"i Can't Stop To Pray."

"A deacon living in a Berkshire town was requested to give his prayers

in behalf of a poor man with a large family who had broken his leg. 'I

can't stop now to pray,' said the deacon (who was picking and barreling

his early apples for the city market), 'but you can go down into the

cellar and get some corned beef, salt pork, potatoes, and butter--that's

the best I can do.'"