Now the American sexton--the verger--is a very mighty man indeed. Parsons come and go, but the sexton stays for ever. If he is not very tall and dignified in black broad-cloth, he is generally fat and fussy in the same. He picks out waiting sinners and seats them according to his boundless caprice. He knows just the kind of stray sinner who may be ushered into a charitable pew, and he knows the pews that decline to receive stray sinners under any consideration.
It is curious what courage it takes to penetrate into a strange pew; it is being a kind of Sabbath burglar. Never does a right-minded sexton usher an out-at-elbow sinner into the pew of the rich and great. That they are presumably addressing the same Divine Power is no reason. This explains the Roman Catholic hold on the people. If you are a Roman Catholic, you enter God's house and pray anywhere; but if you are a Protestant, what shy pauper would dare to stray into an expensive pew for a communion with his God?
My American sexton had, in the meantime, bustled down the centre aisle. He looked the little crowd over haughtily, and he refused to catch my wistful eye--my companion was getting very tired. At last I ventured, "Would you kindly show us to Judge ----'s pew?" "Can't now, I'm busy; my young men will come presently," and he darted off.
His young men did not come, and I looked vainly about for succour, for the pews were filling up. Suddenly the great swing-door at the entrance opened, and in came a tall commanding figure, a man of advanced years, whose name is a household word in the land, the great preacher himself. He pulled off his battered slouch hat, and I saw his kind, keen eyes as they rested on the white hair and tired face of my friend. "Why are you waiting here, what can I do for you?" he asked.
"We are waiting to be shown to Judge ----'s pew," I explained.
"I will show you, come with me." This he did, and left us the richer by the kindliest smile in the world.
Different countries, different exercise of temporary power. The English railway guard is not impressive nor much in evidence. The American railroad conductor, on the other hand, is a great man, but he exercises his power genially, and in the intervals of collecting tickets he is approachable. He generally takes up his abiding place at the end of one of the "cars," and puts his legs on the seat opposite and talks with a much flattered chosen one. He sees a good deal of the world, not being shut into a cubby-hole like his English brother. In the course of years of travel along a particular route his popularity becomes so great that it culminates in gifts, and many a popular conductor blazes in the light of a huge diamond "bosom pin," or carries under his arm at night a gorgeous presentation lantern. No man is so great but he feels flattered at his notice, and he really is not very proud, considering, and his power is benign.