throws so much light on his character and his purpose in going to
Milton, that we will insert that in this story, as being necessary to
its full understanding. This is the letter:--

MY DEAR ALFRED:--Two years ago, when we left the Seminary, you remember
we promised each other, in case either of us left his present parish, he
would let the other know at once. I did not suppose, when I came, that I
should leave so soon, but I have just written a letter which means the
beginning of a new life to me. The Calvary Church in Milton has given me
a call, and I have accepted it. Two months ago my church here
practically went out of existence, through a union with the other church
on the street. The history of that movement is too long for me to relate
here, but since it took place I have been preaching as a supply, pending
the final settlement of affairs, and so I was at liberty to accept a
call elsewhere. I must confess the call from Milton was a surprise to
me. I have never been there (you know I do not believe in candidating
for a place), and so I suppose their church committee came up here to
listen to me. Two years ago nothing would have induced me to go to
Milton. Today it seems perfectly clear that the Lord says to me "Go."
You know my natural inclination is toward a quiet, scholarly pastorate.
Well, Milton is, as you know, a noisy, dirty, manufacturing town, full
of working men, cursed with saloons, and black with coal smoke and
unwashed humanity. The church is quite strong in membership. The Year
Book gives it five hundred members last year, and it is composed almost
entirely of the leading families in the place. What I can do in such a
church remains to be seen. My predecessor there, Dr. Brown, was a
profound sermonizer, and generally liked, I believe. He was a man of the
old school, and made no attempt, I understand, to bring the church into
contact with the masses. You will say that such a church is a poor place
in which to attempt a different work. I do not necessarily think so. The