The Marblehead Divine and the Fierce Bull

1895

An uncomfortable experience which befell Parson Bartlett, a Unitarian minister, some years ago, used to be related by his clerical brethren with a good deal of glee. The parson had been invited to exchange pulpits with a clergyman in Salem, and it being a delightful Sunday in the spring the parson walked across the fields from his home in Marblehead, starting early enough in the morning to be on time when the hour for service arrived. The congregation assembled at the usual time, but no minister appeared. Minutes passed into a half hour, and from that into an hour, and it began to be apparent that there would be no services that morning. Just as the congregation was about to disperse the parson arrived. He was covered with mud from head to feet. His coat was torn, his hat battered, and a telltale streak on his shirt front exposed his darling vice of chewing tobacco.

An explanation was in order and was given. While the parson was sauntering leisurely along, enjoying the bracing morning air and the picturesque views, thinking now and then of the points in his sermon, he heard a bellowing behind him, and, looking around, saw a belligerent bull, with his nostrils dilated and his tail in the air, rushing directly for him. The parson ran for a wall near by and jumped into the next field. But the bull was not to be eluded in that way. He was over as soon as his clerical victim. The parson jumped over the wall again into the field he had left, but The bull was there before he was. In this way they kept up the jumping and running, first over one wall, then over another, until by scaling a fence the parson reached the open road. The bull was thus brought to a standstill and ran off snorting defiance. Parson Bartlett, exhausted with his unwonted exertion, bruised and sore in every limb, made his way as best he could to Salem. — Boston Globe.