This is a curious world, and the most curious part of it is the Church.  While he stayed we grumbled at him.  Now he leaves we grumble because he is going.

I first heard of this matter a couple of weeks ago.  No.  Some rumors of what was threatened were in the air last summer.  One Sabbath, in our congregation, were three gentlemen, in one of whom I recognised my friend, Mr. Eccles, of the—­street Presbyterian Church of New York City.  He was there again the second Sabbath.  It was rumored then that he was on a tour of inspection.  But I paid little attention to the rumor.  In October, our pastor takes his vacation.  I thought it a little strange that he should spend half of it in New York, and seek rest from preaching in his own pulpit by repeating his sermons in a metropolitan church.  But I knew the state of his purse.  I therefore gave very little heed to the gossip which my wife repeated to me, and which she had picked up in the open market.  For Sunday is market day, and the church is the market for village gossip in Wheathedge.  And Jennie, who is constitutionally averse to change, was afraid we were going to lose our pastor, and said as much.  But I laughed at her fears.

However, the result proved that the gossips were, for once, right.  About two weeks ago, Mr. and Mrs. Work came into my house in a high state of subdued excitement.  Mr. Work handed me a letter.  It was a call to the—­street Presbyterian Church in New York—­salary $4000 a year.  It was accompanied by a glowing portraiture of the present and prospective usefulness which this field opened.  The church was situated in a part of the city where there were few or no churches.  The ward had a population of over fifty thousand, a large majority of whom attended no church.  More than half were Protestants.  There was a grand field for Sabbath-school labor.  The church was thoroughly united.  Its financial condition was satisfactory, and its prospects encouraging.  And the hearts of the people had been led to unite as one man upon Mr. Work.

“I cannot but think,” said Mr. Work, “that it is Providential.  The position is entirely unsought.  Yet I do not really feel equal to a place of such importance.  I am sensible how much wider is the sphere of usefulness.  But am I able to fill it?  That is the question.”

“Well, for my part,” said Mrs. Work, “I confess that I am mercenary.  There is a great deal of difference between $1,200 and $4,000 a year.  It will put us at our ease at once.  And just think what advantages for the children.”

They wanted my advice.  At least they said so.  It is my private opinion that they wanted me to advise them to go.  I told them I would think about it and tell them the result the next week.  They agreed meanwhile to wait.

There were two considerations which operated on their minds, one usefulness, the other salary.  I undertook to measure those two considerations.

The very next day gave me an opportunity to investigate the former.  I met my friend Mr. Eccles at Delmonico’s.  We talked over the affairs of his church at the table.