An Episcopal clergyman passing his vacation in Indiana met an old farmer
who declared that he was a "'Piscopal."
"To what parish do you belong?" asked the clergyman.
"Don't know nawthin' 'bout enny parish," was the answer.
"Well, then," continued the clergyman, "what diocese do you belong to?"
"They ain't nawthin' like that 'round here," said the farmer.
"Who confirmed you, then?" was the next question.
"Nobody," answered the farmer.
"Then how are you an Episcopalian?" asked the clergyman.
"Well," was the reply, "you see it's this way: Last winter I went down
to Arkansas visitin', and while I was there I went to church, and it was
called 'Piscopal, and I he'rd them say 'that they left undone the things
what they'd oughter done and they had done some things what they oughten
done,' and I says to myself, says I: 'That's my fix exac'ly, and ever since
I considered myself a 'Piscopalian."
The clergyman shook the old fellow's hand, and laughingly said:
"Now I understand, my friend, why the membership of our church is so
large."