The deacons and other officers of a church had met to discuss the best method of getting rid of a pastor who had worn out his usefulness. After various methods had been suggested without any of them seeming feasible, one brother, who was a good deal of a wag, said:
I tell you what to do. Let’s pay him all his salary in arrears and raise him to a thousand a year and he will drop dead.
A certain Duluth clergyman was a rather prosy speaker, but occasionally he proved that he had ready wit. One evening he was addressing his congregation on the beauty of leading an upright life, when he suddenly paused and beckoned to the sexton. Brown, said he, in a clear, distinct tone of voice, open a couple of windows on each side of the church, please. Beg your pardon, sir! exclaimed the sexton, with a look of great surprise. Did I understand you to say, open the windows? It is a very bitter cold night, sir. Yes, I am well aware of that, Brown, was the cold, hard reply of the clergyman, as he gazed around the church, but it is not healthy to sleep with the windows shut! We refrain from going any deeper into personalities.
The late Bishop Beckwith, of Georgia, was fond of his gun, and spent much of his time hunting, says Representative Adamson. One day the Bishop was out with his dog and gun, and met a member of his parish, whom he reproved for his inattention to his religious duties. You should attend church and read your Bible, said Bishop. I do read my Bible, Bishop, was the answer, and I don’t find any mention of the Apostles going a-shooting. No, replied the Bishop, the shooting was very bad in Palestine, so they went fishing instead.
A preacher who went to a Kentucky parish where the parishioners bred horses was asked to invite the prayers of the congregation for Lucy Grey. He did so. They prayed three Sundays for Lucy Grey. On the fourth he was told he need not do it any more.
Why, said the preacher, is she dead?