TE

HE Reverend Walter Hayes walked back and forth between the closed door and the filing-cabinet in the prosperity-breathing office of George Landis, the banker. As he walked he smiled, the smile of one who has seen the light after groping in darkness with forlorn and dying hope.

The Reverend Hayes was in Globe City for the purpose of preaching a series of trial sermons at none other than the Broadway Church. For a young minister not yet thirty years old to aspire to this pulpit might appear absurd. In fact, it had begun to appear hopelessly so to the Reverend Hayes; but now he smiled. He smiled broadly as he thought of his sermons of the past two weeks, those theoretical and erudite sermons that he had prepared with such labored diligence

and such intricate care, which had fallen so painfully flat before the hard-headed business and professional men who controlled the destinies of the Broadway Church. Vainly he had hoped to equal the brilliance and learning of those who had been established in this august pulpit in former years.

But now a path toward success was opening for him that had been closed even to them. He turned to the banker.

"Then you think that the congregation would prefer practical sermons of current importance?" he asked by way of emphasizing the information that pleased him.

"Absolutely," answered the banker, leaning forward and looking at Hayes over the top of his glasses. "With all due respect for our former ministers, this

church needs a live wire, a young man of the world as well as a preacher. We want a practical man. That is why we brought you here on trial for this church."

Hayes did not feel called upon to deny the obvious truth of his practical and worldly qualifications.

The banker scratched on a writing-pad as if trying to preserve his most apt phrases. "The men in our church are wide-awake fellows that do things. They want to hear talks on live, interesting subjects-things of importance sermons that will give a man something to think about."

He arose, beaming, and escorted the younger man to the door of the office. To give advice was Mr. Landis's business, his duty and, in fact, his pleasure.

'Then the needs of this church coincide perfectly with my peculiar fitness,' thought Hayes to himself, and walked jubilantly home searching his store of knowledge for subjects that would touch the pocketbooks and peace of mind of this very practical congregation. Their impression of his next two or three sermons would determine whether or not he would be installed as the minister of the Broadway Church.

"Yes, as Mr. Landis said, I must give them something to think about," said he to himself, "something important enough to use for the pending crucial sermons." He rummaged through his experiences gained among men of different walks of life; he called upon his knowledge of sociology, and upon his large fund of general information for fitting themes.

There was one subject of current importance that stood out and away from all the others. It was one in which Hayes was particularly interested, and one to which he had already given hours of close study. It was so large that it should furnish material, not only for the next sermon, but for others. This was the subject of the crime wave, a comprehensive one to say the least.

By the end of his hour he had succeeded in presenting the horrible enormity of the crime wave. Since there was no time left to suggest its remedies, he promised such a sermon for the following Sunday. He would deal with combating crime within the very precincts of Globe City. Certainly they could hope for nothing more practical or of greater importance than this.

When the wide church doors swung open to emit the impressed congregation, the immaculate Mr. Hayes was there to bow them on their way.

"Oh, Mr. Hayes, your sermon was adorable!" gushed Miss Ella Smith, looking up soulfully. Miss Smith had been a power in the Young Ladies' Organization for twenty-five years, and her opinion was to be respected.

smiled Hayes. "I hope you approve of my plan for talking on crime prevention here in Globe City for next Sunday's sermon?" "I think you will handle it very well, and I wish you success.'

Mr. Henry, the grocer, came majestically forward, appearing in his church clothes much more ministerial than Hayes.

"The statistics that you brought out are enough to excite any imagination. They indicate a perilous situation," he said grandly. "You are sounding a clarion note, Mr. Hayes." The grocer moved away, tipping his silk hat at every opportunity.

Mrs. Barlow, the lawyer's wife, stopped with a righteous smile.

"I hope you will bring out in your next sermon the lawlessness of buying whiskey

has needed a wide-awake man of the world for a long time. I think you have caught on to the idea all right," and the banker smiled knowingly to remind Hayes of the part he had played in pointing out the path. Flicking the ashes from his cigar, the banker walked down to his waiting limousine.

Gradually the glistening line of cars moved away from the curb, carrying with them the colorful array of bright dresses, multi-hued hats, dark suits, frock coats, and derbies of the well-to-do congregation.

The Reverend Walter Hayes was left to drive triumphantly home with his wife. "I believe they liked your sermon, Walter," she said quietly.

Hayes smiled complacently. He lit his pipe-something that he seldom did on

the street, where the growing boys might cite the example. The sun shone down reflecting cheerfully on the pavement. The birds sang in the leafy trees, and a soft breeze stirred through the car. Hayes chuckled softly, as if thinking of genius and effort rewarded. "Genius is a God-given trait, but effort is tiring and consequently must be taken in moderation," he was unconsciously telling himself.

After dinner as they sat comfortably in their living-room, Hayes idly glanced over a day-old letter from his friend Tom Wilson:

"DEAR DOC,

Chuck, Swede, Hank, and I are leaving Kansas City Monday on the one and only train for Linn Hill. We will pursue the elusive trout and entice the wary bass until our hearts are content. The Ozark air will take the dust out of your brain and leave you with brilliant ideas for sermons. So, put on your oldest and dirtiest and meet our train at Cole's Junction. The train service is excellent, there being one back every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, whether you need it or not. They connect with the limited back to Globe City-if they are lucky. I will warn the boys not to cuss too much, so come on. Yours,

TOM."

The letter that had been thrown down with a laugh the day before was now handled thoughtfully.

"It might be well for me to go down to the Ozarks with the boys after all," he said finally.

"And leave the church all week?" his wife asked surprised.

"The only way in the world to keep up on the things that confront practical people is to get away from the protection of the church once in a while. Mixing around as a man among men is the way to learn and keep your mind clear," Hayes explained.

"Do you think you'll learn anything from those fellows?" she asked doubtfully.

"Certainly! Next Sunday I am going to preach on combating crime in Globe City. That is a subject that requires a

practical knowledge of a lot of definite facts. Some of them I'm a little hazy on. Well, Chuck is a criminal lawyer and can give me valuable information on the subject. Those other chaps will have ideas too. There is nothing like a general discussion of a subject around a campfire at night to bring out ideas-clear-cut ideas-free from old-fogy notions."

"But something might happen to keep you from getting back. You might miss your train at the Junction," she argued as a last hope. "If you failed to be here next Sunday it would be awful. You would certainly lose your chance for keeping the church."

"Yes, but I can come back Thursday to make sure of being here," he explained, and the argument was closed.

But when Thursday came, the discussions on crime prevention held around the Ozark camp-fire were still at their height. "Chuck," the criminal lawyer, had gleaned his ideas on the causes of crime and its possible remedies, as well as his information on the characteristics of criminals, from actual contact with them. "Hank" and "Swede" had each had a friend that was later sent to the penitentiary, and they all had ideas. Basing the ideas brought out in these discussions on his rather extensive knowledge of sociology and psychology, Hayes was able to reach amazing and clear-cut conclusions. The nature and characteristics of criminals, he divined, were so simple that any one could learn to recognize them and thereby protect himself. He should be able to assist the machinery of justice in putting them behind prison bars. What chance would a few criminals have against a whole community of discerning and watchful citizens? This would indeed be comforting information to his Globe City congregation.

It is little wonder, then, that one who was in the midst of working out such gratifying and inspiring facts as these should not leave the source of valuable contributory information until the work was finished.

As a result, it was not until Saturday that the Kansas City local, coughing and wheezing its way out of the rock and acorn country of the Upper Ozarks, brought with it the Reverend Walter