"Oh, no! Don't use such ugly language. We just want to relieve you of a burden—that's all, old sock."
"You don't call that robbery?" asked the Bishop.
"Come, now, old coon! Dry up, or you'll not have an opportunity to ask any more nonsensical questions. Hand out your money!"
The Bishop reluctantly complied.
"Now that watch of yours!" they further commanded.
"What! Will you not allow me to keep my watch. It is a gift and dearly prized. You would not rob an humble minister of Christ of his timepiece, would you?" queried the Bishop.
"So, ho! You are a parson then, judging from the cut of your buckskins—or a priest—it makes no difference. Well, Christ didn't have any watch, and he didn't ride in stages either. He walked about to do his Father's will, and wasn't arrayed in fine clothes, and didn't fare sumptuously every day. What use has a preacher for a watch? Go and travel like the Master. Out with that watch! No more words—not one, mind you! We are not Christians, we are Philistines."
The Bishop was constrained to give up his watch—a valuable and much prized one.
"Anything more? Out with it."
The Bishop protested that he had nothing more of value about his person. They, however, made a personal examination before they were satisfied, one of them remarking: