Just before the collection was taken up one Sunday morning a negro clergyman announced that he regretted to state that a certain brother had forgotten to lock the door of his chicken-house the night before, and as a result in the morning he found that most of the fowls had disappeared. “I doan’ want to be pussonal, bredr’n,” he added, “but I hab my s’picions as to who stole dem chickens. I also hab reason fo’ b’lievin’ dat if I am right in dose s’picions dat pusson won’t put any money in de plate which will now be passed around.”
The result was a fine collection; not a single member of the congregation feigned sleep. After it was counted the old parson came forward.
“Now, bredr’n,” he said, “I doan’ want your dinners to be spoilt by wonderin’ where dat brudder lives who doan’ lock his chickens up at night. Dat brudder doan’ exist, mah friends. He was a parable gotten up fo’ purpose of finances.”
A minister in a Western town was called upon one afternoon to perform the marriage ceremony between a negro couple—the negro preacher of the town being absent from home.
After the ceremony the groom asked the price of the service.
“Oh, well,” said the minister, “you can pay me whatever you think it is worth to you.”
The negro turned and silently looked his bride over from head to foot, then slowly rolling up the whites of his eyes, said:
“Lawd, sah, you has done ruined me for life, you has, for shuah.”