All work and no plagiarism makes a dull parson.

Bishop Doane of Albany was at one time rector of an Episcopal church in Hartford, and Mark Twain, who occasionally attended his services, played a joke upon him, one Sunday.

“Dr. Doane,” he said at the end of the service, “I enjoyed your sermon this morning.  I welcomed it like on old friend.  I have, you know, a book at home containing every word of it.”

“You have not,” said Dr. Doane.

“I have so.”

“Well, send that book to me.  I’d like to see it.”

“I’ll send it,” the humorist replied.  Next morning he sent an unabridged dictionary to the rector.

The four-year-old daughter of a clergyman was ailing one night and was put to bed early.  As her mother was about to leave her she called her back.

“Mamma,” she said, “I want to see my papa.”

“No, dear,” her mother replied, “your papa is busy and must not be disturbed.”

“But, mamma,” the child persisted, “I want to see my papa.”

As before, the mother replied:  “No, your papa must not be disturbed.”

But the little one came back with a clincher: 

“Mamma,” she declared solemnly, “I am a sick woman, and I want to see my minister.”

PROFESSOR—­“Now, Mr. Jones, assuming you were called to attend a patient who had swallowed a coin, what would be your method of procedure?”

YOUNG MEDICO—­“I’d send for a preacher, sir.  They’ll get money out of anyone.”

Archbishop Ryan was once accosted on the streets of Baltimore by a man who knew the archbishop’s face, but could not quite place it.

“Now, where in hell have I seen you?” he asked perplexedly.

“From where in hell do you come, sir?”

A Duluth pastor makes it a point to welcome any strangers cordially, and one evening, after the completion of the service, he hurried down the aisle to station himself at the door.

He noticed a Swedish girl, evidently a servant, so he welcomed her to the church, and expressed the hope that she would be a regular attendant.  Finally he said if she would be at home some evening during the week he would call.

“T’ank you,” she murmured bashfully, “but ay have a fella.”

A minister of a fashionable church in Newark had always left the greeting of strangers to be attended to by the ushers, until he read the newspaper articles in reference to the matter.

“Suppose a reporter should visit our church?” said his wife.

“Wouldn’t it be awful?”

“It would,” the minister admitted.

The following Sunday evening he noticed a plainly dressed woman in one of the free pews.  She sat alone and was clearly not a member of the flock.  After the benediction the minister hastened and intercepted her at the door.

“How do you do?” he said, offering his hand, “I am very glad to have you with us.”