August 22, 1739
I have been in the town of Spittlefield for six extremely cold days. The people here are eager to start a church. A gentleman, by the name of Ludloe Harkins, came to my place of residence and offered me a piece of land. He said he was well aware of the need for a church in these parts.
On Monday, an article was drawn wherein he agreed to put give me full ownership of his plot of land, upon payment of two hundred dollars.
"This piece of land I offer is more than sufficient to build a small church!" He said loudly with twitching face.
I signed the contract and Mr. Harkins handed me a wooden box with carvings depicting events from the Book of Judges.
When I opened the box, I discovered inside a square foot of earth, not unlike a slice of birthday cake.
"What is this?" I asked.
"It is the piece of land you just purchased, sir." he whispered, twitching all the more.
"But, sir, you said I would be able to build a church on this ground!"
"Indeed, but I said a SMALL church!"
On my word, next time I shall inquire as to yardage in breadth and in length.
He then ran out the door, slamming it behind him. I heard a loud crack of thunder and upon investigation found only his smoking shoes, less than six feet from the entrance.
We buried his shoes in a used shoe box today in the Spittlefield Cemetery.
My sermon was "Truth or Consequences - The Ananias and Sapphira Story."