretful hard on them, so I hear."

"Yes, they make a senseless, vulgar, onnecessary racket, disturbin' and
agrivatin' to saint and sinner."

"But," sez I, "they say they do it for the sake of religion."

"Religion hain't to be found in drum-sticks," sez he bitterly.

"No," sez I, "nor in a bell clapper."

"Oh," sez he, "that is a different thing entirely, that is to call
worshippers together, that is necessary."

Sez I, "One hain't no more necessary than the other in my opinion."

Sez he, "Look how fur back in the past the sweet bells have sounded
out."

"Yes," sez I candidly, "and in the sweet past they wuz necessary," sez
I. "In the sweet past, there wuzn't a clock nor a watch, the houses wuz
fur apart, and they needed bells. But now there hain't a house but what
is runnin' over with clocks--everybody knows the time; they know it so
much that time is fairly a drug to 'em. Why, they time themselves right
along through the day, from breakfast to midnight. Time their meals,
their business, their pleasures, their music, their lessons, their
visits, their visitors, their pulse beats, and their dead beats. They