Part 8

Deacon Broadbent, an honest and pious man, was conducting a Christmas revival with great success. In a word, his powerful exhortations had brought Calhoun White, the town's worst sinner, weeping to the mourner's bench.

The deacon, gratified by this proof of his evangelical prowess, hastened to Calhoun's side.

"Deacon," sobbed Calhoun, "'tain't no use in mah comin' up. I'se sinned away de day o' grace."

"No, you hain't, brudder Cal," said the deacon. "All yo' got to do is to gib up sin an' all will be forgibben."

"I'se done gib it up, deacon, but dar hain't no salvation fo' me."

"Yes, dey is, honey. Dey hain't no sin so black but it kin be washed whiter'n de snow."

"But I don stole fo' young turkeys last week," said the penitent.

"Dat's all forgibben, Cal."

"An' free de week befo'."

"Dat's forgibben, too."

"An' six fat Christmas geese----"

"---- six fat Christmas geese outer yore own yard, deacon--dem fat geese wot yo' 'lowed to set so much store by."

"Wot's dat yo' say?" the deacon hissed furiously.

"It wuz me wot stole yo' Christmas geese, sah."

"I reckon, Calhoun," he said slowly, "I reckon I'se spoke too hasty. Dis case o' yourn needs advisement. I ain't sho' dat we's justified in clutterin' up de Kingdom o' Heben wid chicken thieves."

PROTECTING THE MINISTER

One day a village parson was summoned in haste by Mrs. Johnson, who had been taken seriously ill. He went in some wonder at the summons, because the woman was not of his parish, and was known to be devoted to her own minister, the Rev. Mr. Hopkins.

While he was waiting in the parlor before seeing the sick woman, he passed the time talking with her daughter.

"I am very pleased your mother thought of me in her illness," he said. "Is Mr. Hopkins away?"

"Oh, dear no," she replied, "but we are afraid mother has something contagious, like small-pox, and we couldn't think of letting dear Mr. Hopkins run any risk!"

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"If yu trade horses with a jockey, you kan't git cheated but once. But--if yu trade with a deakon yu may git cheated twice--once in the horse, and once in the deakon" ... "Go in when it rains."

_Josh Billings_

* * * * *

"Now, my man," said the minister to the happy bridegroom after the marriage ceremony, "you have come to the end of all your troubles." The man came back to the minister a week later and said: "You told me I had come to the end of all my troubles when I got married, and I find they are just beginning." "Ah, my dear brother," was the response, "all troubles have two ends, and I didn't say which end, did I?"

WALLA WALLA!

It is related that once upon a time the President paid an important visit to an Indian reservation in the Far and Distant West. In honor of the great occasion the great chiefs of the tribe were all gathered together, arrayed in their best bib and tucker, all war-paint and feathers, and sat cross-legged in a great circle listening to the words of wisdom from the Great Father.

"Noble Red Men of the Forest," began the President, "Primeval and Original Proprietors of the Soil of the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave! I am delighted to see you!"

And all the Indians round the circle exclaimed: "Walla Walla!" This evidently being Indian for "Hear! Hear!"

"You have indeed been greatly wronged," continued the speaker, "and I take your wrongs to my own heart, and I shall take immediate measures for their redress, and shall demand that hereafter justice shall be done to the noble Red Men, the Original Proprietors of the Free Soil of America."

And the Indians again shouted approval, "Walla Walla!"

"Aye," he continued, "on my return to Washington I shall personally see to it that your wrongs are righted, and shall direct that the Indian Appropriation be greatly increased, so that you may spend your lives in comfort and plenty."

Again in deep and guttural tones the Indians applauded, "Walla Walla!"

After it was all over, the President expressed his delight at the hearty interest and evident appreciation of his warlike auditors, being particularly impressed with the fact that they had so well understood his remarks, as was sufficiently manifest by the fact that they applauded every time just at the right place. And then the Interpreter asked him whether he knew what Walla Walla meant? And he not knowing the meaning thereof, the cruel Interpreter disillusioned him by telling him that Walla Walla was Indian for "Hot Air!"

THE WICKED PARROT

A gentleman who spent part of a summer recently in England relates an incident which very sadly disturbed the religious peace of a parish in Penzance.

A gentleman, his wife and his mother-in-law lived together. They had a parrot. And the parrot had somehow and somewhere--they could not imagine how or where--picked up the very disagreeable habit of remarking at frequent intervals:

"Wisht the old woman were dead. Wisht the old woman were dead." This annoyed the good people of the house very much, and they at last ventured to speak to the curate about it.

"I think we can rectify the matter," replied the good man. "I also have a parrot, and he is a very righteous bird, having been brought up in the way he should go. I will lend you my parrot, and I trust his good influence will soon reform that depraved bird of yours."

The curate's parrot was placed in the same room with the wicked one, and as soon as the two had become accustomed to each other, the bad bird remarked:

"Wisht the old woman were dead."

Whereupon the clergyman's bird rolled up his eyes, and in solemn accents responded:

"We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord."

The story got out in the parish, and for several Sundays it was thought expedient to omit the Litany at the church services.

DOING THE DONS

Dr. Jowett was a warm friend of University extension. When the question came up at Oxford of entertaining the students during the summer, he found the Dons very much opposed to giving up even temporarily their quarters, claiming their vested rights even in vacation. The Master, however, controlled the buttery, and also the chapel exercises. He accordingly cut down the commissariat and lengthened out the prayers, until the Dons yielded and quietly moved out. As a party of them, portmanteaus in hand, were walking to the railway station one day, he chuckled to a friend, "This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting."

EXEUNT OMNES

Barnum, the great showman, once upon a time lit upon a very happy expedient to get a great company of people to move on. They were packed together in the great tent, and every one of them was anxious to see all that was to be seen, and determined not to miss anything. It was necessary to clear the room, but the crowd couldn't be shoved and wouldn't go out. At the direction of the great showman a man appeared with a brush and a kettle of red paint. He painted just one word, in big letters, on a door leading out into a side street. The word was EGRESS. "Come on," said the crowd, "let's go in and see The Egress." They went in, and they went out, and they saw

THE EGRESS