of letters. He was reading
one when Mr. Beecher happened to come in and read what otherwise he
would not have seen:

"Reverend Henry Ward Beecher.

"Dear Sir:

"I journeyed over from my New York hotel yesterday morning to hear you
preach, expecting, of course, to hear an exposition of the gospel of
Jesus Christ. Instead, I heard a political harangue, with no reason or
cohesion in it. You made an ass of yourself.

"Very truly yours, __ __.

"That's to the point," commented Mr. Beecher with a smile; and then
seating himself at his desk, he turned the sheet over and wrote:

My Dear Sir:--

"I am sorry you should have taken so long a journey to hear Christ
preached, and then heard what you are polite enough to call a 'political
harangue.' I am sorry, too, that you think I made an ass of myself. In
this connection I have but one consolation: that you didn't make an ass
of yourself. The Lord did that."

"Henry Ward Beecher.

When the Reverend T. De Witt Talmage began to come into public notice in
Brooklyn, some of Mr. Beecher's overzealous followers unwisely gave the
impression that the Plymouth preacher resented sharing with another the
pulpit fame which he alone had so long unquestioningly held. Nothing, of
course, was further from Mr. Beecher's mind. As a matter of fact, the
two men were exceedingly good friends. Mr. Beecher once met Doctor
Talmage in a crowded business thoroughfare, where they got so deeply
interested in each other's talk that they sat down in some chairs
standing in front of a furniture store. A gathering throng of intensely
amused people soon brought the two men to the realization that they had
better move. Then Mr. Beecher happened to see that back of their heads
had been, respectively, two signs: one reading, "This style $3.45," the
other, "This style $4.25."

"Well," said Mr. Beecher, as he and Doctor Talmage walked away laughing,
"I was ticketed higher than you, Talmage, anyhow."

"You're worth more," rejoined Doctor Talmage.

On another occasion, as the two men met they began to bandy each other.

"Now, Talmage," said Mr. Beecher, his eyes twinkling, "let's have it
out. My people say that Plymouth holds more people than the Tabernacle,
and your folks stand up for the Tabernacle. Now which is it? What is
your estimate?"

"Well, I should say that the Tabernacle holds about fifteen thousand
people," said Doctor Talmage with a smile.

"Good," said Mr. Beecher, at once catching the s