he oldest and most revered members, the father
of a very large family and the leader of the little brotherhood, had
intimated his intention of withdrawing from fellowship and of joining
another denomination. This formidable secession had thrown the little
congregation into helpless confusion, and an appeal was made to the
courts of the denomination. The letter was read; and the secretary
stated briefly and succinctly the facts of the situation. And then, to
my amazement, he closed by moving that Mr. William Forbury and myself
be appointed a deputation to visit the district, to advise the church,
and to report to Conference. Mr. Forbury, he explained, was a father
in Israel. His grey hairs commanded reverence; whilst his ripe
experience and sound judgement would be invaluable to the small and
troubled community. So far, so good. His reasoning seemed
irresistible. But he went on to say that he had included my name
because I was an absolute stranger. I knew nothing of the internal
disputes that had rent the church. My very freshness would give me a
position of impartiality that older men could not claim. Moreover, he
argued, the visit to a bush congregation, and the insight into its
peculiar difficulties, would be a useful experience for me. I felt
that I could not decently decline; but I confidently expected that the
proposal would be challenged and probably rejected. To my
astonishment, however, it was seconded and carried. And nothing
remained but to arrange with Mr. Forbury the date of our delegation.

The day came, and we set out. It took the train just four hours to
convey us to the lonely station from which we emerged upon a wilderness
of green bush and a maze of muddy tracks. Mr. Forbury had visited the
district frequently, and knew it well. We called upon several settlers
in the course of the afternoon, taking dinner with one, and afternoon
tea with another. And then we proceeded to the home of the seceder.
The place seemed alive with young people. The house swarmed with
children.

'How are you, John?' inquired my companion.

'Ah, William, glad to see you; how are you?'

They made an interesting study, these two old men. Their forms were
bent with long years of hard and honourable toil. Their faces were
rugged and weatherbeaten, wrinkled with age, and furrowed with care.
They had come out together from the Homeland years and years ago. They
had borne each other's burdens, and shared each