A ROMISH priest in Ireland one day met a little boy coming across a field from the parish school, with a Bible in his hand: “Do you go to that place?” said the priest pointing to the Protestant school.
“Yes, your reverence,” replied the boy.
“I thought so,” said the priest, “by the book that is in your hand. It is a bad book; give it to me.”
“That book is God’s word,” said the boy, “and it teaches us the way to love God, to be good, and to get to heaven when we die.”
“Come home with me,” said the priest.
The boy did so, and, on entering his study, the priest took the poor boy’s Bible and threw it on the fire.
“You shall never read that book again,” said the priest; “it is a bad book; and mind I shall not suffer you to go to that school again.”
The Bible was soon in flames, and the poor boy at first looked very sad; but as the priest grew more and more angry, and told him there was an end of it all now, the boy began to smile.
“Why do you laugh?” asked the priest.
“I can’t help it,” said the boy.
“I insist upon you telling me why you laugh,” said the priest.
“I can’t help laughing,” replied the boy; “for I was thinking your reverence couldn’t burn those ten chapters I’ve got by heart.”