Even our minister, Pastor Wallace Nice, would join us in the old country store whenever it was possible and he was telling us a story about a trip he had taken the week before. He said he had finished his sermon and had to make a fairly long trip to the daughter of parishioner who had given birth to a mean baby and was having a hard time getting back on her feet.

He had traveled about twelve miles when he was stricken by old demon thirst.The longer he drove the more he thought about his dilemma and eventually he had to find some place to get a drink. He looked off to the side of the road and spotted a farmhouse with a well outside. He drove up into the yard and as he approached the well the woman that owned the farm walked out to greet him. He explained to her his need for a drink of water and she politely told him to help himself. The pastor lowered the bucket into the deep cool well and withdrew about half a bucket full of cool liquid pleasure.

The only thing there to drink from was an old, funny shaped, gourd. The minister dunked the gourd into the water and as he withdrew it he looked at his host. She was an old farmer�s wife and one of the many that enjoyed smoking a corncob pipe, using snuff, or chewing tobacco. She saw him looking at her and gave him one of her biggest toothless, grins. When she did she drooled a brown juice that ran out the corner of her mouth and half way down her chin. The minister was in a pickle. He didn�t know which side of the gourd she drank from and he didn�t want to offend her when she was trying to be kind. He looked at the gourd and for the first time saw the answer to his problem. The handle of the gourd was hollow so he tipped up the gourd and drank through it. The old lady looked and smiled even more radiantly as she said,

   �Glory be, Pastor, you�re the only person I know that drinks through the handle the same as me.