“‘The sermon being ended,
All turned and descended;
The pikes went on stealing,
The eels went on eeling.
Much delighted were they,
But preferred the old way!’
“It is from St. Anthony’s sermon to the fishes, I believe, but that is all I know of the poem,” said Mr. Clare.
“Ah! there’s a deal of human nature in fishes,” said the doctor, laughing. “Well, then, what is the good of preaching?”
“There’s more good in practising, I admit; still a sermon does sometimes come back to one—like Longfellow’s Arrow, don’t you know,” replied the clergyman. “But I must say,” he added, laughing, “that I don’t set quite such a value upon preaching as some people. I should not, for example, if I had undertaken to ‘Look Backward,’ like Mr. Bellamy, have found my ideal Sunday in listening to a sermon by telephone. It doesn’t quite fulfil one’s idea of worship, however excellent the sermon.”
“Worship? why, the life they led in the year 2000 and the work they had done for the world was a better worship than if they had whined away on their knees for a month.”