MIXED BIBLE TEXTS WITH GAMBLING PHRASES

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1628, 13 May 1903, Page 73 (Supplement)

MIXED BIBLE TEXTS WITH GAMBLING PHRASES

During a recent church conference in one of the southern States of America, a clergyman said the other day, one of the lay brethren threw a tableful of people into confusion bv getting his secular amusements mixed up with Bible texts. The hotel in town where the conference was held proved inadequate for the crowd of delegates, and they were’ received as guests at the dwellings of the church members. Our friend, the lay brother —whom 4 shall call Mr Jones —was senfc to the house, of the local clergyman. When he came down to breakfast the next morning, the family, consisting of a dozen people, had already gone to the dining-room. “We do not ask a blessing here/-’ the host whispered. “Instead, each of iis in succession repeats a verse from the Bible."

Mr Jones was seated on the host’s left hand, and he thought he would be the first called on for a verse. This, flustered him. Rack his brains as he would, he could not think of a quotation, chiefly because it was expected of him on short notice. The host began by repeating one of the Proverbs. Then came a momentary silence.. Mr Jones, tongue-tied, broke into a cold sweat. The woman on his host’s right repeated her verse, and Mr .Jones, with a si"h of relief, realised that the verses were being spoken around the table the other way, and that he would be called on the last, instead of first.

This gave him time to get his wits together, and he hit oh the Scriptural quotation, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall, see God."

Nearer and nearer came the moment for Mr Jones to speak. The woman three seats away was repeating her selection. . “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall sep God/' whispered Mr Jones. The man two seats away was speaking. Again Mr Tones repeated his text, resolved not to blander. Then the woman next to Mr Jones said: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” She had repeated Mr Jones's text. His backbone melted to the consistency of his oatmeal. He coughed, he fumbled, he looked reproachfully at the woman who had forestalled him.. “Mr Jones, your turn,” whispered his host. ..

“IF My turn? Oh, certainly!” gasped Mr Jones. “Well, I pass!"