The stranger smiled as though pleased, looked
around to compare the pew with others, admired
its soft cushion and rich furnishings, and wrote
back, "/ don't blame you it is well worth it."
The pompous gentleman at that stage, collapsed
into his seat.
The bishop read the card to the congregation,
causing no little merriment ; and then in his in
imitable manner, delivered his truth. The fruits
appeared. A few weeks afterwards, two-thirds of
the congregation yielded up their rights to pews,
and promised an ample support through the offer
ings. The other pew-holders followed within the
year, and that church became the cosmopolitan
and all-inclusive institution it is to-day.
AN INTELLECTUAL ANVIL.
But always there is seed being sown, silently and unseen ; and ev
erywhere there come sweet flowers without our foresight and labor.
IT is a notable fact, that although there had
been a close intimacy between Impey and Ai for
half a century, Impey had never been to Church,
to hear Ai preach. He had spent much time in
the bishop's company, revised much of his man
uscript, nursed him for weeks in illness, but had
never set foot inside his Church. Impey had led
little children to the school of the little cathedral,
and had distributed at the corners thousands of
invitations to its services ; but had never gone
himself. He sometimes would inveigle working-
men into discussions on Sunday mornings, and
then breaking off suddenly would say, "If you
wish to hear this very subject discussed, go to
the Church on Minster Street this morning, and
hear Ai preach; he will treat it ably, I assure
you." And thus he had sent many interested
listeners, but had never gone himself.
'' Why should I go and hear myself preach ? "
he said to me one day.
"How yourself preach? I don't understand
"There has not been a sermon from the lips
of Ai for years, that I could not have repeated
to you three days before it was delivered, in sub
stance, at least."
All this was curious, and Impey told me the
following story as we walked up the glen to Bel-
mont, to hear the Gypsy band.
"That bishop has the most consummate faculty
of selecting the good ideas lying loose around him,
and not only selecting, but reflecting them ; and
it is that which makes him the forceful man he
is. He selects ; he reflects ; he is a huge mirror.
He fills his Church with all sorts and conditions
of men, and his power over all comes from his
understanding of all. He talks with the brick
layers on the scaffold, stands on platforms with
conductors, lingers around shops, and sits with
workmen while they take their noonday rest.
He learns the modes of thought of each, and
their language ; and having gathered his material,
he comes to me, or rather I go to him ; when
together we select and trim, arrange and fill out,
in short we hammer out his sermon."
" You ! of the little propaganda at Franklin and
Wood, help the bishop to preach, did you say?"
"Yes; we hammer out the sermons together ;
we did that a long time before I knew it ; how
long, I cannot say. Perhaps you would like to
hear how I found him out."
" Found him out, did you say? "
"Yes, found him out ; he was sly ; but I found
Impey then continued :
" One day a lady was taking me to task for not
going to church. I pleasantly asked her how much
of the last sermon she remembered. She replied
that she remembered a great deal could not help
doing so, her pastor was so interesting. She then
went on and recounted the points of a sermon on
the cruelties of sport. Up to this time she had not
told me who the preacher was : but I interrupted
her, and said that it seemed as if Ai might have
been that preacher. She seemed surprised and
asked how I knew. I did not tell her how we had
debated the subject a few days before Ai was to
preach in the interest of the Society for the Pre
vention of Cruelty to Animals.
" A few days afterward, another thing happened.
The same lady said that I ought to have heard Ai
preach on the destruction of the poor by their
poverty. I then remembered that Ai and I had
been comparing notes just a few days before, and
had come to the conclusion that every day furn
ished pitiful instances of the disadvantages under
which the poor labored.
" Here were two incidents which gave me light.
But the week following, when the lady was about
telling me the subject of Ai's last sermon, I antici
pated her, and told her not only the subject, but
also the method of treatment, and even told her
the points upon which he waxed warm, and those
upon which he was indifferent. She thought I
must have been there to hear him, but I assured
her that I had not, and that I never had heard
him; which a little perplexed her.
" I was then convinced that I was helping Ai.
