“No, sir; I firmly believe I was called years ago, but I resisted. I think I would have been a preacher if there had been no war. But probably the war has caused me to enter it sooner than I might have done otherwise.”
“You feel, then, that it is your duty to preach?” asked the Doctor.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Then, there is no more to be said about it,” answered the Doctor. “The sooner you begin the better. I believe I have not asked you under what ecclesiastical auspices you propose to preach?”
“The Presbyterian, of course,” said Ernest with a smile. “I suppose my dear Mildred would hardly consent to anything else.”
“O, I am not so prejudiced as all that,” answered Mildred laughing. “If you felt it your duty to attach yourself to any other orthodox Church, I should not oppose you. But to tell you the truth, I love my Church to such an extent that I could never be happy in any other, and I never could feel the same zeal in another.”
“Mildred is a true blue,” said the Doctor with a laugh, “and I am glad to think you will find her a useful helpmeet in your work.”
“I expect she will make a better pastor than I,” said Ernest, “for I am not as social as she is. I fear that this thing of visiting will be the most troublesome duty I shall have to perform.”
“People will require a great deal of you in that respect,” said the Doctor. “You will find that most of them wish you to visit them not on account of their spiritual interests: but it is the social feature they regard. I have noticed that most Presbyterian ministers are more reserved in their manners than those of some other denominations. This is, no doubt, to be attributed to the long course of mental discipline to which they are subjected. They acquire the habit of solitary study till the social feature of their nature is considerably impaired. On this account I have known some ministers to be accused of stiffness, pride and formality, who were humble, godly men. They really did not understand the demands of social etiquette. You will have to cultivate this feature.”