We've Got A Respect For The Church

We've Got a Respect for the Church.

   An old gentleman from the East, of a clerical aspect, took the stage from Denver south in ante-railroad days. The journey was not altogether a safe one, and he was not reassured by the sight of a number of rifles deposited in the coach, and  asked for what they were. 

   "Perhaps you'll find out before you git to the divide," was the cheering reply. 

   Among the passengers was a particularly (it seemed to him) fierce-looking man, girded with a belt full of revolvers and revolvers, and clearly a road agent or assassin. Some miles out this person, taking out a largo flask, asked :

    "Stranger, do you irrigate?"

    "If you mean drink, sir, I do not."

    "Do you object, stranger, to our irrigating?"

    "No, sir." And they drank accordingly.

    After a further distance had been traversed, the supposed brigand and asked : 

   "Stranger, do you fumigate?"

    "If you mean smoke, sir, I do not."' 

    "Do you object, stranger, to our fumigating?"

   "No, sir." And they proceeded to smoke.

    At the dining place, when our friend came to tender his money, the proprietor said :

    "Your bill's paid."

    "Who paid it?"

    "That man," pointing to the supposed highwayman, who, on being asked if he had not made a mistake, replied: "Not at all. You see, when we saw that you didn't irrigate and didn't fumigate, we knew that you was a parson. And your bills are all right as long as you travel with this crowd. We've got i respect for the church - you bet!" It was no highwayman, but a respectable resident of Denver.

    The increase of crime in South Carolina is attributed by the News and Courier, of Charleston, to whisky and the habit of carrying concealed weapons. A passionate impulse, a crook of the finger, and- death. lt is killing in haste, repenting at leisure. When he who has a weapon in his pocket is excited by whisky, arousing the savage instincts which are found in every breast, his control over himself is gone.

   A story is told by the Lewiston (Me.) Journal of good old Father Sicwall of that State, who, when once asked to lead the devotions of the meeting's in a monthly concert of prayer for the conversion of the world, arose, and, after fumbling in his pocket for a coin, at last brought it out and handed it to the presiding officer of the occasion, saying - as if to himself - "I can't pray till I've given something ."