For years this has been going on. Many a good
time have we had on that floor ; they have been
feasts to us, those evenings. The Church got only
the skimmed milk ; we had the cream. The Church
saw the flash only ; the forceful work was done in
that room. We were warmed, I assure you,
whether others were or not. Preaching, what a
poor thing it is, compared with the preparing to
preach. And for one man to prepare his sermons,
what a prosy affair, both to himself and to the
congregation. It is when two work out the thought
hammer it out like two at an anvil that some-
thing can be expected. The people said Ai
preached. Ai knew it was Ai and I.
" You ought to feel the luxury of Ai's rugs ; a
pile of them, each one an inch in thickness,
brought from the Orient. We reveled in their,
softness, and they might tell their wonderful tales.
For years my Thursdays belonged to Ai. After
he was safe from intrusion in the evening, we
would take off our shoes and coats, blow out the
candle, pile wood on the fire, and lie on the rugs,
watching the shadows play on the ceiling. He
then would ask a question, only a casual one ap
parently, but it was designedly done, a part of his
method to draw me out and make me talk. No
one would have thought anything about it, unless
he had been in the secret. This was his anvil
upon which he forged his addresses. Sometimes
he would make an assertion that would naturally
arouse dissent ; this only to create an interest.
There was mqthod in his affected skepticism.
He would lead me on by questions and cross-
questions, until the whole subject in hand had
been gone over, investigated, turned inside out,
rearranged, trimmed and polished ; and so for
several hours, sometimes until the small hours,
we would forge the lances which he so aptly
hurled from his cathedral pulpit. At first, as I
said before, I was not aware of his method; but
I learnt it in time. Those were rare seasons. 1
never missed the Thursday roll on the floor, and
many a night have I slept there, after our inter
change of thought and talk. And such talk ! I
have known him to bring down his little fist upon
those rugs and send clouds of dust up the chim
ney. I have seen him kick over a chair, while
expressing his contempt at the unchristian things
that are done in the name of the Nazarene.
" I once told a friend, the same lady, that I
was the preacher, and that Ai was my mouthpiece.
She took it all in a spirit of banter. I assured her,
it was even so, and I would prove it to her. She
then asked me, with a twinkle in her eye, what
next Sunday's sermon was to be. I told her, that
that had been determined last Thursday."
'' ' What is it? ' she asked dubiously; and I told
Here Impey broke off the conversation and we
walked a long time without a word. I then asked
him what he had told the lady, what the subject
of the sermon had been.
He touched his forehead as if trying to recol
lect ; then repeated slowly :
" The Absolute Inerrancy of all Writings that
have been Chiseled on Crumbling Stone ; Written
by the finger of One Who was a Spirit ; Penned
by Stylus and Quill ; and afterward Transcribed
and Re-transcribed; Translated and Re-trans
lated ; Printed and Reprinted; taking the
Chances of Centuries of Vicissitudes ; Read and
Re-read by Men advanced in Every Degree of
Learning and Ignorance. ' '
" What ! ! ! "
" That," said Impey, " was the title I suggested
to Ai ; but he boiled it down, and advertised that
he would preach on ' The Inspiration of the Scrip
" Ai called me his partner ; and without me he
seemed to be disconcerted, and the work could not
go on ; and without this hammering Ai never
preached. I never parted from him without his
asking me whether I could be depended upon next
Thursday, without fail."
Let u? then be what we are, and speak what we think, and in .ill
things keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sacred professions of
IN analyzing the character of a great man, it is
sometimes difficult to fix upon any one particular
thing which made him great. The distinguishing
mark when found is frequently so small, or so
ordinary, that it is a matter of surprise. The
point of excellence will generally be found in the
direction of human sympathy. The man was a
benefactor to his race, and in this consisted his
greatness. No one is remembered fondly who has
been selfish or cruel ; but one who has been in
sympathetic touch with his fellow-men, is en
shrined in their hearts.
