and friendship, and sympathy were severed? You do not think that the
whole church spoke through that letter? Bless you, no. Even Mrs. Dr.
Matthews cried about it, and said it was a perfect shame, and _she_
didn't know what the officers meant. For her part, she thought they
would never have such another pastor as Dr. Selmser. And I may as
well tell you, in passing, that she did what she could to cripple the
usefulness of the next one by comparing him day and night, in season
and out of season, with "dear Dr. Selmser." There are worse people in
the world than Mrs. Dr. Matthews.

Did he stay all winter and look about him and decide what to do? You
know better than that. He sent his resignation in the very next
Sabbath; and some of those letter-writers were hurt, and thought he
had more Christian principle than that; and thought that ministers,
of all men, should not be so hasty in their acts. It showed a bad
spirit.

_They_ went home after that--Dr. Selmser and his wife--to _her_
mother's home. So many people have _her_ mother's home to go to.
Blessed mothers! He was so glad to get to her. He needed change and
rest, and the letter-writers had spoken truthfully. Did he take cold
in packing and travelling? Was he overworked? Were the seeds of the
disease running riot in his system during that early fall? Were they
helped along any by that letter? Who shall tell? We know this much:
he took to his bed, and he was no longer pale or quiet; the flush of
fever and the unrest of delirium were upon him. He rolled and tossed
and muttered; and it was always of his work, of his cares, of his
responsibilities--never of _rest_; and yet rest was coming to him on
swift wing. The Lord of the vineyard knoweth when his reapers have
need of soft, cool days of glory, to follow weeks of service.