Whenever a Sunday school teacher comes to Louisville invariably a good story is in order. Last night one of them was at a local hotel, and he brought along his story. Morrison R. Kendrick is his name, and Chicago is his town. The story is told by Mr. Kendrick as follows:
Sunday School Superintendent—Who led the children of Israel into Canaan? Will one of the smaller boys answer?
No reply.
Superintendent (sternly)—Can no one tell? You little fellow on that seat next to the aisle, who led the children of Israel into Canaan?
Little Boy (badly frightened)—It wasn’t me. I—I just moved here last week from Missouri.
An amusing incident occurred at the close of Sam Jones’ sermon at Pulaski. Stepping down from the pulpit, folding his hands across his breast, and looking solemnly over the audience, the great revivalist said—
I want all the women in this crowd who have not spoken a harsh word or harbored an unkind thought toward their husbands for a month past to stand up.
One old woman, apparently on the shady side of sixty, stood up.
Come forward and give me your hand, said the preacher.