his frequent custom, he
had a brother local preacher in the pulpit with him, to assist in the
preliminary exercises. On this occasion our old friend T. Holden acted
as his curate. Abe was blessed with great liberty during the delivery
of the sermon: he wept, clapped his hands, stamped his feet, and
rattled his clogs together. Brother Holden shuffled about to make room
for him as well as he could in the narrow area of the pulpit, but he
was not quick enough; down came Abe's foot on the curate's toes, almost
capsizing the preacher, without in the least disconcerting him. "Moind
thee toas, lad, steam's up, I mun jump a bit." And he did jump, the
more freely, too, when his assistant retired from his exalted position,
and left him all the pulpit to himself. It is evident from this little
event just narrated, and others which might be given, that Abe did, in
time, overcome his nervousness in the pulpit; being "plogged," and
"breaking down," became things of the past, and he began to feel as
much at home in the pulpit as in his own house. So far did he show
that "practice makes perfect."

CHAPTER XII.

"Butterfly Preachers."

Abe had no sympathy with men who allowed themselves to be called
preachers, and yet could treat with indifference the work which was
allotted to them on the Circuit plan; men who seldom made their minds
up to go to their work, until they saw what kind of weather it was
likely to be; men who didn't like going out in the rain for fear of
getting damp, nor in the wind because it exhausted them, nor in the sun
because it broiled them, nor in the dark for fear they might miss their
way. He called them "Butterfly preachers," and often declared he would
be ashamed to be counted among them.

Yet he did not lay all the blame of their conduct upon the shoulders of
these men, because he thought the people helped in some measure to put
"butterfly notions" into their minds. If a good man came to his
appointment through the rain and wind, and got somewhat badly used by
the weather, someone was almost sure to say something to frighten and
dishearten him from ever doing so again. "Oh dear, have you come in
all this rain? Well, I hardly thought you would be here; nobody could
blame you for staying at home on such a day; you are very wet, you'll
be sure to take cold and be laid up," and Abe used to say that kind of
talk was enough to give a chill to any man, and tempt him to stay at
home next time fo