We bumped along for another couple of blocks, and the streetcar stopped again. ‘Washington!’ the streetcar conductor called out. And would you believe it, Washington got up and got off the streetcar. That conductor knew everyone on his streetcar and where they were to get off. Those streetcar conductors are pretty smart fellows.”

“A little farther, the streetcar stopped again. ‘Jackson!’ he called out. Now my name is Jackson, so I got up and got off that streetcar. Then I remembered the pocketbook. I opened it and began to count the money. ‘One dollar, two dollars, three dollars...’ Just then, a man came up to me. He said to me, ‘Excuse me, but I am looking for Jackson.’”

“This is Jackson, I said proudly.” “I am looking for sixteen fifty-three,” the stranger said. “Mister, here is your money,” I said and gave him the pocketbook. The streetcar conductors are pretty smart fellows.” The story left the gang in stitches. “Mister, who are you, anyway?,” one of them called out. “I’m the youth pastor at the Foster Park Baptist Church,” Bill replied. “Take my card and see me at my place some time.” “Maybe,” the leader replied. Now no one was standing between Bill and his car, so he opened the door, waved to the gang, and drove off. The next day, he discovered that just before his meeting, the gang had stolen a policeman’s Billy club and roughed him up considerably. Humour, I’ve said since then, can be a life saver. — Beliefnet.com (Concluded)