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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)