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Excerpt from The Christian League of Connecticut
Albion. The other was perhaps a little younger, with dark skin, full beard, and bright, black eye; his figure was slight but well made, and he wore a gray ulster, and a sealskin cap without a visor; a journalist, you would have said, or perhaps an artist, and would have been wrong again; for he was the Rev. Theodore Strong, pastor of the Second Congregational Church in the same thriving town. The cashier, Mr. Franklin, was his parishioner, and had been his college class mate; the old friendship had been the cause of the minister's location in his present pastorate, and was now one of its strong supports. Old Major, the good gray horse, had learned well the way to the parsonage, before which he used often to halt after banking hours; whence the parson, if he was to be had, was whirled away for a breezy hour or two on the country roads. These drives with his old friend were unadulterated recreation. It was a distinct understanding between them that the cares of the bank and the parish were always to be left behind.
No shop, now, old fellow! Franklin had said when he came for his friend the first time; religion and business ought to be mixed some times, no doubt; but, for you and me, just now, rest is both business and religion.
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