A Scotch minister was asked if he was not very much exhausted after preaching three hours. "Oh, no," he replied; "but it would have done you good to see how worried the people were."
A Thoughtless Wish
A landed proprietor in the small county of Rutland became very intimate with the Duke of Argyle, to whom, in the plenitude of his friendship, he said: "How I wish your estate were in my county!" Upon which the duke replied, "I'm thinking, if it were, there would be no room for yours."
Sunday Thoughts on Recreation
The Rev. Adam Wadderstone, minister in Bathgate, was an excellent man and as excellent a curler, who died in 1780. Late one Saturday night one of his elders received a challenge from the people of Shotts to the curlers of Bathgate to meet them early on Monday morning; and after tossing about half the night at a loss how to convey the pleasing news to the minister, he determined to tell him before he entered the pulpit.
When Mr. Wadderstone entered the session-house, the elder said to him in a loud tone, "Sir, I've something to tell ye; there's to be a parish play with the Shotts folk the morn, at——"
"Whist, man, whist!" was the rejoinder. "Oh, fie, shame, John! fie, shame! Nae speaking to-day about warldy recreations."
But the ruling passion proved too strong for the worthy clergyman's scruples of conscience, for just as he was about to enter the inner door of the church, he suddenly wheeled round and returned to the elder, who was now standing at the plate in the lobby, and whispered in his ear, "But whan's the hoor, John? I'll be sure and be there. Let us sing,
"'That music dear to a curler's ear,
And enjoyed by him alone—
The merry chink of the curling rink,
And the boom of the roaring stone.'"
Relieving His Wife's Anxiety