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6 “THI MAN THAT CAME AFTER THE ANGEL " (▲ Ministerial experience, profitable also to the Laity.) It was rather a bitter laugh to come from a young, strong fellow with a good-natured face. But there in his lonely study, thawing at the stove from the cold of a long winter drive and the chill of a half-warmed church, sat Rev. John Brown, B. A. During his round of visits that day be had come to old Uncle Billy Woodyatt, who "enjoyed” at once, as he said, "poor health and a second wife.” "No,” said Uncle Billy to the minister, as he sought from him sympathy for his various troubles and came at last to the subject of his second wife, "No, I ain’t got nothing to say against this one, but my first was an angel.” And Rev. John Brown laughed bitterly as be repeated quietly t4< himself, "nothing to say against her—but the first was an angel," then he added softly, "poor thing T Then he began musing while the fire burned, and said again, "Poor thing, to come after an 'angel,' but it’s just my luck, too. There was my brother Bob, his pants lasted longer, his boots were always better blacked, his lessons better learned, and if I said anything out of the way it was, ‘Bob would never have said that or done the other thing.' At school old Dominie Wilson used to say, Brother Robert would never have made that mistake!' In the games, too, no matter how well I did, the boys used to say to the new comers, ‘Ob, but you ought to have seen Bob Brown.’ "In college Cousin Tom was the 'angel' and won all the med als and delivered the valedic tory and was held up to me by all the professors, and now"—-and there was an illdefined mumble that sounded very much like "bother take it,” "and now—it’s worse than ever. Nothing to say against met oh, no! not at all, but ‘the first was an angel,'” and again the rather grim laugh echoed through the lonely room, for Rev. John Brown, B. A., was only human and a good deal tired and rather disposed to be blue. Now John Brown was natur ally a cheery, hearty fellow, a good average student and ath lete, a fairly good'preacher and a thoroughly honest above board. THE LUTHERAN VISITOR fellow, whom all men as well as women liked and children all trusted. But today he had a considerable overdose of "the angel.” "The angel” in this case was Rev. Frederick Kittering, Ph. D., John’s immediate predecessor in the pastorate of the Evanston Congregational church. He was a good man, there was no doubt of that, for John knew him, but, as John said, "You know the fellow roust have been an ‘angel,* for Deacon Jones said, ‘Mr. Kitter ing used to hold prayer meeting every Tuesday evening at Bolt on’s Corners and Wednesday in our If me church and Thursday at thf Landing.’ while Deacon Bitwt 1| who lived eight miles in the other direction from Deacon Jones said, ‘Yes, sir, rain or shine, Mr. Kittering never missed a prayer meeting Tues day evening at the Glen school house’ (ten miles from Bolton's Corners and at the same hour) ‘and Thursday at the Old Union church in Springfield’ (thirteen miles from the Landing).” Then John learned that Mr. Kittering used to preach "every’’ Sunday afternoon in two places sixteen miles apart at the same hour and, moreover, that he "was the g-eatest man for ex changing with his brothel ministers,” though when he got the time John could not tell. Then about visiting, at least forty families told John that Mr. Kittering used to visit "a groat deal of toner than you do. Why, you are quite a stranger. He used to come and bring Mrs. Kittering and spend the day with us once every month at least.” "Forty into thirty-one doesn’t go with me,” said John to himself; "the fellow must have been an angel and not subject to the usual limitations of space and time.” But that wasn't all, for three different sick folks claimed the honor of Mr. Kittering’s Monday afternoons. With all that, as Mr. Barber put it, "Mr. Kitter ing, sir, was a great visitor; he was always on the road.” "He must have been,” John very feelingly replied. "Oh, the depth of Mr. Kittering’s sermons,” said old John McLeod, more familiarly known as "Holy John”; "that man spent days and nights in his study.” "Just so,” said John, and I am afraid he meant more than he said. Beyond all this, Mr. Kittering could sing like a lark, draw on the black-board like an artist and play the organ like—an angel. John couldn’t do any of these things, but he heard that Mr. Kittering could. Mr. Kitter ing gave lectures in the college, was a popular stump speaker, and even wrote poetry which the choir sang to music of his composing. ’ His Sunday school addresses were wonderful, his funeral ora tions deeply sympathetic, his power in prayer remarkable and his visits to the sick a real means of health. Everywhere he went John beard of him and the sing ing of his praises, but at last this very afternoon John had gone into Widow McCammus’, and there on the mantel in the very center stood the photo of Mr. Kittering. "Oh,” said the old lady, "but he was a darling.” So as the fire died down John got bluer and bluer. It seemed.no use. He knew they must be unconsciously ex aggerating. for at least no man could be in two places- at once, but after such a man could there be anv chance for a plain, humble man to win their hearts sn<i do good work? Just then John thought of Uncle Esek Martin, who in bis later bachelor days sought com fort in the form of a widow and found it not. One day she led him to the cem etery where reposed the remains of her first husband. There she wept so copiously that Uncle Esek lost patience and said to a friend be buttonholed, "I’d give ten dollars if she only had him again.” And John thought too, "Well, I’d give something if they only had their angel, Mr. Kitter ing, back.” But being a young and healthy Christian John took his Bible, turned to the verso which says of a certain woman, "She hath done what she could,” and said to himself, “Well, the Master knows I have tried to, so it’s all right with him,” and giving him self a mental and spiritual shake turned into bed. All the same he couldn’t forget Kittering. He didn’t get any chance to, and when a year later the way opened for his long-cher ished desire to go abroad as a foreign missionary I am afraid there was just a little Kittering mixed in with the application he sent in for a place to do pioneer work, "nof building on any other man’s foundation.” He went to the Congo after the usual ad- Febmary 13, 190k dresses and presentations and : farewell meetings, all of which John, being modest, set down to the fact of his going as a foreign missionary. A year later the same John, ' but tanned and a little thinner, j under the thatched roof of his < mud-walled hut, reading the appointment of Rev. Alex.3 Saunders, a very decent fellow, : to the Evanston church, having J in mind "the angel,” sat down and wrote him a letter of sym pathy in View of the excellencies of Mr. Kittering. Six months later again Rev.j John Brown made the very walls 1 of his hut to ring again with < hearty laughter when the mail] came in. Between spasms hsj handed the letter to his colJ league. It was from Alex. Saun- unders, and this is all it said: "My Dear Brown; Thanks for 1 your letter, but human nature id still the same. The fish we loss] is always bigger than any wsl catch. Distance lends enchantl ment to the view. There wn| nothing t nal in your esj] perieuce. .tering isn't in it;j you are the angel now.”—R*fl Wm. T. Gunn, inTheCongrega] tionalist. The will of God respecting ou is that we shall live by each oM her's happiness and life; not bfl each other’s misery or death. A] child may have to die for its ps-| rents; but the purpose of heavfif is that it should rather live them—that, not by its sacrif but by its strength, its joy, force of being, it shall be to tt renewal of strength and as arrow in the hand of a gil So it is in all other right relatic Men help each other by joy, not by their sorrow, are not intended to slay tfe selves for each other, but strengthen themselves for other.—Ruskin. He that keeps the integrity' g own consciousness and ithful to himself, day by d« also faithful to God for ty, and helps to restore tegrity of the world of men.- leodore Parker. While we are passing thro# he world we have no right nake other people unhappy- "A duty is no sooner diyil lan from that very moment^ e~%c! r\i’■vrv t wwtt 11 IIS.