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After the formal conference, she welcomed the members at her own house, talked with them, and heard of their doings.
Her eyes kindled as she heard of the Wayside Chapel (of Malden, Massachusetts) built by its pastor, Mrs. E. M. Bruce, who was also its trustee, janitor, choir, and preacher; heard how for thirteen years this lady had rung the bell every evening for vesper service, and had never lacked a congregation: or of the other woman who was asked “very diffidently” if she would conduct the funeral services of an honest and upright man who had died of drink, owing to an inherited tendency.
“They had expected to have it in the undertaker's rooms,” said the Reverend Florence Buck, of Wisconsin, “but we had it in my own church.
It was packed with people of all sorts, who had been interested in him; and the Bartenders' Union were there in a body.... It was an opportunity that I would not have given up to preach to the President and Senate of the United States.
Next day... they said, ‘We expected she'd wallop us to hell; but she talked to us like a mother!’
”
Then she turned to the president, and said, “The woman minister is often lonely.
I want to thank Mrs. Howe, who welcomed me at the beginning of my ministry.
Her hand-clasp has stayed with me ever since.”
Our mother was never ordained: it is doubtful whether she ever contemplated such a step; but she felt herself consecrated to the work; wherever she was asked to preach, she went as if on wings, feeling this call more sacred than any other.
She preached in all
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