Mistaken Identity
Mistaken identity frequently leads to curious outcomes. For instance, John Macbeth, a popular young lawyer, who was born in Kildonan, and his brother Roddy, now a favorite Presbyterian preacher in Vancouver, didn’t look alike as much as two peas, but there was the usual family resemblance. At this particular time the Reverend Roddy was preaching in Springfield, not far from Winnipeg. One day, as I was talking to John, one of the Macleods of Kildonan, but then a farmer in Springfield, joined us, and began to tell John how much he enjoyed his sermons. “They’re grand, and I feel uplifted by them. Oh, boy, you’re the best preacher I ever heard, and I don’t want any better one, me whatefer boy.” “But,” replied John, “I’m not Roddy; I’m John.” “The hell you are. Come on John, an’ let’s have a drink.” And naturally—.