"Where is Mr. N—?" inquired a dozen voices, as a little crowd gathered around the farmer.
"He hasn't come yet. Something has detained him. But I still look for him; indeed, I fully expected to find him here."
The day was cold, and Mr. Wade, after becoming thoroughly chilled, concluded to go in, and keep a look-out for the minister from the window near which he usually sat. Others, from the same cause, followed his example, and the little meeting house was soon filled, and still one after another came dropping in. The farmer, who turned towards the door each time it opened, was a little surprised to see his guest of the previous night enter, and come slowly along the aisle, looking from side to side as if in search of a vacant seat, very few of which were now left. Still advancing, he finally passed within the little enclosed altar, and ascending to the pulpit, took off his old gray overcoat and sat down.
By this time Mr. Wade was by his side, and with his hand upon his arm.
"You mustn't sit here. Come down, and I'll show you a seat," he said in an excited tone.
"Thank you," returned the man, in a composed tone. "It is very comfortable here."
"But you are in the pulpit! You are in the pulpit, sir!"
"Oh, never mind. It is very comfortable here." And the man remained immovable.
Mr. Wade, feeling much embarrassed, turned away, and went down, intending to get a brother official in the church to assist him in making a forcible ejection of the man from the place he was desecrating. Immediately upon his doing so, however, the man arose, and standing up at the desk, opened the hymn book. His voice thrilled to the very finger ends of Brother Wade, as, in a distinct and impressive manner, he gave out the hymn beginning—
"Help us to help each other, Lord,
Each other's cross to bear;
Let each his friendly aid afford,
And feel a brother's care."