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THE BULLETIN OF THE CATHOLIC LAYMEN'S ASSOCIATION OF GEORGIA
9
CLERICAL LIFE—SOME OF ITS SERIOUS AND HUMOROUS SIDES
The Fourth of a Series of Articles From a Gifted Clerical Pen
By P. H. D.
There are few things more necessary in a parish
than pomptness in the matter of the time for serv
ices. One of my predecessors, so I was told, would
come down to the church at 7:15 every morning to
say the Mass announced for 7. One morning as
he was slowly walking to his Church at 7:30, he
was overtaken by an old lady, who said: ‘‘Father,
I’m afraid you’ll be a little late for the 7 o’clock
Mass.” “Oh, never fear,” he replied, “they will not
begin Mass until you and I get there.”
I determined to profit by his unpleasant experience
and told the people that the 7 o’clock Mass would
commence at 7 precisely, and so with regard to all
the services, not merely Mass and Vespers, But all
the services. The hour for Baptisms on Sunday was
3. We had Sunday School at 3:30 and Vespers at
4:30.
One afternoon as I Was going to the basement at
3.25 for Sunday School, I saw a couple of people, a
man and woman, and the latter carrying a baby
going into the Church. I hurried up stairs and said
to the woman: “Don’t you know that Baptisms are
at 3 o’clock. Goodness knows I have announced it
often enough, and here you come with a child to be
baptized, and it’s half past three, and I ought to be
in the Sunday School.”
The old lady told me she was from Philadelphia
and had only come down on Friday, and she did not
know anything about our hours, etc. I toT3 them to
get ready and I opened the font, put on my surplice
and stole, and then said: “What is the name of the
child?” The old lady said to her husband, who was
the Godfather: “Jimmy, what name did they tell
you?” He quickly replied: “They never said noth
ing to me, except would I come and stand for the
child.”
I confess I was getting a little impatient, and I
said to the woman: “Didn’t they tell you, when they
asked you to stand for the child, what name they
intended to give it?” ‘‘They did not,” she replied,
“the old man came in last night and said, ‘Mary,
we are to stand for Lucy’s boy tomorrow,’ that
was all.
I took a prayer book and opening at the Litany
of the Saints, said, “Pick out a name for the boy.”
I waited for what seemed to me a quarter of an hour,
and at last said: “Please hurry, I can’t wait here,
I ought to be in the Sunday School now.”
As a matter of fact, neither of the couple could
read, but they didn’t like to admit it. At last the
old man came back and said: “Call him that,
Father.” His finger pointed to these words of the
Litany: “We sinners beseech Thee to hear jus.” As
I couldn’t wait any longer, I called him'Euke, for
that was his father’s name.
That night the child’s father came to me looking
very much worried, and when I asked him what was
the matter, he said: “Father, I hear you gave that
child of mine you baptized today the name, Luke.
It’s a fine name, Father, it’s mine and was my fath
er’s before me, may God rest his soul. But, Father,
sure it was a girl.” “Well Luke.” I assured, ‘‘sup
pose we call it Lucy.” Well, she has gone known to
the world as Lucy, and is a fine woman. Of course,
I didn’t get to Sunday School that day.
For many a day I kept my first marriage fee. It
was a mixed marriage, and the groom was a Prot
estant. As he left my room, he passed into my hand
the fee, which I, without looking at it put into my
vest pocket. I thought nothing more of it until bed
time, when my curiosity made me examine the
pocket. I had visions of payment of a small bill
contracted the past month for a case for my books.
My fee was a very beautiful button such as is
usually found on the waist band of trousers. I was
about to throw it out the window but economy sug
gested it might serve a good purpose. It did, for
I sewed it on in place of a lost button and I am
proud to say that neither trouser’s legs sagged at
the bottom. I may, and should, add that on the re
turn home the groom waited on me, and said: “Fath
er, what did I give you as a marriage fee?” I
pulled up my vest and showed him the button, which
seemed to like me, for it was certainly attached to my
trousers.
He was much confused and handed me a five dol
lar gold piece, saying: “I had that in my pocket to
give you, and when we got to Philadelphia and I
found the five dollar gold piece yet in my pocket, I
could not imagine what I had given you.”
There was quite a goodly number of the colored
people in our town, and a colored Baptist Church was
quite near my house. The pastor of the church had
been in the employ of the railroad company and met
with a serious accident which incapacitated him for
work. He devoted some ten or twelve days acquir
ing theological information and then took up the role
of a Baptist minister. His progress in theological
studies was somewhat hampered by the fact that he
could not read. But no doubt his zeal made up for
this. At any rate I believe that the congregation was
perfectly satisfied with the preacher.
He was not entirely dependent on the emoluments
from his sacred calling, for the railroad company had
paid him three thousand dollars and he bought a little
tract of land where he raised—or in some other way,
procured—chickens, and he sold these and vegetables
to the townspeople. His full name, which I think, he
seldom if ever used, was Moses Wesley Calvin Alex
ander. Everyone called him Mose. How Mose, with
such a combination of Methodism and Calvanism
managed to be a Baptist, I could not understand.
But he was a very devoted Baptist. His favorite
and oft repeated argument, which always silenced
all opponents was: “Is you all ever heard all of any
John the Methodist? Is you? But ain’t you hear
tell of John the Baptist? Well, ain’t that enough?”
Moses was rather sensitive about his inability to
write and read, and having a remarkable memory
he had someone read the Bible to him every day, and
his knowledge of texts was remarkable. He could,
and did, quote from the Scriptures, and it was seldom
he made any mistakes.
One Sunday night he was preaching to an im
mense congregation, who filled the church and over
flowed the yard. He came to the desk and then la
boriously commenced a search through his pocket and
finally said: ‘‘I ’clare to God, I done forgot my
speech again. But I’se got the word here,” and at
this he struck his desk a resounding^whack. “I’se
gwine to preach tonight from dat place where the
good Lord done said, ‘Ask and you shall receive, seek
and you’se gwine to find, knock and the door is gwine
to open.’ Now the Lord’s done said that, and it’s
ableeged to be done. If you ask you are sure gwine
to git it.”
Just here someone said: ‘‘Dat ain’t always sure,
cause I’se been asking the Lord for something for a
long time, and I ain’t got it.” Moses looked at him
with supreme disgust and at last said: “Do you
suppose the Lord done said dat about everything
some fool nigger gwine to ask?” There was quite a
round of applause, anct the incident was closed.
Moses went on: “What dat fool nigger done said
puts me in mind of a story, what I’se gwine to tell,
(Continued on Page 11)