"So have you done a lot of good, John; you don't know either." The farmer tried again. "You have helped me more than you know." "I'm glad, John, because you have helped me more than _you_ know." "Oh, come; you know what I mean!" "Well, don't you know what I mean?" "Yes, I think I do. I've been listening pretty close to your sermons and so have a lot of others. I have managed to talk with a good many church people since it was known that you were going; just common plugs in the congregation, like me, you know." Dan smiled. "We all understand what you have been driving at in your preaching, and we know pretty well what the bosses think about it, and why they have let you out. No one takes any stock in that foul gossip, not even Strong himself. Now what I came to say is this: a lot of us want you to stay. Why can't we have another church for our people right here in Corinth? There's enough of us to back you, and we mean business." Dan shook his head sadly. "Thank you, John," he said simply. "It is useless for me to try to tell you how much good this does me; but I can't accept. I have thought of the possibility you mention, but I can't do it. You do not need another church in Corinth. You have more than you need now." Nor could any argument move him. "Well," said the farmer, when at last he gave it up and rose to say good-bye, "I suppose I'll keep right on being a church member, but I reckon I'll have to find most of my religion in my work." "And that," said Dan, as he gripped his friend's hand, "is the best place I know of to look for it. If you cannot find God in your everyday work, John, you'll not find Him on Sunday at the church." That farewell sermon is still talked about in Corinth or rather--it should be said--is still remembered, for it was one of those sermons of which, while little could be said, much could never be forgotten. And the picture of the big lad, whose strong, clean-looking body drooped so as if in great weariness; whose frank open countenance was marked with drawn lines; in whose clear brown eyes were shadows of trouble and pain; whose voice betrayed the sadness of a mighty soul, will also remain long in the memory of those who were there that evening.