of
his pro rata salary system.

Still, if all the preachers in the Church were as literally in earnest
about living just to preach the gospel as William was, it would have
been a good one. The fact is they are not. The very gifted, highly
educated pastor of a rich city church feels it down to his spiritual
bones that his gospel is worth more than that of the simple-minded
itinerant on a country circuit. And most of them would have to
experience something more illuminating and stringent even than the
"second blessing" before they could be made to see the matter
differently. And I do not blame them. We just can't get over being
human and greedy and covetous anywhere, it seems, especially in a rich
pulpit. William stood a better chance for developing the right
heavenly mind in his part of the vineyard. And I ought to have been
satisfied to see the way he grew in grace, and in that finer, sweeter
knowledge of the Lord and his ways, but I never was.

I used to think, too, that his gospel was worth more than some other
preacher's who received a better salary. But it comforts me now to
know that he never thought it. If William was covetous about anything
it was salvation. He was never satisfied with being as good as he was.
He was always longing and praying and going about in the effort just to
be a better man, more worthy of the message he had to deliver. These
were the kind of seraphic pleasures he took in living. And there was
no mortal power, no poverty or hardship that could do him out of them.
He would come back from feeding some vicious sinner with his gospel
substances exhilarated. It seemed to strengthen his spirit to drive
five miles through freezing winter weather to some country church to
preach to half a dozen men and women who may have only come on such a
bad day with the hope of finding that the preacher failed to come, a
shepherd unfaithful to his flock in a trying season. And of course, if
you are called to preach, this is the way to be, but if you are called
to be just the wife of a preacher, it is different. I do not say it
ought to be, but it is. I used to get tired of being poor in spirit.
There came days when I wanted to inherit the earth, the real earth, you
understand. The figure of speech might have been better for my soul,
but what I hankered after was something opulent and comfortable for
just the human me. And this brings to mind an incident that happened
when I was in one of the