And to show how somethings never change, an excerpt about church fundraising ....

***************

FOUR. The Ministrations of the Rev. Mr. Drone

[after replacing the fine little church with the "Greater Testimonies" and "Beacon Set on the Hill", the Mariposa congregation finds themselves in debt]

So things went on from month to month, and from year to year, and the debt and the charges loomed like a dark and gathering cloud on the horizon. I don't mean to say that efforts were not made to face the difficulty and to fight it. They were. Time after time the workers of the congregation got together and thought out plans for the extinction of the debt. But somehow, after every trial, the debt grew larger with each year, and every system that could be devised turned out more hopeless than the last.

They began, I think, with the "endless chain" of letters of appeal. You may remember the device, for it was all-popular in clerical circles some ten or fifteen years ago. You got a number of people to write each of them three letters asking for ten cents from three each of their friends and asking each of them to send on three similar letters. Three each from three each, and three each more from each! Do you observe the wonderful ingenuity of it? Nobody, I think, has forgotten how the Willing Workers of the Church of England Church of Mariposa sat down in the vestry room in the basement with a pile of stationery three feet high, sending out the letters. Some, I know, will never forget it. Certainly not Mr. Pupkin, the teller in the Exchange Bank, for it was here that he met Zena Pepperleigh, the judge's daughter, for the first time; and they worked so busily that they wrote out ever so many letters—eight or nine—in a single afternoon, and they discovered that their handwritings were awfully alike, which was one of the most extraordinary and amazing coincidences, you will admit, in the history of chirography.

But the scheme failed—failed utterly. I don't know why. The letters went out and were copied broadcast and recopied, till you could see the Mariposa endless chain winding its way towards the Rocky Mountains. But they never got the ten cents. The Willing Workers wrote for it in thousands, but by some odd chance they never struck the person who had it.

Then after that there came a regular winter of effort. First of all they had a bazaar that was got up by the Girls' Auxiliary and held in the basement of the church. All the girls wore special costumes that were brought up from the city, and they had booths, where there was every imaginable thing for sale—pincushion covers, and chair covers, and sofa covers, everything that you can think of. If the people had once started buying them, the debt would have been lifted in no time. Even as it was the bazaar only lost twenty dollars.

After that, I think, was the magic lantern lecture that Dean Drone gave on "Italy and her Invaders." They got the lantern and the slides up from the city, and it was simply splendid. Some of the slides were perhaps a little confusing, but it was all there,—the pictures of the dense Italian jungle and the crocodiles and the naked invaders with their invading clubs. It was a pity that it was such a bad night, snowing hard, and a curling match on, or they would have made a lot of money out of the lecture. As it was the loss, apart from the breaking of the lantern, which was unavoidable, was quite trifling.

I can hardly remember all the things that there were after that. I recollect that it was always Mullins who arranged about renting the hall and printing the tickets and all that sort of thing. His father, you remember, had been at the Anglican college with Dean Drone, and though the rector was thirty-seven years older than Mullins, he leaned upon him, in matters of business, as upon a staff; and though Mullins was thirty-seven years younger than the Dean, he leaned against him, in matters of doctrine, as against a rock.

At one time they got the idea that what the public wanted was not anything instructive but something light and amusing. Mullins said that people loved to laugh. He said that if you get a lot of people all together and get them laughing you can do anything you like with them. Once they start to laugh they are lost. So they got Mr. Dreery, the English Literature teacher at the high school, to give an evening of readings from the Great Humorists from Chaucer to Adam Smith. They came mighty near to making a barrel of money out of that. If the people had once started laughing it would have been all over with them. As it was I heard a lot of them say that they simply wanted to scream with laughter: they said they just felt like bursting into peals of laughter all the time. Even when, in the more subtle parts, they didn't feel like bursting out laughing, they said they had all they could do to keep from smiling. They said they never had such a hard struggle in their lives not to smile.

In fact the chairman said when he put the vote of thanks that he was sure if people had known what the lecture was to be like there would have been a much better "turn-out." But you see all that the people had to go on was just the announcement of the name of the lecturer, Mr. Dreery, and that he would lecture on English Humour All Seats Twenty-five Cents. As the chairman expressed it himself, if the people had had any idea, any idea at all, of what the lecture would be like they would have been there in hundreds. But how could they get an idea that it would be so amusing with practically nothing to go upon?

*********************

Sounds familiar ;-)

The Gutenberg e-text is also available in Kobo's free books section for those using Kobo readers.

I've read individual stories from Sketches... in various places over the years, but never read the whole thing straight through. One more for my to read list (along with revisiting Mr. Dickens).

Mendalla

Will you be watching the televised version tonight on CBC?  Should be quite fun I think.

Many years back, a neighbour of mine was working on a screenplay for one of the stories - so it will be interesting to see if that story is included in the televised version tonight - and how it is similar & different to what my friend wrote :)

Jill Hennessy, who is in it, was interviewed on CBC's Ontario Morning Fresh Air (forgot it was a weekend) today. Apparently they've woven two of the stories in with the story of Leacock's own childhood with Hennessy as Leacock's mother.

Mendalla

I wonder - is Leacock even studied in our school programmes in Ontario?  He's a treasure - so in our true Canadian fashion, we likely ignore him in curriculum! (yes - you do dectect some sarcasm in that comment!)  Any English teachers out there?

I read some Leacock in school twenty+ years ago. Not sure about today. Little Mendalla says he hasn't read any but he's only in Grade 7 and I think I encountered Leacock in high school.

Mendalla

I included Leacock on the course of study when I taught the OAC Canadian Literature Course several years ago, especially "Sunshine Sketches".  Doubt that anyone teaches it today which is unfortunate.  Great satirist and humourist.  Hope to be able to watch the CBC program this evening.

Another favourite was W.O. Mitchell.

In one of those serendipitous moments, I happened across the CBC production of Sunshine Sketches last night.  I did not know when I made the initial post that it was on.  I enjoyed it, particularly the tale of Publican Smith and his battles with the Liquor Commission.

I also have to fly a little Muskoka flag here ... for the steamer that "sank" was our own flagship the Segwun ...

Great show - was able to watch most of it.  My favourite sketch is "The Extraordinary Entanglement of Mr. Pupkin".

Well done CBC - great to see so many familiar faces, but in different roles.  Some witty chatter, which I enjoyed, as well as the clever names of characters.  Costuming & sets were well done IMO.    I enjoyed the dramatic sinking of the ship ... :)    Thought that probably was your Seguin LB.   And of course the 'bad guy' had a soft spot ... so Canadian!

More blatant Muskoka boostering ...

That was also beautiful Lake Muskoka that they were sailing on and the reality is that if it had sank on Lake Muskoka, it would have really sank because it is a deep lake, unlike Kashe and Simcoe where Leacock would have boated on.

There were several sinkings on the Muskoka Lakes.  John Ibbiston (journalist for the Globe and former Muskokan) wrote a great book called The Landing that gives a gripping chapter on a steamer going down based on the sinking of the Waome.  The Waome still rests on the bottom and is a favoured dive site.

btw, like the people of Orillia, when Muskokans read Ibbiston's tale, we can easily recognize the characters whose names were changed to protect the infamous ;-)

I think that it was just as they were singing like this: "O—Can-a-da," that word went round that the boat was sinking.

     Stephen Leacock, Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town,

      THREE. The Marine Excursions of the Knights of Pythias