r a minister that was an unpardonable sin. The
"interests" determined to cripple me or destroy my work. This they did
successfully by the medium of a subsidized press and other means, fair
and foul. It was a case of a city against one man--a rich city against
a poor man and the man went down to defeat--apparent defeat, anyway: I
packed my belongings and left. As I crossed the bridge which spans the
river I looked on the little squatter colony on "the bottoms" and as
my career there passed in review, for the second time in my life I was
stricken with home-sickness and I was guilty of what my manhood might
have been ashamed of--tears.

CHAPTER XIV

MY FIGHT IN NEW HAVEN

The experiences of 1894, '5 and '6 gave me a distaste--really a
disgust--with public life I felt that I would never enter a large city
again. I sought retirement in a country parish; this was secured for
me by my friend, the president of Tabor College, the Rev. Richard
Cecil Hughes.

It was in a small town in Iowa--Avoca in Pottawattomie County; I
stayed there a year.

In 1897 I was in Cleveland, Ohio, in charge of an institution called
The Friendly Inn; a very good name if the place had been an inn or
friendly. My inability to make it either forced me to leave it before
I had been there many months. It was in Cleveland that I first joined
a labour union. I was a member of what was called a Federal Labour
Union and was elected its representative to the central body of the
union movement.

Early in 1898 I was in Springfield, Mass., delivering a series of
addresses to a Bible school there. My funds ran out and not being in
receipt of any remuneration and, not caring to make my condition
known, I was forced for the first time in my life to become a
candidate for a church. There were two vacant pulpits and I went after
both of them. Meantime I boarded with a few students who, like their
ancestors, had "plenty of nothing but gospel."

They lived on seventy-five cents a week. Living was largely a matter
of scripture texts, hope and imagination. I used to breakfast through
my eyes at the beautiful lotus pond in the park. We lunched usually on
soup that was a constant reminder of the soul of Tomlinson of Berkeley
Square. Quantitively speaking, supper was the biggest meal of the
day--it was a respite also for our imaginations.

The day of my candidacy arrived. I was prepared to play that most
despicable of all ecclesiastical tricks--making an im