Just as I took my
place in the pulpit, Captain Sears entered the church
and walked down the aisle--the Captain Sears who
had left us at my invitation some weeks before
and had not since attended a church service. I was
sure he was there to make another attack on me
while I was down, and, expecting the worst, I
wearily gave him his opportunity. The big old fel-
low stood up, braced himself on legs far apart, as
if he were standing on a slippery deck during a high
sea, and gave the congregation its biggest surprise
of the year.
He said he had come to make a confession. He
had been angry with ``the gal'' in the past, as they
all knew. But he had heard about the sermon she
had preached that morning, and this time she was
right. It was high time quarreling and backbiting
were stopped. They had been going on too long,
and no good could come of them. Moreover, in
all the years he had been a member of that congre-
gation he had never until now seen the pulpit oc-
cupied by a minister with enough backbone to up-
hold the discipline of the church. ``I've come here
to say I'm with the gal,'' he ended. ``Put me down
for my original subscription and ten dollars extra!''
So we had the old man back again. He was a
tower of strength, and he stood by me faithfully
until he died. The trustees would not accept my
resignation (indeed, they refused to consider it at all),
and the congregation, when it had thought things
over, apparently decided that there might be worse
things in the pulpit than ``the gal.
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