[Illustration: RUSSELL H CONWELL]

RUSSELL H. CONWELL

Founder of the Institutional Church in America

THE WORK AND THE MAN

BY

AGNES RUSH BURR

With His Two Famous Lectures as Recently Delivered, entitled "Acres ofDiamonds, " and "Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women"

With an Appreciative Introduction by FLOYD W. TOMKINS, D. D. , LL. D. 

1905

TO THE MEMBERS

OF

GRACE BAPTIST CHURCH

TO THOSE WHO IN THE OLD DAYS WORKED WITH SUCH SELF SACRIFICE ANDDEVOTION TO BUILD THE TEMPLE WALLS; TO THOSE WHO IN THE LATER DAYSANYWHERE WORK IN LIKE SPIRIT TO ENLARGE THEIR SPHERE OF USEFULNESS, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

AN APPRECIATION

The measure of greatness is helpfulness. We have gone back to themethod of the Master and learned to test men not by wealth, nor bybirth, nor by intellectual power, but by service. Wealth is not to bedespised if it is untainted and consecrated. Ancestry is noble if thegood survives and the bad perishes in him who boasts of his forebears. Intellectual force is worthy if only it can escape from that cursedattendant, conceit. But they sink, one and all into insignificancewhen character is considered; for character is the child of godlyparents whose names are self-denial and love. The man who lives notfor himself but for others, and who has a heart big enough to take allmen into its living sympathies--he is the man we delight to honor. 

Biographies have a large place in present day literature. A woman longassociated with some foreign potentates tells her story and it is readwith unhealthy avidity. Some man fights many battles, and his careertold by an amiable critic excites temporary interest. Yet as we readwe are unsatisfied. The heart and mind, consciously or unconsciously, ask for some deeds other than those of arms and sycophancies. Did hemake the world better by his living? Were rough places smoothed andcrooked things straightened by his energies? And withal, had he thattender grace which drew little children to him and made him theknight-attendant of the feeble and overborne amongst his fellows? Thelife from which men draw daily can alone make a book richly worth thereading. 

It is good that something should be known of a man whilst he yetlives. We are overcrowded with monuments commemorating those intowhose faces we cannot look for inspiration. It is always easy to strewflowers upon the tomb. But to hear somewhat of living realities; tograsp the hand which has wrought, and feel the thrill while we hear ofthe struggles which made it a beautiful hand; to see the face markedby lines cut with the chisel of inner experience and the sword oflonely misunderstanding and perchance of biting criticism, andlearn how the brave contest spelt out a life-history on feature andbrow;--this is at once to know the man and his career. 

This life of a man justly honored and loved in Philadelphia will finda welcome seldom accorded to the routine biography. It is difficultfor one who rejoices in Dr. Conwell's friendship to speak in temperedlanguage. It is yet more difficult to do justice to the great workwhich Church and College and Hospital, united in a trinity of service, have accomplished in our very midst. God hath done mighty thingsthrough this His servant, and the end is not yet. To attend the Templeservices on Sunday and feel the pulse of worship is to enter into ablessed fellowship with God and men. To see the thousands pursuingtheir studies during the week in Temple College and to realize thethoroughness of the work done is to gain a belief in Christianeducation. To move through the beautiful Hospital and mark the gentleministration of Christian physician and nurse is to learn what Jesusmeant when, quoting Hosea, He said: "I will have mercy and notsacrifice. " And these all bring one very near to the great humanheart, the intelligent and far-reaching judgment, the ripe and realreligion of him whose life this volume tells. 

May God bless Dr. Conwell in the days to come, and graciously sparehim to us for many years! We need such men in this old sin-stained andweary world. He is an inspiration to his brothers in the ministryof Jesus Christ, He is a proof of the power in the world of pureChristianity. He is a friend to all that is good, a foe to all that isevil, a strength to the weak, a comforter to the sorrowing, a man ofGod. 

He would not suffer these words to be printed if he saw them. But theycome from the heart of one who loves, honors, and reverences him forhis character and his deeds. They are the words of a friend. 

[Illustration: Floyd W. Tomkins Church of the Holy TrinityPhiladelphia, Oct. 6th 1905. ]

FOREWORD

CONWELL THE PIONEER

Speaking of Russell Conwell's career, a Western paper has called it, "a pioneer life. "

No phrase better describes it. 

Dr. Conwell preaches to the largest Protestant congregation in Americaeach Sunday. He is the founder and president of a college that has ayearly roll-call of three thousand students. He is the founder andpresident of a hospital that annually treats more than five thousandpatients. Yet great as these achievements are, they are yet greater inprophecy than in fulfilment. For they are the first landmarks in a newworld of philanthropic work. He has blazed a path through the dark, tangled wilderness of tradition and convention, hewing away theworthless, making a straight road for progress, letting in God's clearlight to show what the world needs done and how to do it. 

He has shown how a church can reach out into the home, the business, the social life of thousands of people until their religion is theirlife, their life a religion. He has given the word "church" its realmeaning. No longer is it a building merely for worship, but, withdoors never closed, it is a vital part of the community and the livesof the people. 

He has proven that the great masses of people are hungry and thirstyfor knowledge. The halls of Temple College have resounded to the treadof an army of working men and women more than fifty thousand strong. The man with an hour a day and a few dollars a year is as eager and aswelcome a student there, and has the same educational opportunities tothe same grade of learning as though he had the birthright of leisureand money which opens the doors to Harvard and Yale. 

He has shown that a hospital can be built not merely as a charity, notmerely as a necessity, but as a visible expression of Christ's loveand command, "Heal the sick. "

In all these three lines he has blazed new paths, opened new worldsfor man's endeavors--new worlds of religious work, new worlds ofeducational work. He has not only proven their need, demonstratedtheir worth, but he has shown how it is possible to accomplish suchresults from small beginnings with no large gifts of money, with onlythe hands and hearts of willing workers. 

Not only has he done a magnificent pioneer work in these great fields, but from boyhood he has blazed trails of one kind or another, forthe pioneer fever was in his blood--that burning desire to do, todiscover, to strike out into new fields. 

As a mere child, he organized a strange club called "Silence, " alsothe first debating society in the district schoolhouse, and circulatedthe first petition for the opening of a post-office near his home inSouth Worthington, Mass. 

In his school days at Wilbraham Academy, he organized an originalcritics' club, started the first academy paper, organized the originalalumni association. 

In war time, he built the first schoolhouse for the first free coloredschool, still standing at Newport, N. C. ; and started the first"Comfort Bag" movement at a war meeting in Springfield, Mass. 

As a lawyer, he opened the first noon prayer meeting in the Northwest, called the first meeting to organize the Y. M. C. A. At Minneapolis, Minn. , organized four literary and social clubs in Minneapolis, started the first library in that city, began the publication of thefirst daily paper there called "The Daily Chronicle, " afterward "TheMinneapolis Tribune. "

In Boston, he started the "Somerville Journal, " now edited by his son, Leon M. Conwell, one of the most quoted publications in the country. He called the first meeting which organized the Boston Young Men'sCongress, and was one of the first editors of the "Boston Globe. "He was the personal adviser of James Redpath, who opened the firstLecture and Lyceum Bureau in the United States. 

He began a new church work in the old Baptist church building atLexington, Mass. , and he opened in a schoolhouse the mission fromwhich grew the West Somerville (Mass. ) Baptist church. 

He was special counselor for four new Railroad companies and for twonew National banks. 

In Philadelphia, in addition to being the founder of the firstInstitutional church in America, of a college practically free forbusy men and women, and a hospital for the sick poor, he has organizedtwenty or more societies for religions and benevolent purposesincluding the Philadelphia Orphan's Home Society. 

His pioneer work is not all. As a lecturer Dr. Conwell is known fromthe Atlantic to the Pacific, having been on the lecture platformfor forty-three years, speaking from one hundred to two hundred andtwenty-five nights each year. 

As an author he has written books that have run into editions ofhundreds of thousands, his "Life of Spurgeon" selling one hundred andtwenty-five thousand copies in four months. He has been around theglobe many times, counted among his intimate friends Garibaldi, BayardTaylor, Stanley, Longfellow, Blaine, Henry Ward Beecher, John G. Whittier, President Garfield, Horace Greeley, Alexander Stevens, JohnBrown, Ralph Waldo Emerson, John B. Gough and General Sherman. 

He fought in the war of the Rebellion, was left for dead on thebattlefield of Kenesaw mountain--in fact, he has had a career aspicturesque and thrilling as a Scott or Dumas could picture. 

Yet the man whose energy has reared enduring monuments of stone, andmore lasting ones in the hearts of thousands whose lives he has madehappier and brighter, fought his way upward alone and single-handedfrom a childhood of poverty. He rose by his own efforts, in the faceof great and seemingly insurmountable obstacles and discouragements. The path he took from that little humble farmhouse to the big church, the wide-reaching college, the kindly hospital, the head of theLecture Platform, it is the purpose of this book to picture, in thehope that it may be helpful to others, either young or old, who desireto better their condition, or to do some work of which the inner voicetells them the world is in need. 

Dr. Conwell believes, with George Macdonald, that "The one secret oflife and development is not to devise or plan, but to fall in with theforces at work--to do every moment's duty aright--that being the partin the process allotted to us; and let come . . . What the EternalThought wills for each of us, has intended in each of us from thefirst. "

Or in the words of the greatest of Books, "See that thou make itaccording to the pattern that was shewed thee in the mount. "

Every one at some time in his life has been "in the mount. " To followand obey the Heavenly Vision means a life of usefulness and happiness. That obstacles and discouragements can be surmounted, the life ofRussell Conwell shows. For this purpose it is written, that others whohave heard the Voice may go forward with faith and perseverance towork of which the world stands in need. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

In the preparation of this book, the three excellent biographiesalready written, "Scaling the Eagle's Nest, " by Wm. C. Higgins, "TheModern Temple and Templars, " by Robert J. Burdette, and "The Life ofRussell H. Conwell, " by Albert Hatcher Smith, have been of the utmosthelp. The writer wishes to acknowledge her great indebtedness to allfor much of the information in the present work. These writers havewith the utmost care gathered the facts concerning Dr. Conwell's earlylife, and the writer most gratefully owns her deep obligation to them. 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter I. --Ancestry. John Conwell, the English Ancestor who fought forthe Preservation of the English Language. Martin Conwell of Maryland. ARunaway Marriage. The Parents of Russell H. Conwell. 

Chapter II. --Early Environment. The Family Circle. An Unusual Mother. What She Read Her Children. A Preacher at Three Years of Age. 

Chapter III. --Days of Study, Work and Play. The Schoolhouse in theWoods. Maple Sugar-making. The Orator of the Dawn. A Boyish Prank. Capturing the Eagle's Nest. 

Chapter IV. --Two Men and Their Influence. John Brown. FiresideDiscussions. Runaway Slaves. Fred Douglas. Rev. Asa Niles. A RunawayTrip to Boston. 

Chapter V--Trying His Wings. Boyhood Days. Russell's First Case at Law. A Cure for Stage Fever. Studying Music. A Runaway Trip to Europe. 

Chapter VI--Out of the Home Nest. School Days at Wilbraham Academy. TheFirst School Oration and Its Humiliating End. The Hour of Prayer in theConwell Home at the Time of John Brown's Execution. 

Chapter VII. --War's Alarms. College Days at Yale. The Outbreak of theCivil War. Patriotic Speechmaking. New York and Henry Ward Beecher. 

Chapter VIII. --While the Conflict Raged. Lincoln's Call for One HundredThousand Men. Enlistment. Captain Conwell. In Camp at Springfield, Mass. The Famous Gold-sheathed Sword. 

Chapter IX. --In the Thick of the Fight. Company F at Newberne, N. C. TheFight at Batchelor's Creek. The Goldsboro Expedition. The Battle ofKingston. The Gum Swamp Expedition. 

Chapter X. --The Sword and the School Book. Scouting at Bogue Sound. Captain Conwell Wounded. The Second Enlistment. Jealousy andMisunderstanding. Building of the First Free School for ColoredChildren. Attack on Newport Barracks. Heroic Death of John Ring. 

Chapter XI. --A Soldier of the Cross. Under Arrest for Absence WithoutLeave. Order of Court Reversed by President. Certificate from StateLegislature of Massachusetts for Patriotic Services. Appointed byPresident Lincoln, Lieutenant-Colonel on General McPherson's Staff. Wounded at Kenesaw Mountain. Conversion. Public Profession of Faith. 

Chapter XII. --Westward. Resignation from Army. Admission to Bar. Marriage. Removal to Minnesota. Founding of the Minneapolis Y. M. C. A. And of the Present "Minneapolis Tribune. " Burning of Home. Breaking Outof Wound. Appointed Emigration Agent to Germany by Governor ofMinnesota. Joins Surveying Party to Palestine. Near to Death in ParisHospital. Journey to New York for Operation in Bellevue Hospital. Returnto Boston. 

Chapter XIII. --Writing His Way Around the World. Days of Poverty inBoston. Sent to Southern Battlefields. Around the World for New York andBoston Papers. In a Gambling Den in Hong Kong, China. Cholera andShipwreck. 

