No, I tank no, de Norden Pacific fallers is good enough for me.
A short time ago a somewhat laughable incident took place in a northern church. The minister, after proclaiming the banns of matrimony between a young couple, concluded by saying, If there be any objections, they can now be stated. A fashionable youth, an old admirer of the intended bride, noticing the eyes of a portion of the congregation fixed upon him, rose up and exclaimed, I have no objection for my own part, to the astonishment of all about him, and resumed his seat, as if he had done a mere formal piece of business.
Each Sunday the parson rode three miles to church. On this particular Sunday it was raining very hard. He rode the distance on horseback and, when he reached the church, was soaking wet.
Several of the good old sisters who were there early placed a chair before the fire for him and hung his wet coat up to dry.
I am so afraid I won’t be dry enough to preach, he said.
Oh, said one of the sisters, when you get in the pulpit and start preaching, you will be dry enough.