The Parson, the Woodpile, and the Five-Dollar Hat

The average man is very apt to consider those who are professedly religious — ministers, for instance — as weaklings or softies. Occasionally this may be so, but those who take it as a cardinal rule will get very much fooled. A case in point occurred lately in Friday Harbor which goes to emphasize this statement.

It seems that the Rev. A. J. McNamee of this place needed some firewood some time ago, so he went up to Driggs' ranche to buy some. There were several large butts lying near and Mr. Driggs said: "Why don't you saw off a couple of these and take them?" "All right," said the reverend gentleman, "I'll saw a couple off tonight."

Driggs looked at the unworkmanlike get-up of the preacher, noted his spectacles and the worn expression of the earnest face that had been planted there by the struggle of conducting a church in a frontier community. Then he glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly five o'clock and that it would be a hard job for a hearty laboring man to cut those two butts in four hours, so he said: "If you do, parson, I'll give you the best hat you can buy for five dollars."

"I don't want anything better than that," remarked the reverend gentleman, as he took off his black coat and hung it on a stump. Then the sawdust began to fly. Mr. Driggs watched a little time and then went to supper, thinking that the pace was so great that the parson would soon break down.

When he came back at eight o'clock the butts were sawn in two and Mr. McNamee had disappeared. He sadly murmured, "You never can tell how far a frog can jump until you see him jump." Then he laid a five dollar gold piece on the nearest log and went home.