Chapter XIV. --Busy Days in Boston. Editor of "Boston Traveller. " FreeLegal Advice for the Poor. Temperance Work. Campaign Manager for GeneralNathaniel P. Banks. Urged for Consulship at Naples. His Work for theWidows and Orphans of Soldiers. 

Chapter XV. --Troubled Days. Death of Wife. Loss of Money. Preaching onWharves. Growth of Sunday School Class at Tremont Temple from Four toSix Hundred Members in a Brief Time. Second Marriage. Death of Fatherand Mother. Preaching at Lexington. Building Lexington Baptist Church. 

Chapter XVI. --His Entry Into the Ministry. Ordination. First Charge atLexington. Call to Grace Baptist Church, Philadelphia. 

Chapter XVII. --Going to Philadelphia. The Early History of Grace BaptistChurch. The Beginning of the Sunday Breakfast Association. Impressionsof a Sunday Service. 

Chapter XVIII. --First Days at Grace Baptist Church. Early Plans forChurch Efficiency. Practical Methods for. 

Chapter XXXI. --The Manner of the Message. The Style of the Sermons. Their Subject Matter. Preaching to Help Some Individual Church Member. 

Chapter XXXII. --These Busy Later Days. A Typical Week Day. A TypicalSunday. Mrs. Conwell. Back to the Berkshires in Summer for Rest. 

Chapter XXXIII. --As a Lecturer. Wide Fame as a Lecturer. Date of Entranceon Lecture Platform. Number of Lectures Given. The Press on HisLectures. Some Instances of How His Lectures Have Helped People. Addressat Banquet to President McKinley. 

Chapter XXXIV. --As a Writer. Rapid Method of Working. A PopularBiographical Writer. The Books He has Written. 

Chapter XXXV. --A Home Coming. Reception Tendered by Citizens ofPhiladelphia in Acknowledgment of Work as Public Benefactor. 

Chapter XXXVI. --The Path That Has Been Blazed. Problems That NeedSolving. The Need of Men Able to Solve Them. 

Acres of Diamonds. 

Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women. 

[Illustration: MARTIN CONWELL]

CHAPTER I

ANCESTRY

John Conwell, the English Ancestor who fought for the Preservation ofthe English Language. Martin Conwell of Maryland. A Runaway Marriage. The Parents of Russell Conwell. 

When the Norman-French overran England and threatened to sweep fromout the island the English language, many time-honored Englishcustoms, and all that those loyal early Britons held dear, a doughtyEnglishman, John Conwell, took up cudgels in their defence. Long andbitter was the struggle he waged to preserve the English language. Insidious and steady were the encroachments of the Norman-Frenchtongue. The storm centre was the Castle school, for John Conwellrealized that the language of the child of to-day is the language ofthe man of to-morrow. Right royal was the battle, for it was in thoseold feudal days of strong feeling and bitter, bloody partisanship. Butthis plucky Briton stood to his guns until he won. Norman-French wasbeaten back, English was taught in the schools, and preserved in thespeech of that day. 

It was a tale that was told his children and his children's children. It was a tradition that grew into their blood--the story ofperseverance, the story of a fight against oppression and injustice. "Blood" is after all but family traditions and family ideals, and thisfighting ancestor handed down to his descendants an inheritance ofgreater worth than royal lineage or feudal castle. The centuriesrolled away, a new world was discovered, and the progressive, energetic Conwell family were not to be held back when adventurebeckoned. Two members of it came to America. Courage of a highorder, enthusiasm, faith, must they have had, or the call to crossa perilous, pathless ocean, to brave unknown dangers in a new worldwould have found no response in their hearts. They settled in Marylandand into this fighting pioneer blood entered that strange magicinfluence of the South, which makes for romance, for imagination, forthe poetic and ideal in temperament. 

[Illustration: MIRANDA CONWELL]

Of this family came Martin Conwell, of Baltimore, hot-blooded, proud, who in 1810, visiting a college chum in western Massachusetts, metand fell in love with a New England girl, Miss Hannah Niles. She wasalready engaged to a neighbor's son, but the Southerner cared naughtfor a rival. He wooed earnestly, passionately. He soon swept away herprotests, won her heart and the two ran away and were married. Buttragic days were ahead. On her return her incensed father locked herin her room and by threats and force compelled her to write a note toher young husband renouncing him. He would accept no such message, butsent a note imploring a meeting in a nearby schoolhouse at nightfall. The letter fell into the father's hands. He compelled her to write acurt reply bidding him leave her "forever. " Then the father lockedthe daughter safely in the attic, and with a mob led by the rejectedsuitor, surrounded the schoolhouse and burnt it to the ground. Thehusband, thinking he had been heartlessly forsaken, made a brave fightagainst the odds, but seeing no hope of success, leaped from theburning building, amid the shots fired at him, escaped down a rockyembankment at the back of the schoolhouse, and under cover of thewoods, fled. They told his wife that he was dead. 

A little son came to brighten her shadowed life, whom she named, afterhim, Martin Conwell; and after seven years she married her earlylover. But Martin was the son of her first husband and always herdearest child, and day after day when old and gray and again a widow, she would come over the New England hills, a little lonely old woman, to sit by his fireside and dream of those bygone days that were sosweet. 

Too proud to again seek an explanation, Martin Conwell, her husband, returned to his Maryland home, living a lonely, bitter life, believingto the day of his death, thirty years later, that his young wife hadrepudiated and betrayed him. 

Martin Conwell, the son, grew to manhood and in 1839 brought a brideto a little farm he had purchased at South Worthington, up in theHampshire Highlands of the Berkshire Hills in Massachusetts. Here andthere among these hills, along the swift mountain streams, the landsweeps out into sunny little meadows filled in summer with rich, tender grasses, starred with flowers. It is not a fertile land. Therocks creep out with frequent and unpleasing persistency. But MartinConwell viewed life cheerfully, and being an ingenious man, added tothe business of farming, several other occupations, and so managed tomake a living, and after many years to pay the mortgage on his homewhich came with the purchase. The little farmhouse, clinging to thebleak hillside, seemed daring to the point of recklessness when thewinter's winds swept down the valley, and the icy fingers of the stormreached out as if to pluck it bodily from its exposed position. 

But when spring wove her mantle of green over the hills, when summerflung its leafy banners from a million tree tops, then in thewonderful panorama of beauty that spread before it, was the littlehome justified for the dangers it had dared. Back of the house theland climbed into a little ridge, with great, gray rocks here andthere, spots of cool, restful color amid the lavish green and gold andpurple of nature's carpeting. To the north swept hills clothed withthe deep, rich green of hemlock, the faint green flutter of birch, thedense foliage of sugar maples. To the east, in the valley, a singingsilver brook flashed in and out among somber boulders, the landascending to sunny hilltop pastures beyond. But toward the south fromthe homestead lay the gem of the scenery; one of the most beautifulpictures the Berkshires know. Down the valley the hills divided, sweeping upward east and west in magnificent curves; and through theopening, range on range of distant mountains, including Mount Tom, filled the view with an ever-changing fairyland of beauty--in thespring a sea of tender, misty green; in the summer, a deep, heavingocean of billowy foliage; in the fall, a very carnival of color--gold, rich reds, deep glowing browns and orange. And always, at morning, noon and night, was seen subtle tenderness of violet shadows, of hazyblue mists, of far-away purple distances. 

Such was the site Martin Conwell chose for a home, a site that toldsomething of his own character; that had marked influence on thefamily that grew up in the little farmhouse. 

A mixture of the practical, hard common sense of New England and thesympathetic, poetic temperament of the South was in this young NewEngland farmer--the genial, beauty-loving nature of his Southernfather, the rigid honesty, the strong convictions, the shrewd sense ofhis Northern mother. Quiet and reserved in general, he was to thosewho knew him well, kind-hearted, broad-minded, fun-loving. He notonly took an active interest in the affairs of the little mountaincommunity, but his mind and heart went out to the big problems of thenation. He grappled with them, sifted them thoroughly, and havingdecided what to him was the right course to pursue, expressed hisconvictions in deed as well as word. His was no passive nature. Thesquare chin denoted the man of will and aggression, and though thegenial mouth and kindly blue eyes bespoke the sympathetic heart, theyshowed no lack of courage to come out in the open and take sides. 

The young wife, Miranda Conwell, shared these broader interests of herhusband. She came from central New York State and did not have thatNew England reserve and restraint that amounts almost to coldness. Hermind was keen and vigorous and reached out with her husband's to graspand ponder the higher things of life. But the beauty of her characterlay in the loving, affectionate nature that shone from her dark eyes, in the patient, self-sacrificing, self-denying disposition which foundits chief joy in ministering to her husband and children. Deeplyreligious, she could no more help whispering a fervent little prayer, as she tucked her boys in bed, that the Father above would watch overand protect them, than she could help breathing, her trust in Godwas so much a part of her nature. Such a silent, beautiful influenceunconsciously permeates a child's whole character, moulding it, setting it. Unconscious of it at the time, some day a great eventsuddenly crystalizes it like a wonderful chemical change, and thebeauty of it shines evermore from his life. Miranda Conwell builtbetter than she knew when in the every-day little things of her life, she let her faith shine. 

Not a usual couple, by any means, for the early 40's in rugged NewEngland. Yet their unusualness was of a kind within every one's reach. They believed the making of a life of more importance than the makingof a living, and they grasped every opportunity of those meagre daysto broaden and uplift their mental and spiritual vision. MartinConwell's thoughts went beyond his plow furrow, Miranda's further thanher bread-board; and so the little home had an atmosphere of earnestthought and purpose that clothed the uncarpeted floors and bare wallswith dignity and beauty. 

CHAPTER II

EARLY ENVIRONMENT

The Family Circle. An Unusual Mother. What She Read Her Children. APreacher at Three Years of Age. 

Such was the heritage and the home into which Russell H. Conwellwas born February 15, 1843. Think what a world his eyes openedupon--"fair, searching eyes of youth"--steadfast hills holding mysteryand fascination in green depths and purple distances, streams rushingwith noisy joy over stony beds, sweet violet gloom of night withbrilliant stars moving silently across infinite space; tender moss, delicate fern, creeping vine, covering the brown earth with livingbeauty--a fascinating world of loveliness for boyish eyes to look uponand wonder about. 

The home inside was as unpretentious as its exterior suggested. Thetiny hall admitted on one side to a bedroom, on the other to a livingroom, from which opened a room used as a store. Above was an attic. The living room was the bright, cheery heart of the house. The morningsun poured in through two windows which faced the east; a window anddoor on the south claimed the same cheery rays as the sun journeyedwestward. The big open fireplace made a glowing spot of brightness. The floor was uncarpeted, the walls unpapered, the furnishing of thesimplest, yet cheerfulness and homely comfort pervaded the room aswith an almost tangible spirit. 

A brother three years older and a sister three years younger made atrio of bright, childish faces about the hearth on winter eveningsas the years went by, while the mother read to them such tales aschildish minds could grasp. It was a loving little circle, one thatriveted sure and fast the ties of family affection and which helpedone boy at her knee in after life to enter with such sure sympathyinto the plain, simple lives of the humblest people he met. He hadlived that same life, he knew the family affection that grows withsuch strength around simple firesides, and those of like circumstancesfelt this knowledge and opened their hearts to him. 

That Miranda Conwell was an unusual woman for those times andcircumstances is shown in those readings to her children. Not onlydid she read and explain to them the beautiful stories of the Bible, implanting its truths in their impressionable natures to blossom forthlater in beautiful deeds; but she read them the best literature of theancient days as well as current literature. Into this poor New Englandhome came the "New York Tribune" and the "National Era. " The lettersof foreign correspondents opened to their childish eyes another worldand roused ambitions to see it. Henry Ward Beecher's sermons, and"Uncle Tom's Cabin, " when it came out as a serial, all such good andhelpful literature, she poured into the eager childish ears. Thesereadings went on, all through the happy days of childhood. 

Interesting things were happening in the world then; things that wereto mould the future of one of the boys at her knee in a way she littledreamed. A war was being waged in Mexico to train soldiers for agreater war coming. Out in Illinois, a plain rail-splitter, farmer andlawyer was beginning to be heard in the cause of freedom and justicefor all men, black or white. These rumors and discussions drifted intothe little home and arguments rose high around the crackling woodfireas neighbors dropped in. Martin Conwell was not a man to watchpassively the trend of events. He took sides openly, vigorously, andthough the small, blue-eyed boy listening so attentively did notcomprehend all that it was about, Martin Conwell's views later tookshape in action that had a marked bearing on Russell's later life. 

But the mother's reading bore more immediate, if less useful, fruit. Hearing rather unusual sounds from the back yard one day, she wentto the door to listen. The evening before she had been reading thechildren one of the sermons of Henry Ward Beecher and telling themsomething of this great man and his work. Mounted upon one of thelargest gray rocks in the yard, stood Russell, solemnly preaching toa collection of wondering, round-eyed chickens. It was a serious, impressive discourse he gave them, much of it, no doubt, a transcriptof Henry Ward Beecher's. What led his boyish fancy to do it, noone knew, though many another child has done the same, as childrendramatize in play the things they have heard or read. But a chanceremark stamped that childish action upon the boyish imagination, making it the corner stone of many a childish castle in Spain. Tellingher husband of it in the evening, Miranda Conwell said, half jokingly, "our boy will some day be a great preacher. " It was a fertile seeddropped in a fertile mind, tilled assiduously for a brief space byvivid childish imagination; but not ripened till sad experiences oflater years brought it to a glorious fruition. 

