pride made prompt action necessary. By the time we gathered
for the third prayermeeting I had decided what to do, and before the
services began I rose and addressed my erring children. I explained that
the character of the prayers at our recent meetings was making us the
laughingstock of the community, that unbelievers were ridiculing our
religion, and that the discipline of the church was being wrecked; and I
ended with these words, each of which I had carefully weighed:

"Now one of two things must happen. Either you will stop this kind
of praying, or you will remain away from our meetings. We will hold
prayermeetings on another night, and I shall refuse admission to any
among you who bring personal criticisms into your public prayers."

As I had expected it to do, the announcement created an immediate
uproar. Both factions sprang to their feet, trying to talk at once. The
storm raged until I dismissed the congregation, telling the members that
their conduct was an insult to the Lord, and that I would not listen to
either their protests or their prayers. They went unwillingly, but they
went; and the excitement the next day raised the sick from their beds to
talk of it, and swept the length and breadth of Cape Cod. The following
Sunday the little church held the largest attendance in its history.
Seemingly, every man and woman in town had come to hear what more I
would say about the trouble, but I ignored the whole matter. I preached
the sermon I had prepared, the subject of which was as remote from
church quarrels as our atmosphere was remote from peace, and my
congregation dispersed with expressions of such artless disappointment
that it was all I could do to preserve a dignified gravity.

That night, however, the war was brought into my camp. At the evening
meeting the leader of one of the factions rose to his feet with the
obvious purpose of starting trouble. He was a retired sea-captain, of
the ruthless type that knocks a man down with a belaying-pin, and
he made his attack on me in a characteristically "straight from the
shoulder" fashion. He began with the proposition that my morning sermon
had been "entirely contrary to the Scriptures," and for ten minutes
he quoted and misquoted me, hammering in his points. I let him go on
without interruption. Then he added:

"And this gal comes to this church and undertakes to tell us how we
shall pray. That's a highhanded measure, and I, for one, ain't goin' to
stand it