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“Your Lordship has heard how he can preach,”
put in the sexton.
The Bishop mentioned the unobservance of the
church services.
“Our pastor may be ill occasionally, like any
other man,” replied the peasants.
He hinted at their previously expressed
disapproval of his ways.
They defended him with one accord. He was so
young, there was no danger but things would come
right. Indeed, if he would only preach every
Sunday as he had preached that morning, they would
not exchange him for the Bishop himself.
There was no prosecution, there could be no
judgment.
The pastor felt how his heart expanded, how
lightly the blood flowed along his veins. Ah! he was
no longer among enemies, he had won these people
when he had least expected it, and he could retain
his priestly calling.
When the meeting was over, the Bishop, all the
clergy, and the chief parishioners went to dine at
the parsonage.
The wife of a neighbor had undertaken to
arrange matters, as the young preacher was unmarried.
She had managed everything in the best possible
manner, and for the first time he saw that the
parsonage could be made habitable. The long dining-table
had been carried out of doors, and stood under
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