Another result of the fireside readings might have been serious. Ashort distance from the house a mountain stream leaps and foams overthe stones, seeming to choose, as Ruskin says, "the steepest placesto come down for the sake of the leaps, scattering its handfuls ofcrystal this way and that as the wind takes them. " The walls of thegorge rise sheer and steep; the path of the stream is strewn with hugeboulders, over which it foams snow white, pausing in quiet littlepools for breath before the next leap and scramble. Here and there atthe sides, stray tiny little waterfalls, very Thoreaus of streamlets, content to wander off by themselves, away from the noisy rush of theothers, making little silvery rills of beauty in unobtrusive ways. Over this gorge was a fallen log. Russell determined to enact the partof Eliza in "Uncle Tom's Cabin, " fleeing over the ice. It was a featto make a mother's heart stand still. Three separate times shewhipped him severely and forbade him to do it. He took the punishmentcheerfully, and went back to the log. He never gave up until he hadcrossed it. 

The vein of perseverance in his character was already setting intofirm, unyielding mould--the one trait to which Russell H. Conwell, thepreacher, the lecturer, writer, founder of college and hospital, mayattribute the success he has gained. This childish escapade was thefirst to strike fire from its flint. 

CHAPTER III

DAYS OF STUDY, WORK AND PLAY

The Schoolhouse in the Woods. Maple Sugar-making. The Orator of theDawn. A Boyish Prank. Capturing the Eagle's Nest. 

At three years of age, he trudged off to school with his brotherCharles. Though Charles was three years the senior, the little fellowstruggled to keep pace with him in all their childish play and work. Two miles the children walked daily to the schoolhouse, a long walkfor a toddler of three. But it laid the foundation of that strong, rugged constitution that has carried him so unflinchingly throughthe hard work of these later years. The walk to school was the mostimportant part of the performance, for lessons had no attraction forthe boy as yet. But the road through the woods to the schoolhouse wasa journey of ever new and never-ending excitement. The road lay alonga silver-voiced brook that rippled softly by shadowy rock, or splashedjoyous and exultant down its boulder-strewn path. It was this samebrook whose music drifted into his little attic bedroom at night, stilled to a faint, far-away murmur as the wind died down, rising to ahigh, clear crescendo of rushing, tumbling water as the breeze stirredin the tree tops and brought to him the forest sounds. Hour afterhour he lay awake listening to it, his childish imagination picturingfairies and elves holding their revels in the woods beyond. Anoratorical little brook it was, unconsciously leaving an impress ofits musical speech on the ears of the embryo orator. Moreover, in itsquiet pools lurked watchful trout. Few country boys could walk alongsuch a stream unheeding its fascinations, especially when the doorsof a school house opened at the farther end, and many an hour whenstudies should have claimed him, he was sitting by the brookside, care-free and contented, delightedly fishing. Nor are any berriesquite so luscious as those which grow along the country road toschool. It takes long, long hours to satisfy the keen appetite ofa boy, and lessons suffered during the berry seasons. Another keenexcitement of the daily journey through a living world of mystery andenchantment was the search for frogs. Woe to the unlucky frog thatfell in the way of the active, curious boy. Some one had told him thatold, old countryside story, "If you kill a frog, the cows will givebloody milk. " Eager to see such a phenomenon, he watched sharply. Letan unlucky frog give one unfortunate croak, quick, sure-aimed, flew astone, and he raced home at night to see the miracle performed. He wasjust a boy as other boys--mischievous, disobedient, fonder of playthan work or study. But underneath, uncalled upon as yet, lay thatvein of perseverance as unyielding as the granite of his native hills. 

The schoolhouse inside was not unattractive. Six windows gave plentyof light, and each framed woodland pictures no painter's canvas couldrival. The woods were all about and the voice of the littlebrook floated in, always calling, calling--at least to one smalllistener--to come out and see it dance and sparkle and leap from rockto rock. If he gained nothing else from his first school days but alove and appreciation of nature's beauties, it was a lesson well worthlearning. To feed the heart and imagination of a child with suchscenery is to develop unconsciously a love of the beautiful whichbrings a pure joy into life never to be lost, no matter what stressand storm may come. In the darkest, stormiest hours of his later life, to think back to the serene beauty of those New England hills was as ahand of peace laid on his troubled spirit. 

This love and joy in nature--and the trait was already in hisblood--was at first all that he gained from his trips to school. Thencame a teacher with a new way of instructing, a Miss Salina Cole, whohad mastered the art of visual memory. She taught her pupils to makeon the mind a photographic impression of the page, which could berecalled in its entirety, even to the details of punctuation. Thiswas a process of study that appealed immediately to Russell's boyishimagination. Moreover, it was something to "see if he could do, "always fascinating to his love of experiment and adventure. It hadnumerous other advantages. It was quick. It promised far-reachingresults. If page after page of the school books could be stored in themind and called up for future reference, getting an education wouldbecome an easy matter. Besides, they could be called up and ponderedon in various places--fishing, for instance. He quickly decidedto would master this new method, and he went at it with hischaracteristic energy and determination. Concentrating all his mentalforce, he would study intently the printed page, and then closing hiseyes, repeat it word for word, even giving the punctuation marks. Withthe other pupils, Salina Cole was not so successful, but with RussellConwell, the results were remarkable. It was a faculty of the utmostvalue to him in after years. When in military camp and far from books, he would recall page after page of his law works and study them duringthe long days of garrison duty as easily as though the printed bookwere in his hand. 

But the work was of more value to him than the mere mastery ofsomething new. It whetted his appetite for more. He began to want toknow. School became interesting, and he plunged into studies with aninterest and zest that were unflagging. And as he studied, ambitionsawoke. The history of the past, the accomplishments of great menstirred him. He began to dream of the things to do in the days tocome. 

Outside of school hours his time was filled with the ordinary dutiesof the farm. In the early spring, the maple sugar was to be madeand there were long, difficult tramps through woods in those misty, brooding days when the miracle of new life is working in tree and vineand leaf. Often the very earth seemed hushed as if waiting in awe forthis marvelous change that transforms brown earth and bare tree to avision of ethereal, tender green. But his books went with him, and inthe long night watches far in the woods alone, when the pans of sirrupwere boiling, he studied. So enrapt did he become that sometimes thesugar suffered, and the patience of his father was sorely taxed whentold the tale of inattention. 

It was during those long night watches that he learned by heart twobooks of Milton's "Paradise Lost, " and so firmly were they fixedin the boyish memory that at this day, Dr. Conwell can repeat themwithout a break. Many a time as the shadows lightened and the dim, misty dawn came stealing through the forest, would the small boy stepoutside the rude sugar-house and repeat in that musical, resonantvoice that has since held audiences enthralled, Milton's glorious"Invocation to the Light. " Strange scene--the great shadowy forest, the distant mist-enfolded hills, the faintly flushing morning sky, the faint splash of a little mountain stream breaking the broodingstillness, and the small boy with intent, inspired face pouring outhis very heart in that wonderful invocation:

 "Hail, holy light, offspring of Heaven, Firstborn Or of the Eternal, co-eternal beam, May I express thee Unblamed? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity--dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate! Or hear'st thou, rather, pure Eternal Stream, Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun, Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of God as with a mantle didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless Infinite!"

Later in spring there was plowing, though the farm was so rocky andstony, there was little of that work to do. But here and there, asunny hilltop field made cultivation worth while, and as he followedthe patient oxen along the shining brown furrow, he looked away to theencircling hills so full of mystery and fascination. What was there?What was beyond? Then into the the morning and well into the afternoonthey pried and labored. They dug away earth and exerted to the utmosttheir childish strength. Charles would soon have given up the gigantictask, but Russell was not of the stuff that quits, and so they toiledon. The father and mother at home wondered and searched for the boys. Then as they began truly to get alarmed, from the woods to the southcame a crash and roar, the sound of trees snapping and then a shockthat made the earth tremble. The rock had fallen, traversing a mile, in its downward rush to the river bed. Flushed and triumphant theboys returned, and the neighbors who had heard the noise, when it wasexplained to them, went to see the wreckage. It had dropped first afall of fifteen feet, where it had paused an instant. Then the earthgiving way under its tons of weight, it had plowed a deep furrow rightdown the mountain side, dislodging rocks, uprooting trees, until witha mighty crash, it struck the borders of the stream where it stands tothis day, a monument to boyish ingenuity and perseverance. 

But of all the mischievous pranks of these childish days, the one thathad perhaps the greatest influence on his life was the capture ofan eagle's nest from the top of a dead hemlock. To the north of thefarmhouse a hill rises abruptly, covered with bare, outcropping rocks, their fronts sheer and steep. On top clusters a little sombre groveof hemlock trees, and from the midst of these rose the largest one, straight, majestic, swaying a little in the wind that swept on fromthe distant hills. In the top of this tree, an eagle had built hernest, and it had long been a secret ambition of the boy to captureit, the more resolved upon because it seemed impossible. One day inOctober he left his sheep, ran to the foot of the hill, and with thesure-footed agility of a mountain boy climbed the rocks and began theascent of the tree. From the top of a high ledge nearby two men hidand watched him. A fall meant death, and many a time their heartsstood still, as the intrepid lad placed his foot on a dead branch onlyto have it break under him, or reached for a limb to find it give wayat his touch. The tree was nearly fifty feet high and at some time astroke of lightning had rent it, splintering the trunk. Only one limbwas left whole, the others had been broken off or shattered by thestorms of winter. In the very crown of the tree swayed the nest, arude, uncouth thing of sticks and hay. 

Up and up he climbed, stopping every now and then in the midst of hisstruggles to call to the sheep if he saw them wandering too far. Hehad only to call them by name to bring them nibbling back again. 

"Not a man in the mountains, " wrote one of those who watched him inthat interesting sketch of Mr. Conwell's life, "Scaling the Eagle'sNest, " "would have thought it possible to do anything else but shoot, that nest down. When we first saw him he was half way up the greattree, and was tugging away to get up by a broken limb which wasswinging loosely about the trunk. For a long time he tried to break itoff, but his little hand was too weak. Then he came down from knot toknot like a squirrel, jumped to the ground, ran to his little jacketand took his jack-knife out of the pocket. Slowly he clambered upagain. When he reached the limb, he clung to another with his lefthand, threw one leg over a splintered knot and with the right handhacked away with his knife. 

"'He will give it up, ' we both said. 

"But he did not. He chipped away until at last the limb fell to theground. Then he pocketed his knife, and bravely strove to get uphigher. It was a dizzy height even for a grown hunter, but the boynever looked down. He went on until he came to a place about ten feetbelow the nest, where there was a long, bare space on the trunk, withno limbs or knots to cling to. He was baffled then. He looked up atthe nest many times, tried to find some place to catch hold of therough bark and sought closely for some rest higher up to put his footon. But there was none. An eagle's nest was a rare thing to him, andhe hugged the tree and thought. Suddenly he began to descend againhastily, and soon dropped to the ground. Away he ran down through theravines, leaped the little streams and disappeared toward his home. In a few minutes the torn straw hat and blue shirt came flitting backamong the rocks and bushes. He called the sheep to him, talked tothem, and shook his finger at them, then he clambered up the treeagain, dragging after him a long piece of his mother's clothes line. At one end of it, he had tied a large stone, which hindered hisprogress, for it caught in the limbs and splinters. The wind blew historn straw hat away down a side cliff, and one side of his trouserswas soon torn to strips. But he went on. When he got to the smoothplace on the tree again, he fastened one end of the rope about hiswrist, and then taking the stone which was fastened to the other end, he tried to throw it up over the nest. It was an awkward and dangerousposition, and the stone did not reach the top. Six or seven times hethrew that stone up, and it fell short or went to one side, and nearlydragged him down as it fell. 

"The boy felt for his knife again, opened it with his teeth as he heldon, and hauling the rope up, cut off a part of it. He threw a shortpiece around the trunk and tied himself with it to the tree. Thenhe could lean back for a longer throw. He tied the rope to his handagain, and threw the stone with all his energy. It went straight as anarrow, drew the rope squarely over the nest and fell down the otherside of the tree. After a struggle he reached around for the stone, and tied that end of the rope to a long broken limb. When he drew theother end of the rope which had been fastened to his hand, it brokedown the sides of the nest, and an old bird arose with a wild scream. 

"Then he loosed the rope which held him to the tree, and pullinghimself up with his hands on the scaling line, digging his bare toes, heels and knees at times into the ragged bark, he was up in twominutes to the nest. "

"That is a child's ambition, " said one of the men, as they both drew abreath of relief, when he stepped safely to the ground. "Wait until hehas a man's ambition. If that vein of perseverance doesn't run out, hewill do something worth while. "

CHAPTER IV

TWO MEN AND THEIR INFLUENCE

John Brown. Fireside Discussions. Runaway Slaves. Fred Douglas. Rev. Asa Niles. A Runaway Trip to Boston. 

