Entwined in the pastoral work, were many social pleasures that made my body strong and rested my nerves: adventures over the high hills for soul-subduing vistas of mountains and lakes; trout fries by the side of meadow brooks; picnics by the river; visits to bark-peeling camps, over corduroy roads, and encampment on a lake shore where at night the wild birds gave voice and were interpreted to us by a guide. The golden-rod lined the dusty road at last, and the purple flowers took the place of the lighter summer ones, and it was time for me to return to the Seminary. The services were crowded that last Sunday; mothers brought their babies and did not care if the little ones did compete with me, in voice. I knew what was in the faces, as they looked intently on me, as I preached. They were thinking that this would probably be the last preaching they would hear until the following summer, unless some stray, itinerant evangelist strolled that way and opened up the schoolhouse for an evening. There were many tearful farewells, and then the people went out into the night. It was a clear night of stars and chill. As I left the schoolhouse, having bade good-bye to the janitor, for I was due to leave on the next morning’s stage, a young farmer stepped out from the deep shadow of an oak near the flag-staff and accosted me with, “Say, Elder, do you care to go up the road a piece?” I responded that I should enjoy a walk and a chat with him. While we walked between two walls of trees, our way dimly outlined by the faint flicker of the stars, my friend said, “I’m one of the bashful sort, Elder. You know that; but I didn’t want you to leave without having me tell you how much you have helped my folks this summer. The time you come in our house and played and sang at the organ for us, and cheered us up with a laugh, why it made things different in our house. Since mother died, we’ve been having a hard row to hoe, and you don’t know how much we’ve appreciated the cheering up you give us. It gets terrible lonesome out here through the winter, and I want to thank you for all that you’ve done!” We took a long walk through the night, paying no attention to distance; but sharing confidences in true brotherly fashion. Then we turned about and when we came to the crossroad, in front of the schoolhouse, we clasped hands, and as he hurried, without another word, into the darkness towards his motherless home, I felt something crisp in the palm of my hand. When I returned to my room and had a light I found that he had given me a dollar bill for a thank offering.