What do you suppose he did?
He telegraphed back to me as follows: "All right. We have advertised you
for Sunday. Subject, 'What the d---- do you take me for.'" You can judge
something of my surprise and indignation.
That is how it was.
RELIGION AND FISH.
Newspaper reports of the proceedings of the Sunday School Association
encamped on Lake Monona, at Madison, give about as many particulars of big
catches of fish as of sinners. The delegates divide their time catching
sinners on spoon-hooks and bringing pickerel to repentance. Some of the
good men hurry up their prayers, and while the "Amen" is leaving their
lips they snatch a fish-pole in one hand and a baking-powder box full of
angle worms in the other, and light out for the Beautiful Beyond, where
the rock bass turn up sideways, and the wicked cease from troubling.
Discussions on how to bring up children in the the way they should go are
broken into by a deacon with his nose peeled coining up the bank with a
string of perch in one hand, a broken fish-pole in the other, and a pair
of dropsical pantaloons dripping dirty water into his shoes.
It is said to be a beautiful sight to see a truly good man offering up
supplications from under a wide-brimmed fishing hat, and as he talks of
the worm that never, or hardly ever dies, red angle worms that have dug
out of the piece of paper in which they were rolled up are crawling out of
his vest pocket.
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