venty, with a big, maternal heart; and when
she saw me rise to walk up the aisle alone, she immediately rose, too,
came to my side, offered me her arm, and led me to the altar.

The ordination service was very impressive and beautiful. Its peace
and dignity, following the battle that had raged for days, moved me
so deeply that I was nearly overcome. Indeed, I was on the verge of a
breakdown when I was mercifully saved by the clause in the discipline
calling for the pledge all ministers had to make--that I would not
indulge in the use of tobacco. When this vow fell from my lips a
perceptible ripple ran over the congregation.

I was homesick for my Cape Cod parish, and I returned to East Dennis
immediately after my ordination, arriving there on Saturday night.
I knew by the suppressed excitement of my friends that some surprise
awaited me, but I did not learn what it was until I entered my dear
little church the following morning. There I found the communion-table
set forth with a beautiful new communion-service. This had been
purchased during my absence, that I might dedicate it that day and for
the first time administer the sacrament to my people.

VI. CAPE COD MEMORIES

Looking back now upon those days, I see my Cape Cod friends as clearly
as if the intervening years had been wiped out and we were again
together. Among those I most loved were two widely differing
types--Captain Doane, a retired sea-captain, and Relief Paine, an
invalid chained to her couch, but whose beautiful influence permeated
the community like an atmosphere. Captain Doane was one of the finest
men I have ever known--highminded, tolerant, sympathetic, and full of
understanding, He was not only my friend, but my church barometer. He
occupied a front pew, close to the pulpit; and when I was preaching
without making much appeal he sat looking me straight in the face,
listening courteously, but without interest. When I got into my subject,
he would lean forward--the angle at which he sat indicating the
degree of attention I had aroused--and when I was strongly holding my
congregation Brother Doane would bend toward me, following every word
I uttered with corresponding motions of his lips. When I resigned we
parted with deep regret, but it was not until I visited the church
several years afterward that he overcame his reserve enough to tell me
how much he had felt my going.

"Oh, did you?" I asked, greatly touched. "You're not saying that mer