“And say, cull, do you know de woid dat Dingo sends back to me? “HE SENDS ME WOID HE AIN’T IN.” § 49 Maybe Not on the Second Day, Either For his topic that Sabbath morning the reverend father chose the Judgment. He painted a shining picture of the scene which would be presented on the Last Day, when all the race of mankind, the quick and the dead, the old and the young, from Adam to the newest born babe, assembled before the throne of the Almighty to be judged according to their deeds done in the flesh. When the service was over an elderly Irishman tarried after the rest of the congregation had departed. He halted the priest as the latter was leaving. “Your Riverince,” he said, “I want to ask you a question or two, if you please. I followed your sermon close this mornin’, but still I don’t know if I got your meanin’ quite clear.” “I rather thought my language was sufficiently plain for any understanding,” said the clergyman. “Oh, it was plain, and most beautiful besides,” said the parishioner. “But, Father, what I want to know is this: Do you mane to say thot on the Last Day whin Gabriel’s Trumpet blows iverybody thot iver lived in this world will be gathered togither at the wan place and the wan time?” “That is my conception of the meaning of the Scriptures and the Gospels,” said the priest. “Do you think now, f’rinstance, thot Cain and Abel ’ll be there, side be side?” “Beyond a doubt.” “And thot little fella David and thot big slob Goliath—thim also, you think?” “Surely.” “And Brian Boru and Oliver Cromwell?” “Of course, they will.” “And the _A.P.A._’s and the _A.O.H._’s?” “Naturally.” “Father,” said the parishioner, “there’ll be dom little judgin’ done the first day.” § 50 Calling a Spade a Spade A Christmas entertainment was being planned in a remote Nevada town. The affair was to take place at the church, and the local Sunday school superintendent, a mild and gentle man, with a temperamental Adam’s apple and an aggravated habit of wearing white string ties on week days, had charge. Up until the eleventh hour it looked as though the manager of the show must depend exclusively upon home talent in making up the bill. But late in the afternoon of Christmas eve, as though directed by Providence, a shabby stranger dropped off a passing freight train carrying a slender instrument case under his arm. He sought out the superintendent, introduced himself—modestly—as a distinguished musician on tour and volunteered to take part in the night’s program. Delighted at having enlisted a visiting star from out of the East, the superintendent assigned him the place of honor.