The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-08-31
Greatest Sermons Often Were Delivered
 .Impromptu
Rx FRANKI.IN P. sErI.ERs

By FRANKLIN P. SELLERS
 s NEW YORK, August SO.-Henry Ward Beecher, whom I knew well, was most interesting companion, a good teller of stories, many of which I have swapped with him in the days long gone by. He was not in any true sense q vain man, except in regard to his big slouch hat and his Inverness coat. His laugh was infectious, and he could do more laughing on the smallest pro- vocation than any man I ever knew.
 Going over some of my treasures few days ago came across the photo graph from which the cut of Mir. Beech CT on this page is made. Mfr, Beecher gave me the photograph at least thirty five years ago. He had a sad side to his nature, sad for the trials of others.
 For a number of years I visited Henry Ward Beecher in his home on Columbia Heights, particularly on Sunday mornings, when my errand was to get a syllabus of his morning ser mon; which was given to the paper on which was at that time employed. One Sunday morning in early October. q few years before his death, I rang the bell at the Beecher home at Co., lumbia, Heights. The bell <,was aI,- swered by Mrs. Beecher, who when she saw me called out: Henry, here's Sel- iers again"
 From the room on the parlor floor whichthe distinguished preacher made his own heard that wonderful voice call out: Come in.''
 will never forget the peculiar scene. Mir. Beecher had not yet risen although he told me he had been awake for some time. It was ten minutes past ten o'clock and he was due in his pull pit at half-past ten.
 Well, what do you want?" said Mfr. Beecher. 'SThis is no time to be both ering me-" he said with laugh.
 ''I want the usual notes of your morning sermon," answered.
 T have no sermon" he replied, 'but l have bully good text, God Is Love l guess I will get up now. 70 to my pulpit, and see what can do with it, You can make your own notes this morning. l am afraid l shall not have any"
 Tells Story En Route
 The writer walked to tha churcb with Mir. Beecher and he was quite thoughtful all the way, although he took time to tell a story which was suggested by little pools of water in tne gutters from showers of the night oefore. lie enJoyedea story at his own expense as much as he did any.
 Not so long ago." he said, Ion my way to church there was a boy scraping mud In the gutter near the church. and he was making a sort of inclos- ure with straight lines of mud on four sides and a special heap in front.p
 What are you making, my little man! Mir Beecher said to the boy. The great preacher was very fond of
 Tin making church. Don't yOu know a church when you see one?" ..5 4es, see now, but where's the preacher? l see you have made the
 @lll make him if have mud enough" said the boy.
 T don't remember when I have laughed so heartily" said Mir. Beecher. certainly got what went after.O
 l went into the church to hear. the sermon on God Is Love-" wonderine what it would be like when given with apparently no preparation. heard such q discourse on the theme as [ had never heard before and can hard ly hope to hear again. He was force ful and eloquent, more so than ususI l thought, and said some things which in these days of religious controyersv would have arraigned him before the fundamentalists, but this did not worry him at any time, for lie was always doing it from strong conviction, he be- ing fifty years ahead of his time. There never was boider man in the utter