"I might tear my trousers, and," he added in a whisper to the
captain, "they're the best pair I have."

"Might as well be killed for a sheep as a goat," replied the
mariner. "They're spoiled anyhow, by this glue. Better try to pull
loose. Go on. I'll hold your chair down."

Thus advised, the minister sat down. The crowd watched with
anxiety, not unmixed with mirth. Even the clergyman himself could
not help smiling, though it was quite an embarrassing position for a
dignified gentleman.

"Would you mind putting your feet on the rounds on the other side?"
asked the captain of Mr. Henderson. "Between us both I guess we can
hold him down."

The two men bore heavily on the chair-rounds, and Mr. Blackton
strained to rise. There was a pulling, ripping sound, and he
hesitated. Then, feeling that he must get loose no matter what
happened, he gave a mighty tug and was free. But his trousers,
though only slightly torn, were covered with glue.

Now that it was over, and the excitement was beginning to cool down,
the minister began to feel a little natural anger at the perpetrator
of the "Joke." His best trousers were spoiled, and the donation
supper had been thrown into confusion.

"Who did it?" was the question asked on every side.