Two men entered into Russell Conwell's life in these formative days ofboyhood who unconsciously had much to do with the course of his afterlife. 

One was John Brown, that man "who would rush through fire though itburn, through water though it drown, to do the work which his soulknew that it must do. " During his residence in Springfield, this man"possessed like Socrates with a genius that was too much for him" wasa frequent visitor at the Conwell home. Russell learned to know thatface with "features chiselled, as it were, in granite, " the largeclear eyes that seemed fairly to change color with the intensity ofhis feelings when he spoke on the one subject that was the very heartof the man. Tall, straight, lithe, with hair brushed back from a highforehead, thick, full beard and a wonderful, penetrating voice whosetones once heard were never forgotten, his arrival was always receivedwith shouts by the Conwell boys. Had he not lived in the West andfought real Indians! What surer "open sesame" is there to a boy'sheart? He was not so enrapt in his one great project, but that hecould go out to the barn and pitch down hay from the mow with Russell, or tell him wonderful stories of the great West where he had lived asa boy, and of the wilderness through which he had tramped as a merechild when he cared for his father's cattle. Russell was entirely tooyoung to grasp the meaning of the earnest discussions that went onabout the fireplace of which this Spartan was then the centre. But inlater years their meaning came to him with a peculiar significance. Alight seemed to be shed on the horrors of slavery as if the voice ofhis childhood's friend were calling from the grave in impassionedtones, to aid the cause for which he had given his life. 

Martin Conwell, progressive, aggressive, was not a man to let hisdeeds lag behind his words. Such help as he could, he lent thecause of the oppressed. He made his home one of the stations of the"Underground Railway, " as the road to freedom for escaping slaves wascalled. Many a time in the dead of night, awakened by the noise of awagon, Russell would steal to the little attic window, to see in thelight of the lantern, a trembling black man, looking fearfully thisway and that for pursuers, being hurried into the barn. Back to bedwent Russell, where his imagination pictured all manner of horriblecruelties the slaves were suffering until the childish heart was nearto bursting with sympathy for them and with fiery indignation at theinjustice that brought them to this pitiful state. Not often did hesee them, but sometimes childish curiosity was too strong and hesearched out the cowering fugitive in the barn, and if the runawayhappened to be communicative, he heard exaggerated tales of crueltythat set even his young blood to tingling with a mighty desire toright their wrongs. Then the next night, the wagon wheels were heardagain and the slave was hurried away to the house of a cousin ofWilliam Cullen Bryant, at Cummington. As the wheels died in thedistance up the mountain road, the boyish imagination pictured theflight, on, on, into the far north till the Canada border was reachedand the slave free. Little wonder that when the war broke out, thisboy, older grown, spoke as with a tongue of fire and swept men up bythe hundreds with his impassioned eloquence, to sign the muster roll. 

One of these slaves thus helped to freedom is now Rev. J. G. Ramage, ofAtlanta, Ga. In 1905, he applied to Temple College for the degree ofLL. D. Noticing on the letter sent in reply to his request, the nameof Russell Conwell, President of the College, he wrote Dr. Conwell, telling him that in 1856 when a runaway slave he had stopped at afarmhouse at South Worthington, Mass. , and remembered the name ofConwell. Undoubtedly Martin Conwell was one of the men who had helpedhim to freedom. 

John Brown brought Fred Douglas, the colored orator, with him on oneof his visits. When Russell was told by his father that this was "acelebrated colored speaker and statesman, " the boyish eyes opened widewith amazement, and not able to control himself, he burst out in a fitof laughter, saying, "Why, he's not black, " much to the amusement ofDouglas, who afterwards told him of his life as a slave. 

The other man who so helped Russell in his younger days was the Rev. Asa Niles, a cousin of his father's who lived on a neighboring farm. He had heard of Russell's various exploits and saw that he was a boyfar above the average, that he had talents worth training. Himself ascholar and a Methodist minister, he knew the value of an education, and the worth to the world of a brilliant, forceful character withclear ideas of right, and high ideals of duty. He was a man far aheadof his times, broad-minded, spiritual in its best sense, and witha winning personality, just the man to attract a clear-sighted, keen-witted boy who quickly saw through shams and despisedaffectations. Russell at that plastic period could have fallen intono better hands. With loving interest in the boy's welfare, Asa Nilesinspired him to get the broadest education in order to make the mostof himself, yet ever held before him the highest ideals of life andmanhood. Out of the stores of his own knowledge he told him what toread, helped, encouraged, talked over his studies with him, and inevery way possible not only made them real and vital to him, but atevery step aided him to see their worth. 

His curiosity keenly aroused, his ambitions kindled by his studies, Russell was restless to be off to see this great world he had read andstudied about. The mountains suddenly seemed like prison walls holdinghim in. An uncontrollable longing swept his soul. He determined toescape. Telling no one of his intentions, one morning just beforedawn, he raised the window of the little attic in which he and hisbrother slept, climbed out over the roof of the woodshed, slipped tothe ground and made off down the valley to seek his fortune in theworld. It was a hasty resolve. In a little bundle slung over hisshoulders he had a few clothes and something to eat. How his heartthumped as he went down the familiar path in the woods, crossed thelittle brook and began the tramp toward Huntington! Every moment heexpected to hear his father's footsteps behind him. Charles might haveawakened, found him missing and roused the family! When morning camehe climbed a little hill, from which he could look back at the house. He gazed long, and his heart nearly failed him. He could see inimagination every homely detail of the living room, his father's chairto the right of the fireplace, his mother's on the left, the clockbetween the front windows, which his father wound every night. On anail hung his old rimless hat, Charlie's coat, and the little sister'ssunbonnet. His mother would soon be up and getting breakfast. Theywould all sit down without him--a lump began to rise in his throat andhe almost turned back. But something in his nature always preventedhim from giving up a thing he had once undertaken. He set his teeth, picked up his bundle and went down the road between the mountains, the woods stretching, dense, silent, on each side, the little brookkeeping close by him like the good, true friend it was. 

It was a long, long tramp to the little village of Huntington, a walkthat went for miles beneath overarching green trees, the sunlightsifting down like a shower of gold in the dim wood aisles. The wildmountain stream merged into the quiet Westfield river that flowedplacidly through little sunny meadows and rippled in a sedate way hereand there over stones as became the dignity of a river. Small whitefarmhouses, set about with golden lilies and deep crimson peonies, here and there looked out on the road. But his mind was intent on thewonderful experiences ahead of him; he walked as in a dream. ReachingHuntington, he asked a conductor if he could get a job on the train topay his way to Boston. The conductor eyed the lanky country boy withsympathetic amusement. He appreciated the situation and told Russellhe didn't think he had any job just then, but he might sit in thebaggage car and should a job turn up, it would be given him. Delightedwith this piece of good luck, Russell sat in the baggage car andjourneyed to Boston. 

He arrived at night. He found himself in a new world, a world ofnarrow streets, of hurrying people, of house after house, but in noneof them a home for him. They would not let him sit in the station allnight, as he had planned to do in his boyish inexperience, and hehad no money, for money was a scarce article in the Conwell home. Hewandered up one street and down another till finally he came to thewater. Footsore and hungry, he crawled into a big empty cask lying onLong Wharf, ate the last bit of bread and meat in his bundle, and wentto sleep. 

The next day was Sunday, not a day to find work, and he faced a verysure famine. He began again his walk of the streets. It was ontoward noon when he noticed crowds of children hurrying into a largebuilding. He stood and watched them wistfully. They made him thinkof his brother and sister at home. Suddenly an overwhelming longingseized him to be back again in the sheltering farmhouse, to see hisfather, hear his mother's loving voice, feel his sister's hand in his. Perhaps it was his forlorn expression that attracted the attention ofa gentleman passing into the building. He stopped, asked if he wouldnot like to go in; and then taking him by the hand led him in with theothers. It was Deacon George W. Chipman, of Tremont Temple, and everafterwards Russell Conwell's friend. Many, many years later, the boy, become a man, came back to this church, organized and conducted one ofthe largest and most popular Sunday School classes that famous churchhas ever known. 

After Sunday School, Deacon Chipman and Russell "talked things over. "The Deacon, amused and impressed by the original mind of the countryboy, persuaded him to go home, and the next morning put him on thetrain that carried him back to the Berkshires. 

CHAPTER V

TRYING HIS WINGS

Boyhood Days. Russell's First Case at Law. A Cure for Stage Fever. Studying Music. A Runaway Trip to Europe. 

So scanty was the income from the rocky farm that the father andmother looked about them to see how they could add to it. MirandaConwell turned to her needle and often sewed far into the night, making coats, neckties, any work she could obtain that would bring ina few dollars. She was never idle. The moment her housework was done, her needle was flying, and Russell had ever before him the picture ofhis patient mother, working, ever working, for the family good. Theonly time her hands rested was when she read her children such storiesand pointed such lessons as she knew were needed to develop childishminds and build character. She never lost sight of this in thepressing work and the need for money. She had that mental andspiritual breadth of view that could look beyond problems of theimmediate present, no matter how serious they might seem, to thegreater, more important needs coming in the future. 

Martin Conwell worked as a stonemason every spare minute, and inaddition opened a store in the mountain home in a small room adjoiningthe living room. Neighbors and the world of his day saw only a poorfarmer, stonemason and small storekeeper. But in versatility, energyand public spirit, he was far greater than his environment. Consideredonly as the man there was a largeness of purpose, a broadness ofmental and spiritual vision about him that gave a subtle atmosphere ofgreatness and unconsciously influenced his son to take big views oflife. 

In the little store one day was enacted a drama not without its effecton Russell's impressionable mind. For a brief time, the store becamea court room; a flour barrel was the judge's bench, a soap box andmilking stool, the lawyers' seats. The proceedings greatly interestedRussell, who lay flat on his breast on the counter, his heels in theair, his chin in his hands, drinking it in with ears and eyes. 

[Illustration: THE CONWELL FARMHOUSE AT SOUTH WORTHINGTON, MASS. ]

A neighbor had lost a calf, a white-faced calf with a broken horn. Inthe barn of a neighbor had been seen a white-faced calf with a brokenhorn. The coincidence was suspicions. The plaintiff declared it washis calf. The defendant swore he had never seen the lost heifer, andthat the one in his barn he had raised himself. Neighbors lent theirtestimony, for the little store was crowded, a justice of the peacefrom Northampton having come to try the case. One man said he had seenthe defendant driving a white-faced calf up the mountain one nightjust after the stolen calf had been missed from the pasture. Thedefendant intimated in no mild language that he must be a close bloodrelation to Ananias. Hot words flew back and forth between judge, lawyers and witnesses, and it began to look as if the man in whosebarn the calf was placidly munching was guilty. Just then Russell, with a chuckle, slipped from the counter and disappeared through theback door. In a minute he returned, and solemnly pushed a white-facedcalf with a broken horn squarely among the almost fighting disputants. There was a lull in the storm of angry words. Here was the lost calf. With a bawl of dismay and many gyrations of tail, it occupied thecentre of the floor. None could dispute the fact that it was the calfin question. The defendant assumed an injured, innocent air, theplaintiff looked crestfallen. Russell explained he had found the calfamong his father's cows. But, knowing the true situation, he hadenjoyed the heated argument too hugely to produce the calf earlier inthe case. 

The event caused much amusement among the neighbors. Some said if theyever were hailed to court, they should employ Russell as their lawyer. The women, when they dropped in to see his mother, called him thelittle lawyer. The boyish ambition to be a minister faded. Once morehe went to building castles in Spain, but this time they had a legalcapstone. 

Thus the years rolled by much as they do with any boy on a farm. Of work there was plenty, but he found time to become a proficientskater, and a strong, sturdy swimmer, to learn and take delight inoutdoor sports, all of which helped to build a constitution like iron, and to give him an interest in such things which he has neverlost. The boys of Temple College find in him not only a pastor andpresident, but a sympathetic and understanding friend in all forms ofhealthy, honorable sport. 

Attending a Fourth of July parade in Springfield, he was so impressedwith the marching and manoeuvres of the troops that he returned home, formed a company of his schoolmates, drilled and marched them as ifthey were already an important part of the G. A. R. He secured a book ontactics and studied it with his usual thoroughness and perseverance. He presented his company with badges, and one of the relics of hischildhood days is a wooden sword he made himself out of a piece ofboard. Little did any one dream that this childish pastime would inlater years become the serious work of a man. 

In all the school and church entertainments he took an active part. His talent for organizing and managing showed itself early, while hismagnetism and enthusiasm swept his companions with him, eager only todo his bidding. Many were the entertainments he planned and carriedthrough. Recitations, dialogues, little plays all were presented underhis management to the people of South Worthington. It was these thatgave him the first taste of the fascination of the stage and set himto thinking of the dazzling career of an actor. He is not the onlycountry boy that has dreamed of winning undying fame on the boards, but not every one received such a speedy and permanent cure. 

