reasonable service. Maybe if he had especial "liberty" in
his delivery there would be a lively response of "Amens" from the
brethren. Maybe some old black bonneted sister would slap her hands
and shout a little on the side, but nobody ever really did the things
he told them to do. If they had, William alone could have
revolutionized human society in the course of his ministry. But he was
never aware of his failure. He was like a man holden in a heavenly
vision, a man supping in one long dream upon the milk and honey of far
off Canaan.

For this reason, as I have said, he sometimes blundered in the world
about him and I had to come to the rescue.

We were stationed at Arkville, a small village with two country
churches attached to make up the Circuit, when this incident happened
which will serve to illustrate what I mean. The congregation was
composed for the most part of men and women who worked in a cotton
factory, and of one rich man who owned it. He was that most ferocious
thing in human shape, a just man, with a thimble-headed soul, a narrow
mind and a talent for making money. He had built the church at
Arkville and he paid nearly all the assessments. He was a despot, with
a reputation among his employees of having mercy upon whom he would
have mercy. William never understood him. He regarded Brother Sears
as a being remarkably generous, and capable of growing in grace. Sears
accordingly flattered and honored the church with his presence every
Sunday during the first six months of his ministry.

But there came a dreadful Sabbath when William read for his New
Testament lesson the story of Dives's extraordinary prosperity in this
world, dwelt with significant and sympathetic inflection upon the needy
condition of Lazarus lying neglected outside his gate, afflicted with
sores. Then he capped the climax, after the singing of the second
hymn, by reading out in a deep, sonorous, judgment-trumpet voice:

"And Dives being in torment lifted up his eyes to Abraham in heaven and
begged for a drop of water to cool his parched tongue."

It was a tropical text and William preached a burning sermon from it.
As he grew older the vision of hell seemed to fade and he laid the
scenes of his discourses nearer and nearer the fragrant outskirts of
Heaven, but he was now in his hardy old age, and occasionally took a
severely good man's obtuse pleasure in picturing the penitentiary pangs
of sinners.

I shall always reta