When I was a little fellow most everybody thought that some days were
too sacred for the young ones to enjoy themselves in. That was the
general idea. Sunday used to commence Saturday night at sundown, under
the old text, "The evening and the morning were the first day." They
commenced then, I think, to get a good ready. When the sun went down
Saturday night, darkness ten thousand times deeper than ordinary night
fell upon that house. The boy that looked the sickest was regarded as
the most pious. You could not crack hickory nuts that night, and if you
were caught chewing gum it was another evidence of the total depravity
of the human heart. It was a very solemn evening. We would sometimes
sing, "Another day has passed." Everybody looked as though they had the
dyspesia--you know lots of people think they are pious, just because
they are bilious, as Mr. Hood says. It was a solemn night, and the next
morning the solemnity had increased. Then we went to church, and the
minister was in a pulpit about twenty feet high. If it was in the winter
there was no fire; it was not thought proper to be comfortable while you
were thanking the Lord. The minister commenced at firstly and ran up to
about twenty-fourthly, and then he divided it up again; and then he
made some concluding remarks, and then he said lastly, and when he said
lastly he was about half through.