"One day in the height of the maple sugar season, " says Burdette, inhis excellent life of Mr. Conwell, "The Modern Temple and Templars, ""Russell was sent by his father with a load of the sugar toHuntington. The ancient farm wagon complicated, doubtless, with sundryConwell improvements, drawn by a venerable horse, was so well loadedthat the seat had to be left out, and the youthful driver was forcedto stand. Down deep in the valley, the road runs through a densewoodland which veiled the way in solitude and silence. The very place, thought Russell, for a rehearsal of the part he had in a play to begiven shortly at school; a beautiful grade, thought the horse, to trota little and make up time. Russell had been cast for a part of a crazyman--a character admirably adapted for the entire cast of the averageamateur dramatic performer. He had very little to say, a sort of'The-carriage-waits-my-lord' declamation, but he had to say it withthrilling and startling earnestness. He was to rush in on a love scenebubbling like a mush-pot with billing and cooing, and paralyze thelovers by shrieking 'Woe! Woe! unto ye all, ye children of men!'Throwing up his arms, after the manner of the Fourth of July orator'sjustly celebrated windmill gesture, he roared, in his thunderousvoice: 'Woe! Woe! unto ye--'

"That was as far as the declamation got, although the actor wentconsiderably farther. The obedient horse, never averse to standingstill, suddenly and firmly planted his feet and stood--motionless as apainted horse upon a painted highway. Russell, obedient to the laws ofinertia, made a parabola over the dashboard, landed on the back of thepatient beast, ricochetted to the ground, cutting his forehead on theshaft as he descended, a scar whereof he carries unto this day, andplunged into a yielding cushion of mud at the roadside. "

He returned home, a confused mixture of blood, mud, black eyes andtorn clothes. Such a condition must be explained. It could notbe turned aside by any off-handed joke. The jeers and jibes, theunsympathetic and irritating comments effectually killed any desirehe cherished for the life of the stage. It became a sore subject. Hedidn't even want it mentioned in his hearing. He never again thoughtof it seriously as a life work. 

But one thing these entertainments did that was of great value. Theydeveloped and fostered a love of music and eventually led to hisgaining the musical education which has proven of such value to him. He had a voice of singular sweetness and great power. At school, atchurch, in the little social gatherings of the neighborhood, wheneverthere was singing his voice led. It was almost a passion with him. Atthe few parades and entertainments he saw in nearby towns, he watchedthe musicians fascinated. He was consumed with a desire to learn toplay. Inventive as he was and having already made so many thingsuseful about the farm or in the house, it is a wonder he did notimmediately begin the making of some musical instrument rather than gowithout it. Probably he would, if an agent had not appeared for theEstey Organ Company. They were beginning to make the little homeorgans which have since become an ornament of nearly every countryparlor. But they were rare in those days and the price to MartinConwell, almost prohibitive. Knowing Russell's love of music, thefather fully realized the pleasure an organ in the home would give hisson. But the price was beyond him. He offered the man every dollar hefelt he could afford. But it was ten dollars below the cost of theorgan and the agent refused it. 

Martin Conwell felt he must not spend more on a luxury, and the agentleft. Crossing the fields to seek another purchaser, he met MirandaConwell. She asked him if her husband had bought the organ. His answerwas a keen disappointment The mother's heart had sympathized with theboy's passion for music and knew the joy such a possession would be toRussell. Ever ready to sacrifice herself, she told the man she wouldpay him the ten dollars, if he would wait for it, but not to let herhusband know. The agent returned to Martin Conwell, told him he wouldaccept his offer, and in a short time a brand new organ was installedin the farmhouse. Miranda Conwell sewed later at nights, that was all. Not till she had earned the ten dollars with her needle did she tellher husband why the agent had, with such surprising celerity, changedhis mind in regard to the price. 

Russell's joy in the organ was unbounded, and the mother was more thanrepaid for her extra work by his pleasure and delight. He immediatelyplunged unaided into the study of music, and he never gave up until hewas complete master of the organ. His was no half-hearted love. Thework and drudgery connected with practising never daunted him. He keptsteadily at it until he could roll out the familiar songs andhymns while the small room fairly rang with their melody. He alsoimprovised, composing both words and music, a gift that went with himinto the ministry and which has given the membership of Grace BaptistChurch, Philadelphia, many beautiful hymns and melodies. 

Later he learned the bass viol, violoncello and cornet, and made moneyby playing for parties and entertainments in his neighborhood. Yearsafterward, when pastor of Grace Church, and with the Sunday Schoolon an excursion to Cape May, he saw a cornet lying on a bench on thepier. Seized with a longing to play again this instrument of hisboyhood, he picked it up and began softly a familiar air. Soon lost tohis surroundings, he played on and on. At last remembering where hewas, he laid down the instrument and walked away. The owner, who hadreturned, followed him and offered him first five dollars and then tento play that night for a dance at Congress Hall. 

Martin Conwell, during Russell's boyhood days, carefully guarded hisson from being spoiled by the flattery of neighbors and friends. Herealized that Russell was a boy in many ways above the average, buthis practical common sense prevented him from taking such pride inRussell's various achievements as to let him become spoiled andconceited. Many a whipping Russell received for the personal songs hecomposed about the neighbors. But that was not prohibitive. The verynext night, Russell would hold up to ridicule the peculiarity of someone in the neighborhood, much to his victim's chagrin and to theamusement of the listeners. He was forever inventing improvements forthe fishing apparatus, oars, boats, coasting sleds, household and farmutensils, often forgetting the tasks his father had given him whiledoing it. Naturally, this exasperated Martin Conwell, who had no helpon the farm but the boys, and the rod would again be brought intoactive service. Once, after whipping him for such neglect of work--hehad left the cider apples out in the frost--Martin Conwell asked hisson's pardon because he had invented an improved ox-sled that was ofgreat practical value. 

When he was fifteen he ran away again. No friendly Deacon Chipmaninterfered this time, nor is it likely he would easily have beenturned from the project, for he planned to go to Europe. He went toChicopee to an uncle's, whom he frankly told of his intended trip. Theuncle kept Russell for a day or two by various expedients, while hewrote to his father telling him Russell was there and what he intendeddoing. The father wrote back saying to give him what money he neededand let him go. So Russell started on his journey over the sea. Heworked his way on a cattle steamer from New York to Liverpool. But itwas a homesick boy that roamed around in foreign lands, and as he hassaid most feelingly since, "I felt that if I could only get back home, I would never, never leave it again. " He did not stay abroad long andwhen he returned to his home, his father greeted him as if he had beenabsent a few hours, and never in any way, by word or action, referredto the subject. In fact, so far as Martin Conwell appeared, Russellmight have been no farther than Huntington. 

Thus boyhood days passed with their measure of work and their measureof play. He lived the healthy, active life of a farm boy, taking akeen interest in the affairs of the young people of the neighborhood, amusing the older heads by his mischievous pranks. He diligently andperseveringly studied in school hours and out. He read every book hecould get hold of. He was sometimes disobedient, often intractable, inno way different from thousands of other farm boys of those days orthese. 

But the times were coming which would test his mettle. Would hecontinue to climb as he had done after the eagle's nest, thoughcompelled many times to go to the very ground and begin over again?

Would the experiences of life transmute into pure gold, theseundeveloped traits of character or prove them mere dross? Itrested with him. He was the alchemist, as is every other man. Thephilosopher's stone is in every one's hands. 

CHAPTER VI

OUT OF THE HOME NEST

School Days at Wilbraham Academy. The First School Oration and ItsHumiliating End. The Hour of Prayer in the Conwell Home at the Time ofJohn Brown's Execution. 

The carefree days of boyhood rapidly drew to a close. The serious workof life was beginning. The bitter struggle for an education was athand. And because one boy did so struggle, thousands of boys now arebeing given the broadest education, practically free. 

Russell had gone as far in his studies as the country school couldtake him. Should he stop there as his companions were doing and settledown to the work of the farm? The outlook for anything else was almosthopeless. He had absolutely no money, nor could his father spare himany. He knew no other work than farming. It was a prospect to daunteven the most determined, yet Russell Conwell is not the only farmer'sboy who has looked such a situation in the face and succeeded in spiteof it. Nor were helping hands stretched out in those days to aidambitious boys, as they are in these. 

Asa Niles, matching Russell's progress with loving interest, toldMartin Conwell the boy ought to go to Wilbraham Academy. His own sonWilliam was going, and he strongly urged that Charles and RussellConwell enter at the same time. It was no light decision for thefather to make. He needed the boys in the work on the farm. Not onlywas he unable to help them, but it was a decided loss to let them go. Long and earnest were the consultations the father and mother held. The mother, willing to sacrifice herself to the utmost, said, ofcourse, "let them go, " deciding she could earn something to help themalong by taking in more sewing. So it was decided, and in the fallof 1858, Russell and his brother entered the Academy of Wilbraham, asmall town about twelve miles east from Springfield. 

It was bitter, uphill work. All the money the two boys had, both topay their tuition and their board, they earned. They worked for thenear-by farmers. They spent long days gathering chestnuts and walnutsat a few cents a quart. They split wood, they did anything they couldfind to do. In fact, they worked as hard and as long as though nostudies were awaiting to be eagerly attacked when the exhaustinglabor was finished. Such tasks interfered with their studies, so thatRussell never stood very high in his Academy classes. Part of the timethey lived in a small room on the outskirts of the village, barren ofall furniture save the absolutely necessary, and for six weeks at astretch, lived on nothing but mush and milk. Their clothes were ofthe cheapest kind, countrified in cut and make, a decided contrastto those of their fellow students, who came from homes of wealth andrefinement It is very easy for outsiders and older heads to talkphilosophically of being above such things, but young, sensitive boysfeel such a position keenly and none but those who have actuallyendured such a martyrdom of pride know what they suffer. It takes thegrittiest kind of perseverance to face such slights, to seem not tosee the amused glance, not to hear the sneering comment, not to noticethe contemptuous shrug. 

Such slights Russell endured daily from certain of his classmates, and though he realized fully that the opinion of these was of littlevalue, nevertheless they hurt. But to the world he stood his groundunflinchingly, even if there were secret heartaches. He studiedhard, and what he studied he learned. He had his own peculiar wayof studying. Once he was missing from his classes several days. Theteachers reported it to the principal, Dr. Raymond, who investigated. He found Russell completely absorbed in history and mastering it at amile-a-minute gait. Dr. Raymond was wise in the management of boys, especially such a boy as Russell, and he reported to the teachers, "Let him alone. Conwell is working out his own education, and it isn'tworth while to disturb him. "

His passion for debate and oratory found full scope in the debatingsocieties of the Academy. These welcomed him with open arms. He wasso quick with his witty repartee, could so readily turn an opponent'sarguments against him, that the nights it was known he would speak, found the "Old Club" hall always crowded to hear "that boy from thecountry. "

Thus working as hard as though he were doing nothing else, andstudying as hard as though he were not working, Russell made his waythrough two terms of the academic year. Nobody knows or ever willknow, all he suffered. Often almost on the point of starvation, yettoo proud and sensitive to ask for help, he toiled on, working by dayand studying by night. He never thought of giving up the fight andgoing back to the farm. But funds completely ran out for the springterm and he yielded the struggle for a brief while, returning to helphis father, or to earn what he could teaching school, or working onneighboring farms, saving every cent like a very miser for the comingyear's tuition. In addition, he kept up with his studies, so that whenhe returned the next fall, he went on with his class the same as if hehad attended for the entire year. 

The second year was a repetition of the first, work and study, grinding poverty, glorious perseverance. Again the spring term foundhim out of funds, and this time he replenished by teaching school atBlandford, Massachusetts. Among his pupils here was a bully of theworst type, whose conduct had caused most of the former teachers toresign. In fact, he was quite proud of his ability to give the schoola holiday, and as on former occasions, made his boasts that itwouldn't be long before the new teacher would take a vacation. Theother pupils watched with eager curiosity for the conflict. In duecourse of time it came. Russell at first dealt with him kindly. Ithadn't been so many years since he himself had been the cause ofnumerous uproars at school. But this youth was not of the kind to beimpressed by good treatment. He simply took it as a showing of thewhite feather on the part of the new teacher and became bolder in hismisconduct. On a day, when he was unruly beyond all pardon, Russelltook down the birch and invited him up before the school to receivethe usual punishment. The great occasion had come. The children waitedwith bated breath. The boy refused openly, sneeringly. The nextmoment, he thought lightning had struck him. He was grabbed by theneck, held with a grip of iron despite all his struggles, whippedbefore the gaping school, taken to the door and kicked out in thesnow. Then the school lessons proceeded. It made a sensation, ofcourse. Some of the parents wanted to request the new teacher toresign. But others rallied to his support and protested to the schoolboard that the right man had been found at last. And so Russell heldthe post until the school term was over. Thirty-five years after, Russell Conwell, pastor of the Baptist Temple, was asked to head apetition to get this same evil doer out of Sing Sing prison. 

