“I come,” said I, with simulated reluctance and embarrassment, “in behalf of my friend, Brother Dobsho, to make a very delicate and unusual request.  You are, I think, going to baptise him to-morrow, and I trust it will be to him the beginning of a new and better life.  But I don’t know if you are aware that his family are all Plungers, and that he is himself tainted with the wicked heresy of that sect.  So it is.  He is, as one might say in secular metaphor, ‘on the fence’ between their grievous error and the pure faith of your church.  It would be most melancholy if he should get down on the wrong side.  Although I confess with shame I have not myself embraced the truth, I hope I am not too blind to see where it lies.”

“The calamity that you apprehend,” said the reverend lout, after solemn reflection, “would indeed seriously affect our friend’s interest and endanger his soul.  I had not expected Brother Dobsho so soon to give up the good fight.”

“I think sir,” I replied reflectively, “there is no fear of that if the matter is skilfully managed.  He is heartily with you—­might I venture to say with us—­on every point but one.  He favors immersion!  He has been so vile a sinner that he foolishly fears the more simple rite of your church will not make him wet enough.  Would you believe it? his uninstructed scruples on the point are so gross and materialistic that he actually suggested soaping himself as a preparatory ceremony!  I believe, however, if instead of sprinkling my friend, you would pour a generous basinful of water on his head—­but now that I think of it in your enlightening presence I see that such a proceeding is quite out of the question.  I fear we must let matters take the usual course, trusting to our later efforts to prevent the backsliding which may result.”

The parson rose and paced the floor a moment, then suggested that he’d better see Brother Dobsho, and labor to remove his error.  I told him I thought not; I was sure it would not be best.  Argument would only confirm him in his prejudices.  So it was settled that the subject should not be broached in that quarter.  It would have been bad for me if it had been.

When I reflect now upon the guile of that conversation, the falsehood of my representations and the wickedness of my motive I am almost ashamed to proceed with my narrative.  Had the minister been other than an arrant humbug, I hope I should never have suffered myself to make him the dupe of a scheme so sacrilegious in itself, and prosecuted with so sinful a disregard of honor.

The memorable Sabbath dawned bright and beautiful.  About nine o’clock the cracked old bell, rigged up on struts before the “meeting-house,” began to clamor its call to service, and nearly the whole population of Harding took its way to the performance.  I had taken the precaution to set my watch fifteen minutes fast.  Tom was nervously preparing himself for the ordeal.  He fidgeted himself into his best