PADUTCH-LIFE-L Archives

From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: 15-The New Pastor
Date: Mon, 10 Aug 1998 11:58:11 -0400

[Note: Please keep in mind that these stories were written 100
years ago and reflect the way our Pennsylvania Dutch ancestors
thought as well as the way they lived. Vee]

THE NEW PASTOR

We have a new pastor on the Mountain, and he's in big
trouble. Old Pastor Mohler, who for thirty years baptized our
children, married them when they became of age, presided at their
funerals when they died, and took his pay in schnitz and homemade
soap, is too old for the young people and has been turned out into a
sorrel field like a faithful old horse. They've elected a younger man.
The new pastor wears glasses, a stiff hat, and dress gloves. He is
single, and everyone likes him--especially the girls. Betz Grill has
her eyes on him, and she believes that now is her chance, especially
since she's been waiting so long and a pastor is public property who
may give himself away to whomsoever he pleases, since everyone
owns him anyway.

Everyone is talking about the new pastor and inviting him to
stay, and if he calls on a parishioner he'll sleep in the best bed and
dine on the fattest rooster. For a morning prayer he'll take his big
Bible from the table which stands in the “big room” where no one
dare enter except in the company of the pastor, and in fact everyone
treats him just like he's a king. For now they're treating him just like
royalty, but when they find out that he's just a common man they'll
treat him like a pig. But this is not his only trouble. The first man
that he met in our congregation after his election told him to be
careful not to preach anything against dancing, because nearly
everyone living on the Mountain dances. Another told him not to
preach against card playing, since all the young people are playing
"progressive yucker,” and a third warned him about preaching
against buying liquor, since the deacon was a customer of
Hullahecka's tavern.

"Well, my dear friends," he said, "about what shall I preach?"

"Give hell to the Mormons. They have no friends on the
Mountain."

Last Sunday he preached against the Mormons, and used
Congressman Roberts as an example. He really shot poor Roberts
in the ribs, but he didn't know that Mike Hetzel and Roberts were
running on the same platform together. Mike is a candidate for the
legislature, and for the last three Sundays had been putting a dollar
in the offering bag. But he doesn't put all his money into the bag.
It's common knowledge at the Mountain that he has two wives. The
one is his wife, and the other is Beckie Leffelfinger. Beckie is a
pretty girl, has red hair, eyes like a dove, and breasts like a
pheasant. Her fingers are as covered with rings as the head of an
old steer is covered with horns, and even though Beckie may have
lost a few horseshoes in her life, she's still as spry as a butterfly
and
as lively as an insect. She wears a seal skin coat with a silk lining.

Everyone believes that Beckie's possessions were bought with
Mike's money, and every Sunday Beckie finds a seat at church
where she can keep an eye on him. She smiles and winks at him
from the beginning of the service to the end. And there sits Mike’s
wife, with her old poke bonnet, a woolen shawl, with head lowered
and her eyes on her poor old wrinkled hands which never wore a
ring in her whole life, and which worked hard to hold Mike's money
together.

The pastor preached against husbands who don't take care of
their wives; are angry, stubborn and mean at home; who withhold
praise from their wives to offer it to outsiders; who scold their
wives for asking for a few cents to replace a pair of gloves whose
fingers have long worn out; and who spend time blushing in church
when they should be doing it in the bedroom.

Mike was stung in his seat just as assuredly as if he'd taken a
stinging nettle in his pants, and Beckie Leffelfinger didn't look his
way for the first time in three years. When the preacher was finished
he began the old familiar hymn, "Oh for a face that will not shrink,"
and Mike began to sing as if he'd just woken from a long sleep.
When church was over Mike didn't step forward to shake hands
with the pastor, but instead went straight home. When his wife
asked him what he thought of the sermon, he said: "The young lad
is too smart. I don't think he's read enough about Solomon and
David."

After this he never had any good words for the new pastor,
and some think he may separate completely from the church. If he
did, nothing would be lost. A man who is so debased shouldn't be
occupying a seat where he might cause others to stumble over him
in the dark.

Let me tell you, Roberts is not the only Mormon in congress
or in the church. When the devil goes fishing for men, he often
uses a woman's stocking for bait. And the worst is the bait is easy
to find without digging long and hard. Any woman who is led
astray becomes that bait and furnishes her own halter. "What goes
around comes around" is an old saying as true as it is old. Whoever
doesn't believe it might just give it a little try someday. He'll find
out how quickly he'll have an opportunity to blame the old devil for
leading him down the wrong road. There are only two roads--the
right and the wrong. You can't travel one without turning your back
on the other, and the world has very little room for people who
wear out their pants to the knees every winter by climbing up the
hill of righteousness only to slide back down the other side come
Spring. The devil is always planting thickets that wax underneath
the snow and make the downhill slide more treacherous.

* * *

Note: This collection of Boonastiel stories was written by H. A.
Harter in the original Penna-Dutch dialect and were published in the
Keystone Gazette, Bellefonte, PA, between 1894 and 1904. They
were translated and transcribed by Bob James of Alaska and they
are being posted to this PADUTCH-LIFE mailing list with his
permission.

This thread:

• 15-The New Pastor by "Vee L. Housman" <>