But despite his hard work and hard study at Wilbraham, the spirit offun cropped out as persistently as in his younger days at the countryschool. A chance to play a good joke was not to be missed. At one ofthe school entertainments, a student whom few liked was to take part. Relatives of his had given a large sum of money to the Academy, andon this account he somewhat lorded it over the other boys. He was, inaddition, foppish in his dress, and on account of his money, position, and tailor, felt the country boys of the class a decided drawback tohis social status. So the country boys decided to "get even, " and theyneeded no other leader while Russell Conwell was about. Finally itcame the dandy's turn to go on the platform to deliver a recitation. Just as he stepped out of the little anteroom before the audience, Russell, with deft fingers, fastened a paper jumping-jack to the tailof his coat, where it dangled back of his legs in plain view of theaudience but unobserved by himself. With every gesture the figurejumped, climbed, contorted, and went through all manner of gymnastics. The more enthusiastic became the young orator, the more active thetiny figure in his rear. The audience went into convulsions. Utterlyunable to tell what was the matter, he finally retired, red andconfused, and the audience wiped away the tears of laughter. 

It was at one of these entertainments that Russell himself met with abitter defeat. A public debate was announced in which he was to takepart. His classmates had spread abroad the story of his eloquence andthe hall was packed to hear him. Knowing that it would be a greatoccasion and conscious of his poor clothes, he determined to make animpression by his speech. He prepared it with the utmost care, andto "make assurance doubly sure, " committed it to memory, a thing herarely did. His turn came. There was an expectant rustle through theaudience, some almost audible comments on his clothes, his height, histhinness. He cleared his voice. He started to say the first word. Itwas gone. Frantically he searched his memory for that speech. His mindwas a blank. Again he cleared his voice and wrestled fiercely with hisinner consciousness. Only one phrase could he remember, and shoutingin his thunderous tones, "Give me liberty or give me death, " sat down, "not caring much which he got, " as Burdette says, "so it came quicklyand plenty of it. "

It was while at Wilbraham that he laid down text books and steppedaside for a brief space to pay honor to a hero. Sorrow hung like apall over the little home at South Worthington. In far-off Virginia, a brave, true-hearted man had raised a weak arm against the hosts ofslavery, raised it and been stricken down. John Brown had been tried, convicted and sentenced to be hanged. The day of his execution was aday of mourning in the Conwell home. As the hour for the deed drewnear, the father called the family into the little living room whereBrown had so often sat among them. And during the hour while thetragedy was enacted in Virginia, the family sat silent with bowedheads doing reverence to the memory of this man who with single-mindedearnestness went forward so fearlessly when others held back, tostrike the shackles from those in chains. 

It was a solemn hour, an hour in which worldly ambitions faded beforethe sublime spectacle of a man freely, calmly giving his very lifebecause he had dared to live out his honest belief that all men shouldbe free. Like a kaleidoscope, Brown's history passed through Russell'smind as he sat there. He saw the brutal whipping of the little slaveboy which had so aroused Brown's anger when, a small boy himself, heled cattle through the western forests. Russell's hands clenched ashe pictured it and he felt willing to fight as Brown had done, single-handed and alone if need be, to right so horrible a wrong. He could see how the idea had grown with John Brown's growth andstrengthened with his strength until he came to manhood with a singlepurpose dominating his life, and a will to do it that could neither bebroken nor bent. He pictured him in Kansas when son after son was laidon the altar of liberty as unflinchingly as Abraham held the knife athis own son's breast at God's behest. Then the first "blow at Harper'sFerry in the cause of liberty for all men--the capture of the townof three thousand by twenty-two men, and now this--the publicexecution--the fearless spirit that looked only to God for guidance, that feared neither man nor man's laws, stopped on the very thresholdof the supreme effort for which he had planned his life. Stopped? Itwas the 2nd Massachusetts Regiment of Infantry that was the first tosing on its way South, that song, afterward sung by the armies of anation to the steady tramp of feet, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave, But his soul goes marching on. "

CHAPTER VII

WAR'S ALARMS

College Days at Yale. The Outbreak of the Civil War. PatrioticSpeechmaking. New York and Henry Ward Beecher. 

School days at Wilbraham ended, Russell determined to climb higher. Asyet, he scarcely knew the purpose of his studying. Ambitions seethedin him to know, to be able to do. He only realized that he must havethe tools ready when the work came. Not daunted, therefore, by thebitter experiences at Wilbraham, Russell determined to go to Yale. This meant a stern fight indeed, one that would call out all hisreserves of determination, perseverance and indifference to the jeersand jibes of unthinking and unfeeling classmates. But he did notflinch at the prospect. His brother Charles went with him, and inthe fall of '60 they entered Yale College. If poverty was bitter atWilbraham, it was bitterer here. They were utter strangers amonghundreds of boys from all parts of the country, the majority of themcoming from homes of luxury and with money for all their needs. AtWilbraham, there had been a certain number of boys from their ownsection, many of them poor, though few so poor as themselves. They hadnot felt so altogether alone as they did at Yale. It is perhaps forthis reason that so little is known of Russell Conwell's career atYale. He was as unobtrusive as possible. "Silent as the Sphinx, " somedescribe him. His sensitive nature withdrew into itself, and since hecould not mingle with his classmates on a ground of equality, he keptto himself, alone, silent, studying, working, but telling no one howkeenly he felt the difference between his own position and that of hisfellow students. He worked for the nearby farmers as at Wilbraham anddid anything that he could to earn money. But his clothes were poor, his manner of living the cheapest, and except in classes, his fellowstudents met him little. 

He took the law course and followed fully the classical course at thesame time--a feat no student at that time had ever done and few, ifany, since. How he managed it, working as hard as he did at thesame time, to earn money, seems impossible to comprehend. His ironconstitution, for one thing, that seemed capable of standing anystrain, helped him. And his remarkable ability to photograph wholepages of his text books on his memory was another powerful ally. Hecould reel off page after page of Virgil, Homer, Blackstone--anythinghe "memorized" in this unusual fashion. Well for him that he graspedthe opportunity to learn this method presented him as a child. Butit has always been one of the traits of his character to seeopportunities where others walk right over them, and to seize and makeuse of them. 

He did not register in the classical course as he was too poor to paythe tuition fee, nor did he join any of the clubs, as he could notafford it. He seldom appeared in debates or the moot courts, forhe was so shabbily dressed he felt he would not be welcome. It wasundoubtedly these humiliating experiences, combined with certain ofhis studies and reading, that caused him to drift into an atheistictrain of thought. Working hard, living poor, desiring so much, yeton all sides he saw boys with all the opportunities he longedfor, utterly indifferent to them. He saw boys spending in riotousdissipation the money that would have meant so much to him. He sawthem recklessly squandering health, time, priceless educationalopportunities, for the veriest froth of pleasure. He saw them sowingthe wind, yet to his inexperienced eyes not reaping the whirlwind, butfaring far more prosperously than he who worked and studied hard andyet had not what they threw so lightly away. It was all at variancewith his mother's teaching, with such of the preaching at the littlewhite church as he had heard. Bible promises, as he interpreted them, were not fulfilled. So he scoffed, cynically, bitterly, and said, asmany another has done before he has learned the lessons of the world'shard school, "There is no God. " And having said it, he took rather apride in it and said it openly, boastingly. 

As at Wilbraham, funds ran out before the school year was completedand he left Yale and taught district school during the day and vocaland instrumental music in the evenings. 

But into this eager, undaunted struggle for an education came thetrumpet call to arms. With the memory of John Brown like a living coalin his heart, with the pictures of the cowering, runaway slaves everbefore his eyes, he flung away his books and was one of the first toenlist. But his father interfered. Russell was only eighteen. MartinConwell went to the recruiting officer and had his name taken from therolls. It was a bitter disappointment. But since he might not helpwith his hands, he spoke with his tongue. All his pent-up enthusiasmflowed out in impassioned speeches that brought men by the hundreds tothe recruiting offices. His fame spread up and down the Connecticutvalley and wherever troops were to be raised, "the boy" was in demand. 

"His youthful oratory, " says the author of "Scaling the Eagle's Nest, ""was a wonderful thing which drew crowds of excited listeners whereverhe went. Towns sent for him to help raise their quotas of soldiers, and ranks speedily filled before his inspiring and patrioticspeeches. In 1862 I remember a scene at Whitman Hall in Westfield, Massachusetts, which none who were there can forget. Russell haddelivered two addresses there before. On that night there were twoaddresses before his by prominent lawyers, but there was evidentimpatience to hear 'The boy. ' When he came forward there was the mostdeafening applause. He really seemed inspired by miraculous powers. Every auditor was fascinated and held closely bound. There was for atime breathless suspense, and then at some telling sentence the wholebuilding shook with wild applause. At its close a shower of bouquetsfrom hundreds of ladies carpeted the stage in a moment, and men fromall parts of the hall rushed forward to enlist. "

The adulation and flattery showered upon him were enough to turn anyother's head. But it made no impression upon him. Heart, mind and soulhe was wrapped up in the cause. He was burning with zeal to help theoppressed and suffering. His words poured from a heart overflowingwith pity, love, and indignation. Never once did he think of himself, only of those in bonds crying, "Come over and help us. "

When Lincoln made his great address in Cooper Institute in 1860, Russell was there. It was a longer journey from New England to NewYork in those days than it is now, and longer yet for a boy who had solittle money, but he let no obstacle keep him away. 

He utilized his visit also to hear Beecher, the man who had taken sopowerful a hold of his childish fancy. Ever since those boyish dayswhen his mother read Beecher's sermons to him, and standing on the biggray rock he had imagined himself another Beecher, he had longed tohear this great man. It was only this childish desire holding fast tohim through the year that took him now, for church-going itself had noattraction for him. 

He sat on the steps of the gallery and heard this wonderful man preacha sermon in which he illustrated an auctioneer selling a negro girl atthe block. He sat as one entranced. So did the immense audience, heldspellbound by the scene so graphically pictured. It was the firstinteresting sermon he had ever heard. It made a tremendous impressionon him, not only in itself, but as a vivid contrast between theformal, rattling-of-dry-bones sermon and the live, vital discoursethat takes hold of a man's mind and heart and compels him to go outin the world and do things for the good of his fellow men. Long itremained in his memory, but the greatest inspiration from it did notcome till later years, when suddenly it stood forth as if illumined, to throw a brilliant radiance on a path he had decided to tread. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

WHILE THE CONFLICT RAGED

Lincoln's Call for 100, 000 Men. Enlistment. Captain Conwell. In Campat Springfield, Mass. The Famous Gold-sheathed Sword. 

In 1862, Lincoln sent out an earnest call for 100, 000 men for the war. Russell was not longer to be denied, and his father permitted him toenlist. What silent agony, what earnest prayers for his safety wentup from his mother's heart, only other mothers in those terrible daysknew. 

He raised a company from Worthington, Chesterfield, Huntington, Russell, Blandford and the neighboring towns and was unanimouslyelected captain, though only nineteen. His earnest, fiery speeches hadalready made him famous, and when it was known he had enlisted and wasraising a company, there was a rush to get into it, and the men aswith one voice, demanded that he be their captain. No one ever thoughtof canvassing against him. A committee was appointed to wait onGovernor Andrew to persuade him to commission Russell in spite of hisage, and when he received the appointment, the cheers and applause ofthe enthusiastic, the quiet satisfaction of the sedate, showed theplace which he had in their hearts. It is almost incomprehensible tothose not acquainted with the man, but those who have come in contactwith him, know what a hold he would soon gain over those "MountainBoys, " as the company was called. His kindly sympathy would quicklymake them feel that in their captain, each had a warm personal friend. His generous heart would back up that belief with a hundred and onelittle acts of thoughtful kindness. Over each and every one would beexercised a watchful care that cheered the long days, lightened heavyloads, lessened discomforts. It is little wonder that their devotionto him amounted almost to adoration. Gray-haired men followed him asproudly as though his years matched theirs. Indeed, to their loyaltywas added a fatherly feeling of guardianship over him, because of hisyouth, that brought a new pleasure into the relationship. The companywas knit together with the bonds of loving comradeship as were fewothers. 

The rendezvous of the company was at Huntington, and there a banquetwas given before the troops departed for war. Proud day for him whenhe marched down the familiar road from South Worthington, through theautumn woods with their slowly falling leaves, their shadowy forestaisles all glorious now with the banners of autumn, past the whitefarmhouses with their golden lilies, the faithful little brook singingever at his side. Sad day for his mother as she watched him go, longlooking after him, till she could see no more for tears. 

From Huntington the company went into camp at Springfield. And nowcame into use, those tactics and drills he had studied as a boy, andothers he had been secretly studying ever since the war broke out. Hismen were astonished to find how perfectly at home he was in militarytactics. It further added to their pride in him. They fully expectedhim to know as little as they, but when he came to his work fullyprepared, to their admiration of him as an orator, their love as aleader, was now added their confidence as an officer. 

Camp life at Springfield made war no longer a glorious contemplationbut an uncomfortable reality. The ground for a bed, a spadefulof earth for a pillow, sharp mountain winds, cold autumn storms, insufficient food, hinted at the hardships to follow. The gold and thealloy in the men's characters began to shine out, and Company F soonrealized in practical ways, the nature of the man who led them. Hisnew uniform overcoat went to a shivering boy, his rations were dividedwith those less fortunate, his blankets were given to a comrade inneed. Always it was of his men, not himself, he thought. 

