s reconstruction
that, at the end of seven years on Cape Cod, my soul sent forth a sudden
call to arms. I was, it reminded me, taking life too easily; I was
in danger of settling into an agreeable routine. The work of my two
churches made little drain on my superabundant vitality, and not
even the winning of a medical degree and the increasing demands of my
activities on the lecture platform wholly eased my conscience. I was
happy, for I loved my people and they seemed to love me. It would have
been pleasant to go on almost indefinitely, living the life of a country
minister and telling myself that what I could give to my flock made such
a life worth while.

But all the time, deep in my heart, I realized the needs of the outside
world, and heard its prayer for workers. My theological and medical
courses in Boston, with the experiences that accompanied them, had
greatly widened my horizon. Moreover, at my invitation, many of the
noble women of the day were coming to East Dennis to lecture, bringing
with them the stirring atmosphere of the conflicts they were waging.
One of the first of these was my friend Mary A. Livermore; and after her
came Julia Ward Howe, Anna Garlin Spencer, Lucy Stone, Mary F. Eastman,
and many others, each charged with inspiration for my people and with
a special message for me, which she sent forth unknowingly and which
I alone heard. They were fighting great battles, these women--for
suffrage, for temperance, for social purity--and in every word they
uttered I heard a rallying-cry. So it was that, in 1885, I suddenly
pulled myself up to a radical decision and sent my resignation to the
trustees of the two churches whose pastor I had been since 1878.

The action caused a demonstration of regret which made it hard to keep
to my resolution and leave these men and women whose friendship was
among the dearest of my possessions. But when we had all talked things
over, many of them saw the situation as I did. No doubt there were
those, too, who felt that a change of ministry would be good for the
churches. During the weeks that followed my resignation I received many
odd tributes, and of these one of the most amusing came from a young
girl in the parish, who broke into loud protests when she heard that I
was going away. To comfort her I predicted that she would now have a man
minister--doubtless a very nice man. But the young person continued to
sniffle disconsolately.

"I don't want a man," she wai