He had two days to prepare his first sermon and unpack his trunk, his bags, and the books which he had purchased in Zenith.
His possessions were not very consistent. He had a beautiful new morning coat, three excellent lounge suits, patent leather shoes, a noble derby, a flourishing top hat, but he had only two suits of underclothes, both ragged. His socks were of black silk, out at the toes. For breast-pocket display, he had silk handkerchiefs; but for use, only cotton rags torn at the hem. He owned perfume, hair-oil, talcum powder; his cuff links were of solid gold; but for dressing-gown he used his overcoat; his slippers were a frowsy pulp; and the watch which he carried on a gold and platinum chain was a one-dollar alarm clock.
He had laid in a fruitful theological library. He had bought the fifty volumes of the Expositors' Bible—source of ready-made sermons—secondhand for $13.75. He had the sermons of Spurgeon, Jefferson, Brooks, and J. Wilbur Chapman. He was willing to be guided by these masters, and not insist on forcing his own ideas on the world. He had a very useful book by Bishop Aberman, "The Very Appearance of Evil," advising young preachers to avoid sin. Elmer felt that this would be unusually useful in his new life.
He had a dictionary—he liked to look at the colored plates depicting jewels, flags, plants, and aquatic birds; he had a Bible dictionary, a concordance, a history of the Methodist Church, a history of Protestant missions, commentaries on the individual books of the Bible, an outline of theology, and Dr. Argyle's "The Pastor and His Flock," which told how to increase church collections, train choirs, take exercise, placate deacons, and make pasteboard models of Solomon's Temple to lead the little ones to holiness in the Sunday School.
In fact he had had a sufficient library—"God's artillery in