Before leaving camp for the seat of war, Captain Conwell was presentedwith a sword by his Company, bearing this inscription:--

"Presented to Captain Russell H. Conwell by the soldiers of Company F, 46th Mass. Vol. Militia, known as 'The Mountain Boys. ' Vera Amicitiaest sempiterna. (True friendship is eternal. )" Colonel Shurtleff madethe speech of presentation. The passionately eloquent reply of theboy captain is yet remembered by those who heard it. He received thebeautiful, glittering weapon in silence. Slowly he drew the gleamingsteel from its golden sheath and solemnly held it upward as ifdedicating it to heaven, the sunlight bathing the blade with blindingflashes of light. His eyes were fixed upon the steel, as if in a raptvision, he swept the centuries past, the centuries to come, and sawwhat it stood for in the destinies of men. Breathless silence fellupon his waiting comrades. Thus for a few moments he stood and then hespoke to the sword. 

"He called up the shade of the sword of that mighty warrior Joshua, which purified a polluted land with libations of blood, and madeit fit for the heritage of God's people; the sword of David, thatestablished the kingdom of Israel; the sword of that resistlessconqueror, Alexander, that pierced the heart of the Orient; the Romanshort sword, the terrible gladius, that carved out for the Caesarsthe sovereignty of the world; the sword of Charlemagne, writing itsmaster's glorious deeds in mingling chapters of fable and history; thesword of Gustavus Adolphus, smiting the battalions of the puissantWallenstein with defeat and overthrow even when its master lay dead onthe field of Lutzen; the sword of Washington, drawn for human freedomand sheathed in peace, honor, and victory; then he bade the swordremember all it had done in shaping the destinies of men and nations;how it had written on the tablets of history in letters red and lurid, the drama of the ages; closing, he called upon it now, in the battlefor the Union, to strike hard and strike home for freedom, forjustice, in the name of God and the Right; to fail not in the work towhich it was called until every shackle in the land was broken, everybondman free, and every foul stain of dishonor cleaned from the flag. "

CHAPTER IX

IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT

Company F at Newberne, N. C. The Fight at Batchelor's Creek. TheGoldsboro Expedition. The Battle of Kingston. The Gum SwampExpedition. 

Breaking camp, the 46th left the beautiful, placid scenery aboutSpringfield, its silver river, its silent mountains, for Boston, wherethey embarked for North Carolina, November 5th, 1862. They sailed outof Boston Harbor in the teeth of a winter gale which increased so infury that the boat was compelled to put back. When they finally didleave, the sea was still very rough and they had a slow, stormypassage. 

It goes without saying that many of the men were ill. The boat wascrowded, the accommodations insufficient, and numbers of the MountainBoys had never been on the water before. To the confusion of handlingsuch a body of men was added inexperience in such work. The members ofCompany F would have fared badly had it not been for the forethoughtof their boy captain. It seemed as if he had passed beforehand inmental review, the experiences of these weeks and anticipated theirneeds. Out of his own funds, he laid in a stock of medicines anddelicacies for the sick. Indeed, those who know, say that he expendedall of his pay in sutler's stores and various things to make his menmore comfortable. Night and day, he was with those who suffered, cheering, sympathizing, nursing. He was the life of the ship. His mensaw that his kindness and comradeship were not of the superficialorder, but genuine, sincere, a part of his very self and they became, if possible, more passionately attached to him than ever. 

The placid Neuse river was a glad sight when at last they reached itsmouth and steamed up to Newberne, North Carolina. General Burnside hadalready captured the town and Company F began army duties in earnestwith garrison work in the little Southern city, with its long dulllines of earthworks, its white tents, its fleet of gunboats floatinglazily on the river. The constant tramp of soldiers' feet echoed alongthe side-walks of this erstwhile quiet, Southern town. Sentries stoodon the corners challenging passers-by, wharves creaked under the loadsof ordnance and quartermasters' stores. Army wagons and ambulanceswere constantly passing in the street, all strange and novel at firstto the Mountain Boys but soon familiar. Drilling and guard dutyfilled their days. Morning and afternoon they drilled, and the actualpossession of the enemies' country, the warlike aspect of everythingabout them, made drilling a far more real and important matter than ithad seemed at home. Captain Conwell felt his responsibility and threwhimself into the work with an earnestness that infected his men. Theywould rather drill with him two hours than with any other officer ahalf hour. They not only caught the contagion of his enthusiasm, buthe changed the dull, monotonous drudgery of it, into real, fascinatingwork by marching them into seemingly hopeless situations and then insome unexpected and surprising way, extricating them. Nor did hespare himself any of the unpleasant phases of the work. One day, theColonel, while drilling the regiment, noticed that many of the men ofCompany F marched far out of their places to avoid a mudhole in theroad. He marched and countermarched them over the same ground tocompel the men to keep their rank and file regardless of the mud. Captain Conwell saw his object, and himself plunged into the mire, hismen followed, and were thus saved the reprimand which threatened. 

During these days, Captain Conwell kept up with the law studiesabandoned at Yale. Every spare minute, he devoted to his books andcommitted to memory, one whole volume of Blackstone during the term ofhis first enlistment Not many of the soldiers so used their hoursoff duty. But it is this turning of every minute to account that hasenabled Dr. Conwell to accomplish so much. He has made his life countfor a half dozen of most person's by never wasting a moment. 

The monotony of garrison duty was broken first by a small fight atBatchelor's Creek, seven miles above Newbern, but only four companieswere engaged. The Mountain Boys saw the first blood spilled atKingston and gained there the first glimpse of the horrors of war. Nearly the entire marching force was sent into the interior on thisexpedition, known as the Goldsboro expedition, the object being to cutthe Weldon railroad at Goldsboro, North Carolina. It was a hard marchwith short and uncertain halts and occasional cavalry skirmishes. AtKingston, they met the enemy in force. The Confederates were massedabout the bridge over the Neuse river and held it bravely till thecharge of the 9th New Jersey and 10th Connecticut drove them fromtheir position and left the woods and a little open field covered withthe dead and dying. The 46th Massachusetts followed the retreatingarmy and had that first experience with the grim, bloody side of warthat always makes such a strong impression on the green soldier. 

They bivouacked at Kingston and next day marched to the Weldonrailroad, reaching it at the bridge below Goldsboro, where theConfederates had massed a large body of troops to protect their linesof communication and supplies. This was a battle in earnest, theartillery was deafening, and the enemy repeatedly charged the Unionlines. The Northern batteries were on a knoll in front, and at thevery moment that a long line of gray was seen approaching through thisfield and the Massachusetts men were ordered to lie down, so that theshot and shell could pass over them, their boy captain walked openlyforward to the batteries and stood there in the smoke. Careless ofhimself, he yet realized to the full the meaning of this grim duel, for when the fight was over and the Northern men cheering, he wassilent Captain Walkley asked why he did not cheer with the others. "Too many hearts made sad to-day, " was the significant reply thatshowed he counted the cost to its bitter end, though he went forwardnone the less bravely. 

Long, monotonous days of garrison duty followed for the men, days ofdrilling, of idling up and down the streets of the dull Southern town. But Captain Conwell used his spare minutes to advantage, and whenno work connected with his company or the personal welfare of hiscomrades occupied him, he was studying. Then came the order to drivethe Confederates from a fort they were erecting on the NewbernRailroad about thirty miles inland. This expedition, known as the GumSwamp Expedition, was an experience that tested the mettle of the menand the resources of the young captain, and an experience none of thesurvivors ever forgot. It was a forced march, a quick charge. TheConfederates fled leaving their fort unfinished. The Union men havingsuccessfully completed their work, began the return to Newberne, andhere disaster overtook them. The Confederates hung on their rear, riddling their ranks with shot and shell. Suffering, maddened, with noway to turn and fight, for the enemy kept themselves well hidden, withno way of escape ahead if they remained on the road, they plunged intothe swamp, that swept up black and dismal to the very edge of thehighway. The Confederate prisoners with them, warned them of theirdanger, but the men were not to be stayed when a deadly rain of theenemy's balls was thinning their ranks every minute. The swamp was oneblack ooze with water up to their waists, a tangle of grass, reeds, cypress trees, bushes. Loaded down with their heavy clothing, andtheir army accoutrements, one after another the men sank from sheerexhaustion. No man could succor his brother. It was all he could do todrag himself through the mire that sucked him down like some terrible, silent monster of the black, slimy depths. But Captain Conwell wouldnot desert a man. He could not see his comrades left to die before hisvery eyes, those men who came right from his own mountain town, hisown boy friends, the ones who had enlisted under him, marched anddrilled with him. Rather would he perish in the swamp with them. Heworked like a Hercules, encouraging, helping, carrying some of themore exhausted. A wet, straggling remnant reached Newberne. Even then, when Captain Conwell found that two of his own company were missing, he plunged back into the swamp to rescue them. Hours passed, and justas a relief expedition was starting to search for him, he came back, his hat gone, his uniform torn into rags, but with one of the men withhim and the other left on a fallen tree with a path blazed to lead therescuers to him. No heart could withstand such devotion as that. Youngand old, it touched his men so deeply, they could not speak of itunmoved. They would gladly have died for him if need be, as onedid later, changing by his heroic act the whole current of RussellConwell's life. 

This same earnest desire to save that made him plunge back into thatswamp, regardless of self, is with him still to-day, now that hiswhole soul is consumed with a longing to save men from moral death. Helets nothing stand in his way of reaching out a succoring hand. Thenit was his comrades that he loved with such unselfish devotion. Now, every man is his brother and his heart goes out with the same earnestdesire to help those who need help. The genuineness, the unselfishnessof it goes straight to every man's heart. It binds men to him as inthe old days, and it gives them new faith in themselves. The loveof humanity in his heart is, and always has been, a clear spring, unpolluted by love of self, by ambition, by any worldly thing. 

CHAPTER X

THE SWORD AND THE SCHOOL BOOK

Scouting at Bogue Sound. Capt. Conwell Wounded. The Second Enlistment. Jealousy and Misunderstanding. Building of the First Free School forColored Children. Attack on Newport Barracks. Heroic Death of JohnRing. 

Once more, garrison duty laid its dull hand on the troops, varied bylittle encounters that broke the monotony and furnished the materialfor many campfire stories, but otherwise did little damage. The meneagerly welcomed these scouting expeditions, and when an especiallydangerous one to Bogue Sound was planned, and Company F, eager to beselected, Captain Conwell personally interceded with the Colonel thathis men might be given the task. The region into which they were sentwas known to be full of rebels, and as they approached the dangerzone, Captain Conwell ordered his men to lie down, while he wentforward to reconnoitre. Noticing a Confederate officer behind a tree, he stole to the tree, and reaching as far around as he could, beganfiring with his revolver. Not being experienced in the shooting ofmen and believing since it must be done, "'twere well it were donequickly, " he shot all his loads in quick succession. His enemy, morewily, waited till the Captain's ammunition was gone and then slowlyand with steady aim began returning the fire. But Captain Conwell'scomrades watching from a distance saw big peril, and disobeyingorders, rose as one man and came to his rescue. The Confederate fledbut not before he had left a ball in Captain Conwell's shoulder which, of little consequence at the time, later came near causing his death. 

Thus the days passed away, and as the term of enlistment drew toa close, General Foster sent for Captain Conwell and promisedto recommend him for a colonelcy if he would enter at once uponrecruiting service among his men. This he willingly consented to do, and as may be imagined his men nearly all wanted to re-enlist underhim. Such a commission, however, for one so young aroused bitterjealousy among officers of other companies, and Captain Conwellhearing of it, decided not to accept the appointment. He wrote theGovernor that he would be content with the captain's commission againand that he preferred not to raise contention by receiving anythinghigher. The company returned home, but before the new re-organizationwas effected, Captain Conwell was attacked with a serious fever. Bythe time he recovered, the new regiment had been organized and newofficers put over it. Of course, his men were dissatisfied. With theunderstanding that such of his old comrades as wished could join it, he went to work immediately recruiting another company. But nearly allhis old men wanted to come into it, the new men recruited wouldnot give him up, and the anomalous position arose of two companiesclamoring for one captain. While it created much comment, it did notlessen the jealousy which his popularity had aroused, among men andofficers not intimately associated with him, so that his secondenlistment began under a cloud of disappointment for his men, andjealousy among outsiders, that seemed to bring misfortune in itstrain. 

His new men, however, never failed him. His thoughtful care for them, his kindness, his unselfishness won their loyalty and love as it haddone in Company F, and Company D, 2nd Massachusetts Volunteers were toa man as devoted and as attached to him as ever were his old comradesof the first days of the war. 

In this company went as Captain Conwell's personal orderly, a youngboy, John Ring, of Westfield, Massachusetts, a lad of sixteen orseventeen. Entirely too young and too small to join the ranks ofsoldiers, he had pleaded with his father so earnestly to be permittedto go to the war that Mr. Ring had finally consented to put him inCaptain Conwell's charge. The boy was a worshipper at the shrine ofthe young Captain. He had sat thrilled and fascinated under the magicof the burning words which had swept men by the hundreds to enlist. Itwas Captain Conwell's speeches that had stirred the boy and moved himwith such fiery ardor to go to war. No greater joy could be given him, since he could not fight, than to be in his Captain's very tent tolook after his belongings, to minister in small ways to his comfort. Ahero worshipper the lad was, and at an age when ideals take hold of apure, high-minded boy with a force that will carry him to any heightof self-sacrifice, to any depth of suffering. He had been carefullyreared in a Christian home and read the Bible every morning and everyevening in their tent, a sight that so pricked the conscienceof Captain Conwell, as he remembered his mother and her lovinginstructions, that he forbade it. But though John Ring loved CaptainConwell with a love which the former did not then understand, the boyloved duty and right better, and bravely disobeying these orders, heread on. 

