It happened that the Bishop of the Diocese came to visit Y—a week before Mr. Carroll intended taking his departure with his motherless children, for his old home, where a church had been offered him in connexion with a school. To him, three or four prominent members of the church complained that the minister was mercenary, and looked more to the loaves and fishes than to the duty of saving souls.
"Mercenary!" said the Bishop, with a strong expression of surprise.
"Yes, mercenary," repeated his accusers.
"So far from it," said the Bishop, warmly, "he has paid more during the year, for supporting the Gospel in Y—, than any five men in the parish put together."
"Mr. Carroll has!"
"How much do you give?" addressing one.
"I pay ten dollars pew rent, and give ten extra, besides," was the answer.
"And you," speaking to another.
"The same."
"And you?"