"A funeral is always sad whether one is in the ministry or not, isn't it?"
"Usually, but a funeral service might bring a great deal of pleasure to a minister."
"What do you mean?"
"It would afford me a great deal of pleasure to preach the funeral sermon over the remains of some of the brothers who are continually knocking, or of the sisters who are always suffering from the 'hoof and mouth disease.'"
"Tut, tut, my dear," his wife replied, shaking her finger at him, "to hear you talk one would think you have some members in your flock whom you do not love."
"Well, to tell the truth," he said, laughing, "I have a few members who would be so much more lovable dead."
"What a boy you are." She lifted her face toward his and he kissed her fervently.
As she stood watching him walk down the street she noticed that his step was not quite so sprightly as it had been when they were married thirty-five years before and that his shoulders were beginning to bow under the burdens of life. She rejoiced that while his body was aging his heart and spirits retained their youthfulness.
As the minister passed Isaac Goldberg's place the little Jew called to him from his door. "Shust a minute, Reverend, I vonts to speak to you."
"All right, Mr. Goldberg. What is it?"