Struck by a Bus

A man is struck by a bus on a busy street in New York City.
He lies dying on the sidewalk as a crowd of on-lookers
gathersaround. "A priest. Somebody get me a priest!" the man
gasps. A policeman checks the crowd----no priest, no
minister, no man of God of anykind. "A PRIEST, PLEASE!" the
dying man says again. Then out of the crowd steps a little
old man dressed shabbily and of at least eighty years of
age.

"Mr. Policeman," says the man, "I'm not a priest. I'm not
even a Catholic. But for fifty years now I've been living
behind St. Elizabeth's Catholic Church on First Avenue, and
every night I'm listening to the Catholic litany. Maybe I
can be of some comfort to this man."


The policeman agrees and brings the octogenarian over to
where the dying man lay.


He kneels down, leans over the injured man and says slowly
in a solemn voice:"B-4. I-19. N-38. G-54. O-72..."