HUMOUR IN IRISH PULPITS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXII, Issue 46, 23 February 1901, Page 3 (Supplement)

HUMOUR IN IRISH PULPITS.

In a remote country village, far from the madding crowd, German speculative theories, with which he was more familiar thnn geography, would have seemed nbout the last thing likely to influence his flock, 'but he wns ever haunted by an awful fear of the havoc that might be wrought amongst them by such pernicious doctrines If they were not duly warned. "My britheren," he said on one occasion, "there are some German philosophers that say there is no Resurrection, and, me britheren, it would have been better for (him German philosophers if, like Judas Iseariot, they hail never been born." And this recalls to my mind, says a writer In the "ConibJll Magazine," another discourse, where the preacher wound up with the comforting assurance that if we paid due attention to the instruction we had just received from him we would "all return to our several homes like babes refreshed with r.ew-iuade wine." It was on another occasion that the same speaker, having ascended the pulpit, gave out his text with all due solemnity as follows:—".My text Is taken from the thirtysixth chapter of Genesis, and the second verse: 'And Ksau took his wives of the daughters of Canaan'—or, rather, I should say, the twenty-seventh chapter and the thirty-eighth verse: 'liless me, even me, also, O my father.1 " And then, as one of his hearers aptly remarked, he proceeded to preach a sermon which had nothing to say to either of them. Absent-mindedness and a weakness for metaphor are no doubt responsible for much. To the former I credit a discourse In which the reverend preacher alluded to "Goliath fighting on behalf of the Israelites, while King Solomon sat by moodily iv his tent," mid to the latter striking simile, which deeply impressed the feminine portion of the congregation, who were tola that "the grave was the groat wardrobe of the world, where we are folded up and put by, to be taken out new at the IlesiuTcetlon." But both of these are eclipsed by an eloquent speaker who, in the course of an extempore address, had wandered into mediaeval history. "And that hnythen Soliman," he said, "whin he was lyin' dead upon the ground, sal up an' said to his friends, "Behold, you now see the end of Soliman.' " I do not deny that there may occasionally be a want of comprehension on the part of the audieuce. "What was the sermon about to-day, Mary?" Inquired a mistress of her domestic. "Please, mm," said Mary, twisting the corner of her apron, "I've forgotten the text, but it was about young men." "Oh, really," said the lady; "and what else was it about?" "Please, mm, it was about young womeu too." "But can you tell me anything Mr 13. said?" "I couldn't repeat It, exactly, mm, for it was a mixedup kind of sermon; but it was very interesting," added the maiden. But any attempt to fathom the mind of a congregation is usually fraught witti danger. A priest who had delivered what seemed to him a striking sermon was auxious to ascertain its effect on his flock. "Was the sermon to-day to y'r likin", Pat?" he inquired of one of them. "Troth, y'r rivcrence, it was a grand sermon iutiroly," said Pat, with such genuine admiration that his reverence felt moved to investigate further. "Was there any one part of It more than another that seemed to take hold of ye?" he inquired. "Well, now, as ye are for axin' me, begorra, I'll tell ye. What tuk hoult of me moot was y'r riveronce's parseveranco—the way ye wint over the same thing agin and agin and agiu. Sleh parseverance I niver did see in army man, before nor since."

One sample more and I have finished, for I cannot do better than bring my article to an end with the concluding words of a sermon on grace. "And, mo britheren, if ye have In y'r hearts wan spark of heavenly grace, wather It, wather it continual Jy."