Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Roundabout Papersown illuminations paint the book! A sweet, touchingpicture indeed it is, that of the little children assembledin this immense temple, which has endured for ages,and grave teachers bending over them. Yes, the pictureis very pretty of the children and their teachers, andtheir book—but the text? Is it the truth, the only truth,nothing but the truth? If I thought so, I would go andsit down on the form cum parvulis, and learn the preciouslesson with all my heart.BEADLE.—But I submit, an obstacle to conversions isthe intrusion and impertinence of that Swiss fellow withthe baldric—the officer who answers to the beadle ofthe British Islands, and is pacing about the church withan eye on the congregation. Now the boast of Catholicsis that their churches are open to all; but in certainplaces and churches there are exceptions. At Rome Ihave been into St. Peter’s at all hours: the doors arealways open, the lamps are always burning, the faithfulare for ever kneeling at one shrine or the other. But atAntwerp not so. In the afternoon you can go to thechurch, and be civilly treated; but you must pay a francat the side gate. In the forenoon the doors are open, tobe sure, and there is no one to levy an entrance fee. Iwas standing ever so still, looking through the greatgates of the choir at the twinkling lights, and listeningto the distant chants of the priests performing the service,when a sweet chorus from the organ-loft brokeout behind me overhead, and I turned round. My friendthe drum-major ecclesiastic was down upon me in amoment. “Do not turn your back to the altar duringdivine service,” says he, in very intelligible English. Itake the rebuke, and turn a soft right-about face, andlisten awhile as the service continues. See it I cannot,nor the altar and its ministrants. We are separated fromthese by a great screen and closed gates of iron, throughwhich the lamps glitter and the chant comes by gustsonly. Seeing a score of children trotting down a sideaisle, I think I may follow them. I am tired of looking atthat hideous old pulpit with its grotesque monsters anddecorations. I slip off to the side aisle; but my friendthe drum-major is instantly after me—almost I thought176