For half a century Ai lived a quiet life among
the people. It was preeminently a sympathetic
life among people of all classes. He knew no
classes, and scorned a condescending air toward
the poor as much as he did a crawling, deferential
attitude toward the rich. He knew only the man
as his brother and fellow, and sought to be of
service as such. These characteristics mark the
To influence the individual was one purpose of
his life, and he tried to have others act on the
same principle ; and thus, he maintained, would
society be influenced. This can only be done by
walking the straight line of integrity, and by a
close sympathy with men. He was a great gen
eral ; but he became so because he knew how to
go along the rank and file, knowing each man, and
putting himself into sympathetic touch with that
man. He never put on his regalia and mounted a
pedestal, saying, "See, I am a great man ac-
knowledge me as such ; " but" as he went about in
fatigue dress, the people instinctively felt that here
was coming a man.
His sympathy for suffering was as keen as was
his hatred of folly and shams. In passing along
the street he would raise his hat and walk with
bowed head when passing a door marked with the
sign of affliction. This was not noticed by Impey
for a long time, until one winter day. It could
not then be on account of the heat, and it occur
red always at the door where the sign of death was
displayed. Impey made a note of his surmises,
and he satisfied himself of their correctness. Here
Shoenstein and Ai found common ground, and
their sympathies drew them together. The Jew
would frequently join Ai in his walks through the
quarters tenanted by the poor; and when passing
a door where the sign was white, they would in
quire whether they could be of service, even if the
people were strangers. Shoenstein would always
ask particularly whether the little one was a boy.
On stormy winter days the two old men would fol
low the little processions and stand in the rain and
in the snow, and see the last rites performed. The
bishop and the Jew walked arm in arm, recalling
memories which could not be effaced. The Jew's
steps became tottering; but he would wrap him
self in his warm cloak, and stand in the cold wind
and rain, because fifty years ago he had laid away.
a child, his little Jacob, and he remembered
the day was snowy and stormy. The two old men
would put their arms around one another for sup
port ; and after these funerals they would go to
the room of the bishop, and the story of little
Jacob would be recounted with minuteness, while
the bishop would listen, and perhaps touch up the
wheels of the little iron locomotive with red paint.
The bishop, however, could not be induced to
talk. He would only shake his head, and strive
to hide his feelings; and an occasional tear would
steal upon his cheek and fall upon the toy. P'or
fifty years the locomotive had made its rounds to
the. sick-rooms of little children, and was painted
over many times to make it bright and attractive.
The invalid poor remembered Ai fondly. It
was through his influence that the carriages of the
prosperous came to be placed at the disposal of the
poor, who needed fresh air and a change of scene.
Half a century ago, could still be seen a coachman
exercising his horses in the Park, with an empty
carriage, while invalids were sweltering in courts
or close attics. Within the memory of men still
living, some lone woman could be seen driving two
horses two horses to pull this one woman. It
was after that sermon of Ai's on personal service ,
and that other sermon on the reign of brotherhood
and the triumph of the kindly heart, that a woman
asked for a sphere. He said, "Bring around your
carriage; bring it, don't send it." He then gave
her several addresses of invalids who would ap
preciate an airing. The effect was magical. This
leader of fashion really did it as a sincere service ;
but in a few weeks many had taken it up as a fad ;
and to give rides to invalids became an imperative
duty for those who wished to be in the fashion.
Most, of course, soon tired, but the sincere kept
on, and the matter found a solid base. The car
riages did not wait outside the churches, but in
valids were taken a turn in the Park until service
was over. "There are two services going on;
one here, inside ; and one there, outside," the
bishop said one day. It had its desired effect,
and after that he had plenty of carriages placed at
his disposal ; and thus the beautiful custom grew.
One day an amusing incident happened. A kind
old lady was riding alone through the Park, re
proaching herself on account of her selfishness.
The day was fine, and the thoughts of suffering in
the homes of the poor pricked her conscience.
She would make amends, she thought, and would
give that old man, sitting there by the roadside, a
pleasant ride. He looked tired and needed it.
