The congregation in
Shott Church was very restless, although the sermon was unusually
short. One by one they crept out, and presently they were followed
by the parson. All of them had collected in the pouring rain and
were watching the outfall in the ditches. To their unspeakable
amazement the pipes were all running! Shott scratched its head and
was utterly bewildered. A new idea in a brain not accustomed to the
invasion of ideas produces a disturbance like a revolution. It
causes giddiness almost as bad as that of a fit, and an extremely
unpleasant sensation of having been whirled round and turned head
over heels. It was the beginning of new things in Shott, the
beginning of a breakdown in its traditions; a belief in something
outside the ordinary parochial uniformities was forced into the skull
of every man, woman, and child by the evidence of the senses; and
when other beliefs asked, in the course of time, for admittance they
found the entrance easier than it would have been otherwise.
The elderly occupants of the Tanner's Lane gigs and chaises talked
exclusively upon these and other cognate topics. The sons and
daughters talked about other things utterly unworthy of any record in
a serious history.
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