During the session a most amusing incident took place. A colored brother by the name of Waldo came to me at the noon hour on Thursday, and asked me to marry him that evening at eight o’clock. I said, “Waldo, I cannot grant your request. We have an evening session of conference, and I must be there. However, if you will put it off till nine o’clock, I will be on hand.” But to such an arrangement he would not agree. The long-looked-for moment could not be delayed. Eight o’clock was the hour about which clustered the sweetest anticipations of his life. The goal toward which he had striven must be reached and won on schedule time. So, with a twinkle of the eye, characteristic of the negro, he exclaimed: “Good Lawd! the thing’s gone too fah now; no putting it off.” Of course I had to arrange for another secretary under circumstances so vitally essential to the brother’s happiness and welfare. The reason why he chose me to perform the ceremony, he said, was because I had converted him eight years before. CHAPTER V. The third year on the district brought the usual routine of duties and hardships. By the help of Brother John Dodds, who gave me fifty dollars, I was enabled to purchase a horse and buggy, paying $125 for the entire outfit. This arrangement relieved me of much walking. The horses and mules occasionally used during the previous years were borrowed or hired. My muleback riding, however, was suddenly broken off by a rather painful incident which occurred one night. Striking a bit of good road, I spurred the animal into a gallop, but something happened; its forelegs seemed to give way, and it turned a complete somersault. With my arms extended, I went on, like a flying-machine, several feet before I struck the ground. The fall nearly killed me. I rolled about in agony for a while before I thought of the mule, but when I was able to get up I observed the treacherous beast leisurely eating grass in the fence corner near by, as if nothing had happened. I never liked a mule after that, and, to the best of my knowledge, have not been on one since. I never thought it out of place to have a little innocent fun once in a while. “Laugh and grow fat,” is an old adage which has more in it than some people suppose. A long, wry face is a poor sign of piety. To assume a look of seriousness, as though religion were made up of clouds and shadows and disappointments, is a false representation of the Christian life. If any person on earth has a right to be cheerful and to smile all over his face, it is the one who honestly endeavors to serve God, and has his eyes throneward all the while. Yes— “A little nonsense now and then Is relished by the wisest men.” Certainly, then, there is nothing wrong in those not so wise enjoying it.