The old man beat the dust out his trousers, drew
his shoes through the grass, and then handing up
his stick, climbed in. The stick was heavy, such
as tramps used for carrying their bundles, and it
caused her a little uneasiness. The man plunged
into the seat beside her, and assumed the air of
one who felt at home. He began an incessant
chatter, which amused her, after her first fright,
and when she noticed his face, she thought she saw
the marks of kindness and benevolence. He
wiped his face with a dainty white handkerchief,
which left a streak on his cheek. He talked of
the horses and seemed to know a fine stepper; this
pleased the lady, who, in her younger days, had
been fond of the turf, and she became quite at
ease. Then he talked of the late election ; but
soon, changed the subject and spoke of a recent
discovery in science, the utilizing of the force of
the ebb and flow of the tides for manufacturing
purposes. He explained the different species of
trees ; and once ordered the carriage stopped, in
order to gather a strange specimen of flower he had
noticed by the roadside. He examined it closely,
analyzed it, and declared it something new. The
lady ordered the coachman a longer way round,
that she might get more of this man's talk. Occa
sionally she would look at the stick, and the dusty
shoes, and the streak on his cheek ; and then she
placed in contrast the dainty handkerchief and the
benevolent face, and these things, with all this con-
versation, tended to puzzle her. " It is astonish
ing," said he, " what some people will do to make
a living. They prey upon the passions and baser
feelings of men, and excite and encourage them in
their exercise, and get their living out of the mat
ter. They actually do this for a living. Then
there is another class who get their living by the
misfortunes of their fellows. They calculate upon
a certain percentage of financial failures, and this
brings them a living. They do not cause disaster ;
they simply calculate upon its happening, and ar
range to take advantage of the fact. It is curious
to think of the many ways by which men gain a
living." This all set the lady wondering what he
was driving at, what he really meant ; but be
fore she could ask, he was on the subject of open
ing the museums and libraries on Sunday. This
illustrated the fact that the destruction of the poor
was their poverty. The rich man's business goes
on while he sees the pictures during the week, and
it costs him his admission only ; but the laborer
must pay his admission and lose his wages besides.
The clergy might well ask themselves why their
Churches should be closed all week. The lady
tried to ask a question, but he wanted to get out at
the Girard Avenue Bridge, and walk to Horticul
tural Hall to meet a celebrated botanist whom he
mentioned ; so they abruptly parted. The next
day the lady was congratulated on the feast of rea
son which she must have enjoyed. She had been
seen by a number of acquaintances as they passed
in their carriages. She then told her interesting
story, and wondered who the man could have
been ; he knew all about horses, talked of politics,
and the wonderful and recent discoveries of
science, discussed social topics, analyzed a flower,
and then left abruptly to meet a great man of
"Then you did not know him ?" one asked.
No ; she had found him by the river road and
wished to give the poor man a ride.
" That was the bishop, Mrs. Kindheart ! "
Ai's vacations were the source of a rich fund of
information, which he made use of in his work.
He knew men and hence could deal with them.
' ' They say the poor man prefers the dram-shop
because his sleeping place is so wretched. He
sleeps on Park benches because of the discomforts
of his home. I will see about this," he said one
day. When he took his next vacation, he packed
a little bundle in a red handkerchief and went
without leaving any address, he would send a
messenger for his letters, and no questions should
be asked. He wanted to find out about the homes
of the poor in the parishes where the churches
were filled with the rich. He first chose the section
frequented by a wandering class of actors, men
out of work, discharged convicts, undetected
criminals, and a forlorn class of men who had
failed in life from one cause or another. He en
gaged a bed in a cheap lodging house for two days
and learnt something about cleanliness Here his
bed had not been the cheapest, so he took a
cheaper, and the vermin kept him in misery. He
next engaged a bed in a room where there were
many others, and the noise of the drunken men
kept him awake, and the conversation overheard
was a revelation. One night the room was occu
pied by a number of sailors, one of whom stuck up
a row of bugs on pins, like soldiers, to the great
merriment of the rest. Then the old tars spun
wonderful yarns, and recounted their various ex
periences in lodging houses in different parts of
the world. The bishop laughed, and made his
contribution of a story. He took his meals at
cheap restaurants, and found out what some men
live by. He edged up to the street cleaners as
they took their rest at noon, and looked into their
handkerchiefs as they unrolled them to get their
dinners, and he saw what some men live by. He
was taken for a pard out of work, so they offered
to share their dinners. This kind-heartedness of
the poor greatly touched him. They gathered
pennies along the row and made up the price of a
kettle of beer. When he saw their wretched
messes, he could understand why they sought to
drown their sorrows.
