Wheathedge, Oct. 9th.

“Dear Sir,—­A meeting of the male members of the congregation of the Calvary Presbyterian Church will be held on Thursday evening, at 8 P. M., at the house of Mr. Wheaton.  You are respectfully invited to be present.

“Yours, Respectfully,

“James Wheaton, “Ch’n.  B’d.  Trustees.”

“Well,” said I to myself, “I wonder what this means.  It can’t be a male sewing society, I suppose.  It can hardly be a prayer-meeting at Jim Wheaton’s house.  Male members! eh?  I thought the female members carried on this church.”  In my perplexity, I handed the note to my wife.  She read it with care.  “Well,” said she, “I am glad the people are waking up at last.”  “What does it mean?” said I.  “It means money,” said she.  “Or rather it means the want of money.  Mrs. Work told me last week she believed her husband would have to resign.  All last quarter’s salary is overdue, and something beside.  It seems that Mr. Wheaton has begun to act, at last.  I don’t see what they want to make such men church officers for.”

My wife has not very clear ideas about the legal relations which exist between the Church and the Society.  Mr. Wheaton is an officer, not of the church but of the society; but I did not think it worth while to correct the mistake.

“I do want to think kindly of every body,” said Jennie; “but it makes me indignant to see a minister defrauded of his dues.”

“Defrauded is a pretty strong word, Jennie,” said I.

“It is a true word,” said she.  “The people promise the minister $1200 a year, and then pay him grudgingly $900, and don’t finally make up the other $300 till he threatens to resign; if that is not defrauding, I don’t know what is.  If Mr. Wheaton can’t make the Board of Trustees keep their promises any better than that, he had better resign.  I wish he would.”

Mr. Wheaton is not a member of the church; and, to tell the truth, his reputation for success is greater than his reputation for integrity.  But he is president of the Koniwasset branch railroad, and a leading director of the Koniwasset coal mines, and a large operator in stocks, and lives in one of the finest houses in Wheathedge, and keeps the handsomest carriage, and hires the most expensive pew, and it was considered quite a card, I believe, to get him to take the presidency of the Board of Trustees.

“Of course you’ll go, John,” said Jennie.

“I don’t know about that, Jennie,” said I.  “I don’t want to get mixed up with our church finances in their present condition.”

“I don’t know how they are ever to get in a better condition, John,” said she, “unless some men like you do get mixed up with them.”

Jennie, as usual, knew me better than I knew myself.  I went.  I was delayed just as I was starting away, and so, contrary to my custom—­for I rather pride myself on being a very punctual man—­I was a little late.  The male members of the Calvary Presbyterian Congregation were already assembled in Mr. James Wheaton’s library when I arrived.  I was a little surprised to see how few male members we had.  To look round the congregation on Sunday morning, one would certainly suppose there were more.  It even seems to me there were at least twice as many at the sewing society when it met at James Wheaton’s last winter.