A HORSEY CLERGYMAN.

Grey River Argus, Volume XIV, Issue 1770, 8 April 1874, Page 3

A HORSEY CLERGYMAN.

He made a capital clergyman ; his racing experience had taught him how to "come at the finish," and consequently his sermons led up to a point of interest towards the end : unlike some divines I have endured, who after exhausting all their real subject matter in the first ten minutes, instead of sending you home with something to chew on, dragged their slow length along, and used, the second half of discourse as a sponge wherewith to erase the impression made by . the first. To be sure the ruling passion would crop out at times ; as for instance, when he summoned up the fiercely impetuous character of the son of flimshi thus: — "Iv Bhort, my friends, Jehu was a man who never could bring his horses in cool ;" or when he chose that text about " many running a race," and descanting on the difficulty of attaining perfection, feared that we should find "some only second in the race for righteousness, many a bad third," and (with great emphasis) " the rest nowhere." One recorded act of his equals the enthusiasm of the patriarch of Alexandra, who left the performance of mass to attend the acconchment of a favorite mare. One day, in the midst of his sermon he suddenly exclaimed, " Good heavens ! he'll stake himself !•' and rushed out to the assistance of his black cob, whom he had observed through the window to have get into difficulties (and a ditch) by attempting to jump a hedge out of his paddock. To do him justice, he returned the moment the cob was extricated, and resuming with great decorum, " Thirdly " (as I was about to say when 1 was called away), concluded his discourse with great fervor. It is said that he once de3ired the prayers of the congregation for a sick person dangerously Si ; which " person" proved, on inquiry, lo be the cob aforesaid, who at the time was suffering from inflammation of the lungs, and who was to him as the apple of his eye. But this I do not believe. — From "Tom Treherne's Tandem." in Temple Bar.

A correspondent, writing from a New Jersey camp-meeting, tells the following : — " Many people sleep in the same tent here, being separated by a partition. A young fellow from Camden had become quite interested in a pretty daughter of a religious farmer. Last night, while a dozen of cold-hearted fellows were trying to sleep, they heard him say, in a low, sweet voice, ' Now, Caroline, dear, let me seal the vow, do !' ' No, James, I cannot. What would my father and mother say?' ' But, Caroline, you have promised to be mme — now let us seal the vow — let us, do let vs — won't you ? Do kiss me !' ' No, James, I cannot, oh ! I cannot — ' In a momeni the tent partition parted, and a big-whiskered brother, who wanted sleep, shouted, 'For God's sake, Carrie, let him seal that vow. He'll keep us awake all night if you don't. The vow was sealed."