CLERIC'S HUMOUR.

Franklin Times, Volume 14, Issue 189, 27 April 1925, Page 7

CLERIC'S HUMOUR.

(By A. Watson, D.D.)

SOME AMUSING ANECDOTES.

Extremely pious people think out of place that a clergyman should indulge in humour. The profession dresses like an undertaker, and is expected to wear an equally solemn mien. So it comes about that some clergymen lay a measure of restraint upon themselves, pass a 'self-denying ordinance which is to hold good for seven days in every week, and give them the air of grave and reverend persons. Holmes said he never wrote half as funny as he could, and it is quite certain that the twentieth century person totally disagrees with the idea that humour is unbecoming in one who holds a cure of souls. If people but knew what goes on in clerical circles they would realise that parsons are very human —and all the better for it. Nor must it be imagined that their outbreaks are merely by way of rebound. It is too habitual and too natural. The Dean of St. Paul’s is credited with being so morose and pessimistic that he earned within recent years the nickname of “the gloomy dean.” The title is quite inappropriate. In a sermon preached quite recently he took occasion to refer to the Quaker doctrine of the inner light, the idea of relying upon direct revelation from heaven. Illustrating his point, the Dean said he had heard of a good lady who declared that the existence of such a place as Jerusalem had never yet been revealed to her. How could she believe there was any such city?

Convulsed the Company The present Bishop of London is credited with a story which shows a broader sense of humour. At a public meeting (it could not possibly have been fh a sermon) he convulsed the company by telling them of a good lady who fell out of a five-storey window and was killed. A friend of hers who lived on the second storey was asked by a religious neighbour if she thought the unfortunate lady was prepared for her sudden death. "Oh, yes," was the answer, "because as she passed my window I heard her saying, 'now for a bump!' It should be added that the bishop has probably expressed some manner of regret for ever telling the story, but it is so good that we hope his conscience. will trouble him on further.

Dr. Creighton, another bishop, and who as a school master was described by his pupils as a beast, but a just beast, had in later days the reputation of being honest to the point of gruffness and with a holy terror of canting talk. At dinner one day a lady next to him felt it her duty to introduce some pious conversation and entertained the bishop with the story of an aunt of hers who had missed a steamer, and the steamer was wrecked and all on board perished. Was not that a providence? All the consolation she received was, "Don't know. Can't say. Didn't know your aunt." The humour was alike grim and unmistakable. Spurgeon, the last of the Puritans, was one of the jolliest of men, as his lectures and other writings amply prove. On one occasion a friend of his who was retiring from business told Spurgeon he was building a house in the country and did not know what name to give it. "Call it Dunrobin," was the swift suggestion. A quite unconscious stroke of humour, a mere accident, was connected with an interesting domestic incident. Twins were born to Spurgeon, and on the following Sunday he gave out in .church a hymn in which the lines occur: "Not more than others I deserve, but Thou has given me more." The congregation greatly "tasted" the joke, and so no doubt did the famous preacher.

Principal Gaircl, the most eloquent preacher of last century in Scotland, with the exception, perhaps, of Dr. Chalmers, was on one occasion visiting his friend Robertson, of Irvine. As the two men were walking- down the street Robertson stopped to talk to a country woman with a basket of butter on her arm. Caird asked him when he came back if that was one of the pillars of his church. "Not a pillar," was the answer, '"but a flying buttress." Whereat the sombre philosopher laughed most heartily.

King of Humorists. Nobody can refer to Scottish church life without mentioning lan Maclaren, prince of the storytellers and king of humorists. It was his custom to meet with other clerics on a Monday, and on one occasion the arrangement was that each was to tell a story. One of the company said he had had a dream, but did not like to tell it because it was against Maclaren. The victim was most insistent that the dream should be told, and told it was. "I dreamt that we were all commanded to climb a long stair case on our knees and write with chalk on each step some sin of which we had been guilty. I was painfully climbing step by step, when suddenly, loolring up, I saw Maclaren coming down. I asked him in surprise what he was going down for, and with a woeful countenance he answered, 'More chalk ' " No one enjoyed the joke more than Maclaren, and in many a social circle he told it again. Sir Walter Scott tells a Teviotdate story illustrating the ancient custom of placing- a Bible and a bottle of ale in the guest's bedroom. Seven ministers were on one occasion allotted a very large room, and the butler put seven Bibles and seven bottles of ale in the room. After a little time the butler was recalled, and one of the older ministers told him one Bible would do because the youngest minister would read the lesson for the company. Would the butler therefore take away six Bibles and in their place bring six more bottles of ale." The story sounds creditable except for the nature of the liquid refreshment. If seven Scotch ministers were thus thrown together there is at least one point on which unanimity might be expected of them. Being Scotch, they would be patriotic, and being patriotoic they certainly would enthusiastically drink Scotch.

Post-honeymoon texts are on re-

cord, the choicest being: "There shall be peace so long as the moon endurcth,' 'and "Oh, wretched man that I am."' Perhaps it was the preacher from the latter passage who also gave out the hymn, "Deluded souls that dream of heaven." Was this humour or the lack of It?