MUSINGS and MEDITATIONS

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIX, Issue 8, 24 August 1907, Page 26

MUSINGS and MEDITATIONS

By

Dog Toby

CLERICAL HUMORISTS.

/'ll SENSE of humour is almost a net 0 icsaity to a clergyman, but it is 1 Q to be feared that the race of > JI. clerical humorists is dying out. It is necessary, because true humour comes from a sense of proportion, and a quick and ready sympathy; humour and pathos are ever allied. But Canon Ainger and Dean Hole seem to have left no true successors, perhaps because the tendency of modern church life is against a sense of proportion. To use Dean Liddell’s quaint phrase, too many parsons bring out the garden roller to erush a snail. Canon Ainger had a very ready wit. I asked him once if he saw much of one of his brother Canons. “1 often meet him,” he replied, “but as 1 am very short-sighted, and he only has one eye, I am afraid we don't see much of each other.” On one occasion he told his Archdeacon that a very wealthy man had contributed £5 to a certain mission. ’Only five,” exclaimed the Archdeacon, "a man of his wealth ought to give £50.” “Well,” replied the Canon, “I suppose he forgot the ought.” 1 mentioned to him once that an enormously stout man had boasted that he had a very old family tree, and all the family had been stout, on which he suggested that perhaps the man measured the age of the tree by its girth. His keen humour turned aside the many attacks that were levelled at him. A sermon of his was onee very strongly criticised, as being too high, or too low. or too broad, or too something—--1 really forget what—and he remarked that what his critics really- objected to was St. Paul’s teaching, but they were top. late to.be able to attack St. Paul, so they had pitched on him instead. It reminded him. he said, of a man who had been flicked on the head with a whip by an omnibus driver. The man was unable to retaliate on the driver, but he ran after the ’bus and pinched the conductor’s leg. A clerical friend of mine told me that he eould never get along at all if it were, not for. the relief afforded by quaint, incidents in'liis parish visiting. An old lady told him the trouble she had with . her boarders, whom she described as being very fussy and particular over their food. “All except Mr .Jones,” she added, “and he always behaves like a perfect gentleman. He eats whatever I like to cook for him, and he never asks any questions or makes a fuss like the others. He’s ill in bed now, poor fellow.” On another occasion one of his parishioners, who conducted an hotel, sent for him to call,-'as she was trouble. He found her very much uphet over the new regulations for Sunday elosing, amt the of that mysterious personage, the bona-fide traveller. Slip evidently expected the parson worjkl be synqiathetic. and he rather failed to see why he should Is- expected to feel any very great concern about the matter. “Well, sir." she explained, “1 made sure you would f<el for us, because, as-'you knew, hotelkepeers are not the. only people who depend on their" Sunday business lor a living. A very witty remark was made ,l>y a Cjjtain country viear, whose parish <ul- - that of his Archdeaism. The A&li<feje<.n rejoieeti in the name of England, and was an exceedingly good fellow.Tnft a trifle lazy. He. was very fond of taking Atnoliday. and asking the neigldmunng clergy to look after his Sunday work. Nutni.dl y his nearest neighbour wan the oiir.iuM often request***!. 44m! aftei thin good Tina n had ollitiatvd for three micc« ssive- weeks, he remarked with a penBive «qab, “England expret* every man to do ro£jiuty.*’ A vicar once rntrrtainin&*hi« bishop at 4inn<i had wide dish of Whitebait

as an especial delicacy. To his great dismay the bishop happened to mention just before dinner that he eould not endure the sight of whitebait, and he could not imagine how people could eat it. The cleric did not want to deny himself the pleasure of his favourite dish, and he also did not want to appear in any way rude to his guest by seeming to neglect his tastes. He got out of it by remarking when the fish in due course made its appearance: “Here is my whitebait, and I fear, my lord, your bete noire.” The following story will probably appeal to many occupants of the pew. A certain eanon sent his boy to the school attached to the cathedral. On one occasion his son came into his study while he was preparing his sermon, and asked his parent in rather tearful tones how long he was going to preach for. “Oh,” said his father, “I suppose from twenty minutes to half an hour.” “Please don’t make it more than 20 minutes,” pleaded the youngster, “because the other boys say they will give me a good licking it you do.” “All right, my lad,” answered the indulgent papa; “I will cut it down to a quarter of an hour to be on the safe side. But I only wish some of my brother canons would send their sons to your school.” There is something to be said, after* all, in favour of a married clergy.