A CHICAGO CLERGYMAN CAUGHT FLIRTING.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 4766, 1 July 1876, Page 3

A CHICAGO CLERGYMAN CAUGHT FLIRTING.

The Chicago Tribune says:—A few days ago a well meaning clergyman on the West Side read in the Tribune an account of the ingenious device of Father McLoughlin, who cured the young female members of bis flock, at Norristown, Penn., of flirting on the street at night with strangers. As some of the parishioners of that ilk are given to coughing when they meet a young man at dusk, and to wearing their handkerchiefs outside their pockets, the worthy clergyman resolved to put into practice the same ingenious device. Accordingly, one night as soon as it grew dark, he arrayed himself in faultless fashionable costume, procured for the occasion, put a geranium in his buttonhole and a cigar in his mouth, and sallied forth. He knew the shady street where the girls most do congregate, and his intention was to engage the boldest of their number in a flirtation, induce her to take a walk witli him, and then, having led her under a lamp-post, to unmask and petrify her with shame, surprise, and awe. Unhappily for the well-meaning clergyman, he had offended a kantankerous and suspicious deacon of his congregation, and this deacon had been “ laying low for him” for some time past. Friday night he happened to be passing by the parsonage just as the preacher came out, and at once recognised him in hie fashionable disguise. “Hello,’ said he to himself, “that’s the parson rigged out fit to kill. Henry Ward ! I wonder what’s afoot. I’ll watch him, dam me if I don’t;” and he stole noiselessly after the well-meaning parson on the other side of the road. He had not proceeded many steps ere he encountered two brothers. These he induced to go with him, telling them he was about to unmask a wolf in minister’s clothing, and that he desired that at the mouth of two or three witnesses it might be established. They followed stealthily, and soon saw a fashionably-attired man in front o: them pass abreast of a group of. three or four young women. “ Hem ! Hem !” floated iu the evening air in a delicate treble cough, answered in a deep bass “ Hem I” from the fashionably-attired man. Then one of the young women giggled and pulled out her handkerchief in an apparently purposeless, but bv no moans purposeless, manner, ■ and the young man did the same thing. Then at any rate the end of it was that the young man selected one of the young women, and walked off with her.

Let ua now return to our hero, the wellmeaning clergyman. Having secured his prey, he was moving towards tho nearest lamppost to petrify her with a disclosure of his identity, when to his surprise a hand was laid on his shoulder, and the voice of Deacon Spigh was heard, “ Brother Whichoker, is this the” conduct of a professing follower?” The unhappy man could offer no explanation, or at least none that did not aggravate the case, while the female partner of his guilt, with a shriek fled into the darkness, dropping her handkerchief, which Deacon Spigh picked up. “ Go,” said he sternly to the preacher, “ take off those filthy rags of unrighteousness, and reflect upon your moral leprosy.” The preacher departed even wishing he were dead, and wondering what method of committing suicide was most expeditious and least painful, when there was a ring at the bell, and Deacon Spigh entered. Judge the good pastor’s surprise when the Deacon, instead of upraiding him, or demanding that he should step down or out, said humbly ; “ Brother Whichoker, we are commanded to forgive an erring brother seventy times seven times. I will not seek to inquire into your motives. If you are innocent you have nothing to fear ; if guilty, your own conscience will upbraid you. As to the unhappy occurrence of this night, let us maintain a policy of silence, grace, mercy, and peace.” The astonished clergyman went upon his neck, and would, if necessary, have mortgaged his house for 5000d01., but the good Deacon said, “We are all mortal,” and took his leave. The good pastor does not yet know the cause of this. The Tribune does. When 'Deacon Spigh got home he happened to look at the handkerchief, and was gratified beyond measure to discover that the name in the corner was that of his only daughter, who has been a professor since she was thirteen, and had a class in the Sunday-school.