“We are not asking you to preach the doctrine,” they said, “all we ask is that you become our pastor; you are at liberty to preach your own convictions.” But he was not on the market. Another interesting experience during this pastorate came as the sequel to a horse trade. One of his neighbors, a brother in the Church, coveted his fine driving horse, and bantered him for a trade. “I have the very horse you need,” he urged, and offered what seemed to be a fair bargain. And after the usual ceremonies and preliminaries, the deal was pulled off. The next day being Sunday, the pastor hitched up his new horse early, and taking his wife and babe, started for his appointment. The animal soon showed signs of treachery, arousing the suspicions of its owner, but they went on. They got on quite well until they came to a low swale in the road over which the water stood several inches deep. When they were about half-way across, the horse stopped and looked back to see if they were coming. But they had also stopped. Newgent, who had some knowledge of “horseology,” saw that they were in for it. It being a warm, summer day, an innumerable multitude of mosquitoes soon collected to express their sympathy and to divert the attention of the unfortunate family from their troubles. “Here’s a chance to show that we can keep sweet,” said the preacher to his wife, “even under trying circumstances.” The circumstances were indeed trying, for he spent a couple of hours trying to argue the horse out of his position, but the horse was not open to conviction. At the same time he was making a desperate effort to keep sweet, which, with the mosquitoes diligently plying their trade—as it was too good a business opportunity for them to let pass—and the hour for the morning service passing, was not as easy a task as it would have been under less trying circumstances. “Well,” he finally said to his wife, sweetly, “we are going out of here.” “When?” was her meek reply.