Of course before the day was over the substance in the sermon had been reported throughout the town, and did not fail to reach the man’s ears. Monday morning Mr. Beecher went to the post-office immediately after breakfast, and must go right by the hotel around which this man would most likely be hanging. He got his mail and turned to come home. As he passed the hotel there were several standing by, evidently watching for some development. At that moment the man came down the steps with a pistol in his hand. “Did you say thus and so in your sermon yesterday?” “I did.” “Did you intend those remarks for me, or were you meaning me?” “I most certainly did.” “Then take it back right here, or by ——— I’ll shoot you on the spot.” “Shoot away,” was the reply, as, looking the ruffian sternly in the face, Mr. Beecher calmly, with deliberate step, walked past the man. With pointed pistol and fierce oaths the man followed for a few paces, when, baffled by the imperturbable coolness of his opponent, he slunk away down a side-street, ashamed to return to the hotel. Mr. Beecher himself has given us an account of another similar event: “I remember that in Indianapolis there was a meeting called for the enforcement of the laws against gamblers and against grog-selling, at which I was requested to address mechanics and laborers; and some of these violators of the law were there. A man named Bishop, and others of that stamp, were in the meeting to hear what was going to be said. They were the very men that we were aiming at. I was much excited. There were gambling-dens and liquor-saloons where young men were induced to drink and form bad habits, and were in danger of being dragged down to destruction; and I expressed myself plainly, and pointed to Bishop, who sat on a back seat, and denounced him to his face. There was a lively time, if I recollect right; and he gave out the next day that when he and I met one or the other of us was going to be whipped. I went down the street soon after, and I had forgotten all about it until I was right in front of his shop. He was a bully. He watched me as I came down, and I confess that my first thought was a wish that I was not there; but then it would never do for me to flinch, and I walked as though I did not see him till I came close to him, when I turned and looked at him. He thought I was going to attack him, and waited a moment; I bowed and said, ‘Good-morning, Mr. Bishop,’ and passed on. He would not run after me and hit me, and so the affair blew over.