A man’s religious convictions are most important.  I remember in October, 1882, what criticism and abuse there was of my friend Henry Ward Beecher, when he decided to resign from the religious associations of which he was a member.  I was asked by members of the press to give my opinion, but I was out when they called.  Mr. Beecher was right.  He was a man of courage and of heart.  I shall never forget the encouragement and goodwill he extended to me, when I first came to Brooklyn in 1869 and took charge of a broken-down church.  Mr. Beecher did just as I would have done under the same circumstances.  I could not nor would stay in the denomination to which I belonged any longer than it would take me to write my resignation, if I disbelieved its doctrines.  Mr. Beecher’s theology was very different from mine, but he did not differ from me in the Christian life, any more than I differed from him.  He never interfered with me, nor I with him.  Every little while some of the ministers of America were attacked by a sort of Beecher-phobia, and they foamed at the mouth over something that the pastor of Plymouth Church said.  People who have small congregations are apt to dislike a preacher who has a full church.  For thirteen years, or more, Beecher’s church and mine never collided.  He had more people than he knew what to do with, and so had I. I belonged to the company of the orthodox, but if I thought that orthodoxy demanded that I must go and break other people’s heads I would not remain orthodox five minutes.  Brooklyn was called the city of churches, but it could also be called the city of short pastorates.  Many of the churches, during fifteen years of my pastorate, had two, three, and four pastors.  Dr. Scudder came and went; so did Dr. Patten, Dr. Frazer, Dr. Buckley, Dr. Mitchell, Dr. Reid, Dr. Steele, Dr. Gallagher, and a score of others.  The Methodist Church was once famous for keeping a minister only three or four years, but it is no longer peculiar in this respect.  Mr. Beecher had been pastor for thirty-six years in Brooklyn when, in the summer of 1883, he celebrated the anniversary of his seventieth birthday.

Every now and then, for many years, there was an investigation of some sort in Brooklyn.  Our bridge was a favourite target of investigation.  “Where has the money for this great enterprise been expended?” was the common question.  I defended the trustees, because people did not realise the emergencies that arose as the work progressed and entailed greater expenditures.  Originally, when projected, it was to cost $7,000,000, but there was to be only one waggon road.  It was resolved later to enlarge the structure and build two waggon roads, and a place for trains, freight, and passenger cars.  Those enlarged plans were all to the ultimate advantage of the growth of Brooklyn.  It was at first intended to make the approaches of the bridge in trestle work, then plans were changed and they were built of granite.  The cable, which was originally to be made of iron,