These experiences gave him a knowledge of
men. It appalled him to see the number of re
spectable broken-down men who had failed in life.
He noticed especially the woe-begone, dejected
look of men who had been betrayed by friends ;
men who had endorsed, literally crucified them
selves to save others ; and then had been cruelly
betrayed. He became interested in men who had
once been comfortable, but had become involved
in litigations. The bcarding-houses swarmed with
these wrecks, and they struggled along with their
careworn heroic wives, trying to keep above the
waters. These disasters are borne in silence by
those not on Church rolls, but who are on that roll
of the heroic. As he sat with these men, munch
ing their cheap food, he would get them to talk,
and find out their story. They had each his tale
of litigation, sad, shameful records of crime com
mitted by men who frequent the Churches, and
who call to their aid the strong arm of the law.
He went quite thoroughly into the matter, and was
saddened to find the widespread desolation and the
broken hearts on every side. He made careful
notes, and after listening to a large number of his
tories told independently of one another, he en-
tered into his note-book one brief sentence
" When you go to law, fill your purse."
He met many strange characters during this va
cation. One day he got this story from a man.
He had a friend in jail serving a sentence of three
years for some petty theft. He himself had been
partner in the crime, but the convict never be
trayed him. This loyalty so affected the man,
that he worked hard to support his friend's family,
and he had been their only support for a long time.
He himself, however, was finally detected and im
prisoned, and the poor family, left without sup
port, was thrust into the most distressing poverty.
" One is led to doubt," said the bishop, " whether
imprisonment for any long term is the proper
thing, when such a spirit is displayed. The loyal
conduct of both these convicts did not spring from
an intrinsically bad heart. It is a question,
whether every month after the first, does not tend
to degradation. Besides, these men had a theory
that they had only taken that which had first been
taken from them, in the shape of earnings." The
bishop held decided views with regard to sentences
of imprisonment. He thought that definite terms
of imprisonment were a relic of barbarism, and
not seasoned with scientific knowledge, common
sense, or humanitarian instincts. Some men sen
tenced to long terms, were sufficiently punished in
one week ; and every additional week served only
to degrade, to embitter, and to destroy the man,
instead of reforming him ; while on the other
hand, there are men walking our streets who ought
to be under perpetual restraint. He advocated an
indefinite term of imprisonment, and the employ
ment of such methods as tended to the reforma
tion of the man. An inflexible machinery will
not do this. In discussing these subjects of the
treatment of prisoners, he would invariably end
by saying, " But all this is something that ought
to have been attended to when the boy was in
knickerbockers. When we will learn how to start
men in life, \ve need not pay so much attention to
the other end."
After vacation he divested himself of his coarse
clothing, and met some pleasant people, at Mrs.
Airy's. Several bright women recounted their
summer experiences at the fashionable resorts.
The bishop evaded carefully all questions as to his
summer. Once he was asked whether he had had
a pleasant time. He replied that he had had a
He placed himself into close relations with all
agencies that tended to alleviate suffering among
children. He pitied the man or woman who suf
fered mentally or physically, but he himself suf-
ferecl when he saw the sufferings of children and
the wrongs done them.
Ai gathered around him a noble class of men,
men of affairs as a rule, who did not seek the
priesthood as a profession ; these he pressed into
the service, and ordained. He had some of the
formalities revised, so that many who sought, but
who had no particular mark of a call, were ex
cluded ; while those who betrayed, unconsciously
to themselves, afitness for the work, were ordained,
almost against their will. After the usual formal
recommendations had been made, he invariably
asked the candidates if they could bring a certifi
cate from a group of boys who could not write
their names, the cellar-door recommendation, he
called it. In prowling around at night looking af