A QUEER CONVERT.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2674, 31 August 1889, Page 6 (Supplement)

A QUEER CONVERT.

A contributor to the Australasian tells the following , queer story, as related to liim by nn American divine of great note; "After fulfilling my profp.isitmil engagement in Chicago, 1 etnvcd with him ti fortnight, and a very plonsiint. time it was. Iα the evening, over a citrar ami a irlass of wine or lager bner, lie would tell me quaint stones of his life, or stories that he had hoard. I will repeat one, although it wants his strong vernacular to give it point. "In a small village in Yorkshire, at the junction of a river and a canal, there lived a wicked old bargeman. TLie Wcleyans, Baptists, and Methodists had nil prayed, worried, and striven for the old rascal's conversion, but in vaiu, he was set clown as iacorrigible. One Sunday morning news came to the chapels that Bob had had a call in tho night from the Lord, and he was waiting on the barge for all chapel folks to hasten and assist at his conversion. The news arrived during service, and tho parsons gave forth tho joyful news and called upon their flocks to hasten as soon as the service was over to rejoice over tho lost one saved from the furnace. Baptists, Methodists, and Wesleyans followed their pastors. The barge was found with its nose stuck deep in the shore mud, tho after part afloat. Incorrigible Bob was found dressed in his Sunday clothes, and his matn the same, both with hymn-books in their hands. As the flocks arrived they were received on board by the two, and passed to the after part of the barge. There was a slight dispute as to who should have the first prayer. The Methodists began, then Bob called for a hymn with a good ' Hallelujah ' chorus. This was quickly responded to. Bob's excitement and fervor imparted itself to the whole congregation ; they danced with joy over the converted sinner. Gradually the barge lifted its nose out of the mud, and by the time the hymn was over it was afloat airain, when, to the amazement of all, Bob flung down his book. 'Stop, .stop, the rantin. I'll ha' no more o this o' my barge ; thou'et gotten iny barge out of the mud, now thou mun. all go to the dovil. Skeddadle, or I'll be parson, and baptise tbee all in the river.' They did not wait for Bob to carry out his throat, but ehephords and flocks scrambled off tho bargo, and in future loft the old sinner in hie wickedness,"