Again, too often a minister is spoiled in his first charge by flattery, polite lies, and gushing women.  He is sadly overpraised.  A bright young fellow comes from the seminary.  He can preach; that is, he can prepare interesting essays, chiefly of a literary sort, which are pleasant to listen to, though, in the nature of things, they can have scarcely a word in them of that deep, life-giving experience and counsel which come from the hearts of men and women who have lived, and know the truth of life.  He is told that these sermons are “lovely,” “beautiful,” “so inspiring,” and he believes every word of praise.  No one says to him, “When you know more, you will preach better,” and his standard of excellence does not advance.  This man, who might have become a great preacher, remains, as years go on, alas! an intellectual potterer.

He is also socially made too much of, being one of the very few men available for golf and afternoon teas, suppers, picnics, tennis, charity-bazaars.  Other men are frankly too busy for much of these things, except for healthful recreation; and not infrequently one finds stray ministers absolutely the only men at some function to which men have been invited.

A minister is not a parlor-pet.  How many a time an energetic man, society-bound, must long to kick over a few afternoon tea-tables, and smash his way out through bric-a-brac and chit-chat to freedom and power!

I should think that a real Man in the ministry would get so very tired of women!  They tell him all their complaints and difficulties, from headaches, servants, and unruly children, to their sentimental experiences and their spiritual problems.  Men tell him almost nothing.  Watch any group of men talking, as the minister comes in.  A moment before they were eager, alert, argumentative.  Now they are polite or mildly bored.  He is not of their world.  Some assert that he is not even of their sex!  Hence the lips of men are too often sealed to the minister.  He must find some way not only to meet them as brother to brother, but he must capture their inmost hearts.  The shy confidence of an honorable man once won, his friendship never fails.

The question of a minister’s relation to the women of his congregation and the community is not only curious and complex—­it is a perpetual comedy.  How do other men in public life deal with this problem?  They have a genial but indifferent dignity, quite compatible with courtesy and friendly ways.  They shoulder responsibility; they do not flirt; they sort out cranks; they flee from simpers; they put down presumption.  If married, they laugh heartily with their wives over any letter or episode that is comical or sentimental.  If not married, they get out of things the best way they know how, with a sort of plain, manly directness.  If a minister would arrogate to himself his free-born privilege of being a thorough-going man, many of his troubles would disappear.