The Republican journal., 1886-03-25
The Christening.



No, | 'front.' forgive our parson-not down to
my dyin' day.
He'd orter waited a mint; that's what I'll
alters say.
But to christen my boy, my baby, with such an
orful name
Why, where's the use O. takin'? / tell you he
acds to blame.
You see it happened in this way: There was
father an Uncle ST,
An mother, an each one wantin' finger in
the pie
Each with name for the baby, as eff / hadn't
no voice.
But the more they talked an argied, the more
| 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 discovered that family names
was too few,
Why. she jest fell back on the Bible, as per-
fessors air bound to do
"Semanthy'-this was Reuben-''most any one
else could see
That bein' as Pm his father. he'd orter be
named for me.
You say that my names old-fashioned; well.
I'm old-fashoned too.
Yet 'twarn't long ago, nuther, that both of
us suited y0U."
Then there was Uncle Silas: "Semanthy, l
jest name him Silas. I'll give him that hundred
acre lot
I'll make out the deed to morrer-an' then
when Eve gone to my rest,
There'll be a trile o money to help him feather
his nest"
But the worst of all. was mother. She says,
SO meek an mild:
"Td love to call him lothian, after my oldest
child;
He died on his second birthday. The others
are grown up men.
But lothian is still my baby; he has never
grown since then.
His hair was soft AN curlin', eyes blue as
blue could be,
An this boy o yours, Semanthy, jest brings
him back to me-
Well, it warn't no easy matter to keep on sayin'
No.
An disappintin' every one. Poor Rube, he
frettcd 50.
When / told him the name I'd chosen. that he
fairly made me cry;
For id planned to name the darling, Augustus
Percival Guy.
All. that was name worth hearin', so 'risto-
cratic and grand!
He might IA held up his head then with the
proudest in the land.
But nor Well 'tiSn't no wonder, when
look at that blessed child
An think of the name he's come to, that
can't be rec0nced.
At last | coaXed up Reuben, an Sabbath
mornin' came
When | took my boy to meetin' to get his
Christian name.
Jest as proud as a peacock ! stood a-waitin
there;
| 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 mines. TOO. But
pride must have fall.
What will ye call him. says Parson Brown.
bendn' his head to hear.
Then | handed hit of paper up. with the
names writ full and clear.
But Uncle 81, stead of pasSin' it. Jest reads it
over slow,
With sech a wond'rin', puzzled face, as eff he
didn't know.
The child was beginnin' to tidget, an Ruhe
was gittin' red,
So | kinder scowled at Cncle 81, and then |
shook my head.
The name:' says Parson Brown, agin; I'm
'feard haven't caught it,.
''Jee-hOSh0Dh0t" says ncle 81, out loud, be-
fore he thought it.
The parson-he's near-Sig hted-he couldn't
understand
Though | p'inted to the paper in Uncle Sila>'
hand.
But that word did the business; an before |
got my breath,
That boy was named JEHosHAPHAT. l felt
Almost like death.
l couldn't keep from cryin' as l hurried down
the aisle.
An / fairly hated Wilder Green when | see
her kinder smile.
I've never, merer called him by that name, an
never will.
An / emit forgive old Parson Brown, thong h
! bear him no ill-wil.
[IIarners Magazine.