One of the girl ushers in a Flatbush theater had a problem offered her the other evening. She was showing two women to their seats.
"Is the show this evening fit for church women to see?" asked one of the pillaresses of a Flatbush congregation.
"I—I don't know," responded the girl. Then she brightened. "You see," she said, "I don't have no time to go to church."
Mr. Dickson, a colored barber in a large New England town, was shaving one of his customers, a respectable citizen, one morning, when a conversation occurred between them respecting Mr. Dickson's former connection with a colored church in that place:—
"I believe you are connected with the church in Elm Street, are you not, Mr. Dickson?" said his customer.
"No, sah, not at all."
"What! are you not a member of the African Church?"
"Not this year, sah."