The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1886-03-20
The Christening.

No, I wont forgive our parson-not down to my
dyin' day.
He'd orter waited minnt; that's what I'll alters
say.
But to christen my boy my baby, with such an
Why, where's the use o. talkin'? tell you he
was to blame.
You see it happened this way: There was father
and uncle ST
An mother, an each one wanted finger in the
Each with a name for baby, as eff hadn't no
voice.
But the more they talked an argied, the more I
stuck to my choice.
"Semanthy"-this was father-"you'd best take
pattern by mother,
| For she named thirteen children 'thout any such
| fuss or bother.
| As soon as she diskiyered that family names was
| too few,
Why she jest fell back the bible, as perfessers
| air bound to do"
'ssemanthy"-this was Reuben-"'most any one
That, bein' as I'm his father, he'd orter be named
| for me-
| You say my names old-fashioned; we'll, I'm old
Fashioned too,
Yet, 'twarn't long ago, nuther, that both of us
suited you."
Then there was Uncle Silas: "Semanthy, tell
ye what
Jest name him. Silas. I'll give him that hundred
acre lot
I'll make out the decd to-morrer-an' then when
I've gone to my rest,
Therel be triae O. money to help him feather
his nest"
But the worst of all was mother. She says SO
meek AN mild:
| 'I'd love to call him lothian, after my Oldest
child;
Ie died on his second birthday. The others are
grown-up men,
But Jotham is still my baby; he has never grown
since then.
lis hair was so soft an curin', eyes as blue as
blue could be,
IN this boy of yours, Semanthy, jest brings him
back to me-"
Veil, it warn't no easy matter to keep on sayin'
No,
An disappointin' every one. Poor Rube he fret
ted so,
When told him the name I'd chosen, that he
fairly made me cry;
For I'd planned to name the darling, Augustus
Percival Guy.
All that was name worth hearin', so 'ristocrat-
ic an grand
Ho-ahighta held up his head then with the proud
est in the land.
But now-WeI 'tisn't no wonder, when look at
that blessed child
An think of the name he's come to- that I can't
be reconcled.
AT last coaxed up Reuben, an Sabbath morn
in came
When took my boy to meetin' to get his Chris
tain name.
Jest as proud as a peacock 1 stood a-waitin'
there;
1 couldn't hardly listen to the readin' nor the
prayer.
For of half dozen babies mine was the finest of
all;
An they had sech common names, too. But pride
must have a fall.
"What will ye call him?" says Parson Brown,
bendin' his head to hear,
Then handed a bit of paper up, with the names
writ full an clear.
But Uncle 81, stead of passin it jest reads it
slow,
With sech wond'rin, puzzled face, as eff he didn't
The child was beginnin' to fdget, an Rube was
gittin red,
So kinder scowled at Uncle 81, and then shook
my head.
"The name?" says Parson Brown again "I'm
feared haven't caught it."
AJee-hoshapbatP says Uncle ST, out loud, before
he thought it.
The parson-hes near sighted-he couldn't un-
derstand,
Though p'inted to the paper in Uncle Silas'
hand.
But that word did the business; an before got
my breath
That boy was named JEHosHAPHAT, felt Almost
like death.
I couldn't keep from cryin' as I hurried down the
aisle,
An fairly hated Widder Green when see her
kinder smile.
I've never, never called him by that name, AN
never WILL
An can't forgive old Parson Brown, though
bear him no ill-wil
-Harper's Magazine.