“Why does the Church send out such men to preach?” he asked himself as he walked slowly homeward. “This man’s intentions, no doubt, are good, but his education is wofully deficient, and he does not seem to understand the first rudiment of oratory. The ecclesiastical body that put him in this responsible position are more censurable than he is. What a grand text he had! If a man could preach at all, it does seem that he could get a splendid sermon out of that passage. I believe I could do it myself. Let me see. There is that old college speech of mine--Man was made to mourn,--it would apply admirably to the first head. Look abroad over the world. How many things there are which are calculated to trouble the heart. Of all this the preacher never said a word. I moved an audience to tears with the same subject when there was nothing but human sympathy to which I could appeal. But with the precious hopes and promises of the gospel in his hands, he put a portion of his congregation to sleep. Then there are the blessed mansions which the Savior promised to His true followers. ‘I go to prepare a place for you,’ said our Lord. Why there is a grand sermon in that one brief sentence. ‘I go,’ said Christ. Where did He go? Why did He go? Why did He not remain forever on earth? The answer is, that He might send the Comforter. Then, for what purpose did He go? To prepare mansions for all true believers. What a glorious thought! What does He prepare? A place. Then the conclusion is, that heaven is a tangible locality. For whom is He preparing a place? ‘For you.’ But the disciples stood there as the representatives of all true believers for all time. So I should have said, had I been in that preacher’s place to-day: ‘Brethren, Jesus says I am preparing a place for you.’ Then I would go on to describe this blessed place from intimations thrown out in the Bible itself. There are the shining city, the jasper walls, the golden streets, the crystal river, the Trees of Life, the Great White Throne, and the mighty multitude which no man can number. With these grand and sublime thoughts in easy reach, the preacher never said one word to brighten our hopes and strengthen our faith. But instead of producing such an effect, he threw us into a state of stupid, half-unconsciousness. What a failure!” Presently, while Ernest was musing in this loose, random way, a voice--a “still, small voice,” as it were, seemed to come out of the atmosphere, and ask: “_Why not then preach yourself?_” It was the fiery finger of destiny flashing before him, and Ernest was startled. He answered, almost speaking in audible tones: “Because I am not qualified. I have no call to such work. I am a lawyer. I do not know how to preach.” “But you have just preached a sermon,” quickly answered the voice. “I only _thought_ what the preacher might have said,” replied Ernest. “Then why not speak your thoughts to a congregation?” asked the mysterious voice.