One day he came
in with something that was not lamb, nor veal, nor fowl. Now, what do
you think it was? _Blow my eyes if it wasn't a Methodist parson!_
'The parson was a meek-lookeen man, with a white bow under his
throat; and his name was Mr. Jonas.
'"What in thunder did you bring that Sky-pilot here for?" the
capteen asked in his most angry tones; while ould missus run a
ecreecheen to the cavern.
'"I have good reason, I assure you, capteen, for the capture," was
the reply. "Give the man of God sometheen to eat. He must pray for us
this eveneen. It'll be as good as a circus to listen to him. It's
been so long since we had divine service in here."
'Ah, young man, but it was good fun to hear that parson pray and
preach that night. The very
'Aisles of the dim-wood rang to the anthem'
that he raised; and I am sure he thought that he had carried our
hearts by storm. He prayed God to soften our obdurate hearts; and
especially asked heaven to cause these misguided men to relent in
their intensheens, and permit him to go and carry the refresheen rain
of the Gospel to thirsty ground. After the prayer was ended I showed
him his couch, the same whereon you slept last night, and before I
said good night I asked him to pray for me.
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