The company was stationed at Fort Macon, North Carolina, for awhile, and then sent to Newport Barracks. Here it was that Captain Conwelland his soldiers cut the logs and built the first free schoolhouseerected for colored children. Colonel Conwell himself taught it atfirst and then he engaged a woman to teach. It is still standing. 

Months passed away and the men received no pay. Request after requestCaptain Conwell sent to headquarters at Newberne, but received noreply. The men became discontented and unruly. Some had families athome in need. All of these tales were poured into the young Captain'sears. Ready ever to relieve trouble, impatient always to get to workand remedy a wrong, instead of talking about it, Captain Conwelldecided to ride to Newberne, find out what was the matter and have themen's money forwarded at once. Leaving an efficient officer in commandand securing a pass, which he never stopped to consider was not aproperly made-out permit for a leave of absence for a commandingofficer, he took an orderly and started. It was a twenty-mile rideto Newberne and meant an absence of some time. But he anticipated notrouble, for the rebels had been letting the Northern troops severelyalone for nearly a year. 

He had covered barely two-thirds of the distance, when a Union manpassed, who shouted as he hurried on, "Your men are in a fight. "Conwell and his orderly turned, put their horses to the gallop androde back furiously. It was too late. The country between was swarmingwith Confederates. He ran into the enemies' pickets and barely escapedcapture by swimming a deep creek, shot spattering all around them. Hemade desperate efforts to ride around the lines but failed. Then hetried descending the river by boat, but the enemy had captured theentire line of posts. Frustrated at all points, nothing was to be donebut retrace his steps to Newberne, where the worst of news awaitedhim. The assault upon his fort had been sudden and in overwhelmingforce. His men had been shot down or bayonetted, the remnant driven tothe woods. The whole ground was in the hands of the enemy. 

Nor was this all. Back at that little fort had been enacted one of thesaddest tragedies of the war. When the Union soldiers fled, they hadretreated across the long railroad bridge that spanned the Newportriver, and to prevent the enemy following, had set it on fire. Just asthe flames began to eat into the timbers, John Ring, the boy orderly, thought of his Captain's sword, that wonderful gold-sheathed swordwhich had been presented to Captain Conwell on the memorable day inSpringfield when he had so eloquently called upon it to fight in thecause of Justice. It had been left behind in the Captain's tent, theArmy Regulations requiring that he wear one less conspicuous. Even nowit might be in the hands of some slave-owning Confederate. Maddened atthe thought, John King leaped on to the burning bridge, plungedback through the fire, through the ranks of the yelling, excitedConfederates, reached the tent unobserved and grasped the sword of hisidolized Captain. Again he made a rush for the flame-wrapped bridge. But this time the keen eyes of the enemy discerned him. 

"Look at the Yank with the sword. Wing him! Bring him down. " Andbullets sped after the fearless boy. But he fled on undeterred, andplunged into the mass of flame and smoke. The fire had gained toogreat headway by this time for any living thing to pass through itunhurt. He saw it was useless to attempt to cross as before, andbelting the sword about him, he dropped beneath the stringers andtried to make his way hand over hand. All about him fell the blazingbrands. The biting smoke blinded him. The very flesh was burning fromhis arms. The enemies' bullets sung about him. But still he struggledon. In sheer admiration of his courage, the Confederate general gavethe order to cease firing, and the two armies stood silent and watchedthe plucky fight of this brave boy. Inch by inch, he gained on hispath of fire. But he could see no longer. In torturing blacknesshe groped on, fearful only that he might not succeed in saving theprecious sword, that in his blindness he might grasp a blazing timberand his hand be burnt from him, that death in a tongue of flame beswept down into his face, that the bridge might fall and the sword belost. At last he heard his comrades shouting. They guided him withtheir cheers, "A little farther, " "Keep straight on, " "You're allright now. " And then he dropped blazing into the outstretched armsof his comrades, while a mighty shout went up from both sides of theriver, as enemy and friend paid the tribute of brave men to a bravedeed. 

[Illustration: LIEUTENANT-COLONEL CONWELL]

With swelling hearts and tear-blinded eyes, they tenderly laid theinsensible hero on a gun carriage and took him to the hospital. Twodays of quivering agony followed and then he met and bravely faced hislast enemy. Opening his eyes, he said clearly and distinctly, "Givethe Captain his sword. " Then his breath fluttered and the littlearmor-bearer slept the sleep of peace. 

CHAPTER XI. 

A SOLDIER OF THE CROSS

Under Arrest for Absence Without Leave. Order of Court Reversed byPresident. Certificate from State Legislature of Massachusetts forPatriotic Services. Appointed by President Lincoln Lieutenant-Colonelon General McPherson's Staff. Wounded at Kenesaw Mountain. Conversion. Public Profession of Faith. 

The tragic death of John Ring was the final crushing news that came toCaptain Conwell at Newberne. Combined with the nervous strain he hadbeen under in trying to get back to his men, the condemnation from hissuperior officers for his absence, it threw him into a brain fever. Long days and nights he rolled and tossed, fighting over again theattack on the fort, making heroic efforts to rescue John Ring from hisfiery death, urging his horse through tangled forests and dark riversthat seemed never to have another shore. For weeks the fever rackedand wasted him, and finally when feeble and weak, he was once moreable to walk, he found himself under arrest for absence without leaveduring a time of danger. 

It had been reported to General Palmer that the defeat of the Federaltroops might have been avoided had the officers been on duty. Aninvestigation was ordered and Captain Conwell was asked for his permitto be absent. He had simply his pass through the lines, a vastlydifferent thing he found from an authorized permit of absence. Theinvestigation dragged its slow course along, as all such things, encumbered by red tape, do. Disgusted and humiliated by being kept aprisoner for months when the country needed every arm in its defense, by having such a mountain made of the veriest molehill built of a kindact and boyish inexperience, he refused to put in a defense at theinvestigation and let it go as it would. Setting the Court of Inquirymore against him, a former Commander, General Foster, espoused hiscause too hotly and wrote to General McPherson for an appointment fora "boy who is as brave as an old man. " The Court of Inquiry, made upof local officers, most of them jealous of his popularity, resentedthis outside interference and the verdict was against him. But othershigher in authority took up the matter and Captain Conwell was orderedto Washington. The President reversed the order of the Court. Hewas appointed Lieutenant-Colonel, detailed for service on GeneralMcPherson's staff and ordered West. General Butler, under whosecommand Captain Conwell served, afterward made a generousacknowledgment of the injustice of the findings and expressed in warmwords his admiration of Captain Conwell, and the State Legislatureof Massachusetts gave him a certificate for faithful and patrioticservices in that campaign. 

Nevertheless, it was an experience that sorely embittered his soul. Intentionally he had done nothing wrong, yet he had been humiliatedand made to eat the bitter fruits of the envy and jealousy of others. It saddened but did not defeat him. His heart was too big, his naturetoo generous. He could forgive them freely, could do them a kindnessthe very first opportunity, but that did not take away the pain at hisheart. One may forgive a person who burns him, even if intentionally, but that does not stop the burn from smarting. 

Saddened, and with the futility of ambition keenly brought hometo him, he joined General McPherson, and in the battle of KenesawMountain he received a serious wound. He had stationed a lookoutto watch the Confederate fire while he directed the work of twobatteries. It was the duty of the lookout to keep Colonel Conwell andhis gunners posted as to whether the enemy fired shot or shell, easilyto be told by watching the little trail of smoke that followed thedischarge. If a shot were sent, they paid no attention to it for itdid little damage, but if it were a shell it was deemed necessary toseek protection. 

Colonel Conwell was leaning on the wheel of one of the cannon whenthere was a discharge from the guns of the enemy. The lookout yelled, "Shot. " But it was a fatal shell that came careening and screamingtoward them, and before Conwell or his men could leap into thebomb-proof embankment, it struck the hub of the very wheel againstwhich he leaned, and burst. 

When he came to himself, the stars were shining, the field was silentsave for the feeble moans of the wounded, the voices and footstepsof parties searching for the injured. He was in a quivering agony ofsharp, burning pain, but he could neither move nor speak. At last, heheard the searchers coming. Nearer, nearer drew the voices, then fora moment they paused at his side. He heard a man with a lantern say, "Poor fellow! We can do nothing for him. " Then they passed on, leavinghim for dead, among the dead. 

All that June night he lay there, looking up at the stars that studdedthe infinity of space. About him were dark, silent forms, rigid in thesleep of death. Those were solemn hours, hours when he looked death inthe face, and then backward over the years he had lived. Useless yearsthey seemed to him now, years filled with petty ambitions that had todo solely with self. All the spiritual ideals of life, the things thatgive lasting joy and happiness because they are of the spirit andnot of the flesh, he had scoffingly cast aside and rejected. He hadnarrowed life down to self and the things of the world. He had no suchfaith as made his mother's hard-working life happy and serene becauseit transformed its sordid care into glorious service of her HeavenlyKing. He had no such faith as carried John Ring triumphant andundismayed through the gates of fiery death in performance of a lovingservice. Suddenly a longing swept over him for this priceless faith, for a personal, sure belief in the love of a Savior. One by one theteachings of his mother came back to him, those beautiful immortaltruths she had read him from that Book which is never too old to touchthe hearts of men with healing. Looking up at the worlds swingingthrough space to unknown laws, with the immensities of life, death andinfinity all about him, his disbelief, his atheism dropped away. Intohis heart came the premonitions of the peace of God, which passethunderstanding. Life broadened, it took on new meaning and duty, for alife into which the spirit of God has come can never again narrow downto the boundaries of self. He determined henceforth to live more forothers, less for himself; to make the world better, somebody happierwhenever he could; to make his life, each day of it, worthy of thatgreat sacrifice of John Ring. 

He being an officer, they came back for his body, and found a livingman instead of the dead. He was taken to the field hospital. One armwas broken in two places, his shoulder badly shattered, and becausethere was no hope of his living, they did not at once amputate hisarm, which would have been done had he been less seriously injured. 

Long days he lay in the hospital with life going out all about him, the moan of the suffering in his ears, thinking, thinking, of themystery of life and death, as the shadows flitted and swayed throughthe dimly lighted wards at night, the sunshine poured down during theday. His love of humanity burned purer. His desire to help it grewstronger. Long were the talks he had with the chaplain, a Baptistpreacher, and when he recovered and left the hospital, his mind wasfully made up. Like his father, his actions never lagged behind hisspeech, and he made at once an open profession of the faith on whichhe now leaned with such happy confidence. 

The fearless, unselfish love of humanity, the desire to help theoppressed that burned in the bosom of John Brown had sent theimpetuous boy into the war. 

The fearless, unselfish act of John Ring sent Colonel Conwell out ofthe war a God-fearing man, determined to spend his life for the goodof humanity. 

Providence uses strange instruments. Thousands in this country to-dayhave been inspired, helped, made different men and women throughknowing Russell Conwell. What may not some of them do to benefittheir country and their generation! Yet back of him stand this oldgray-haired man and a young, fearless boy, whose influence turned thecurrent of his life to brighten and bless countless thousands. 

CHAPTER XII. 

WESTWARD

Resignation from Army. Admission to Bar. Marriage. Removal toMinnesota. Founding of Minneapolis Y. M. C. A. And of the Present"Minneapolis Tribune. " Burning of Home. Breaking Out of Wound. Appointed Emigration Agent to Germany by Governor of Minnesota. JoinsSurveying Party to Palestine. Near to Death in Paris Hospital. Journeyto New York for Operation in Bellevue Hospital. Return to Boston. 

When Colonel Conwell was able to leave the hospital, he was stillunable to assume active duty in the field, and he was sent toNashville for further rest and treatment. Here he reported to GeneralThomas and was instructed to proceed to Washington with a despatch forGeneral Logan. Colonel Conwell started, but the rough traveling ofthose days opened his wounds afresh and he completely broke downat Harper's Ferry. Too weak longer to resist, he yielded to theentreaties of his friends, sent in his resignation and returned homefor rest and nursing. Before he fully recovered, peace was declared. 

Free to resume his studies, he entered the law office of Judge W. S. Shurtleff, of Springfield, Massachusetts, his former Colonel, read lawthere for a short time, then entered the Albany University, where hegraduated. 

Shortly after passing his examination at the bar and receiving hisdegree, he was married at Chicopee Falls, March 8, 1865, to MissJennie P. Hayden, one of his pupils in the district school at WestGranville, Massachusetts, and later one of his most proficient musicscholars. Her brothers were in his company, and when Company F was incamp at Springfield after the first enlistment, she was studying atWilbraham and there often saw her soldier lover. Anxious days andyears they were for her that followed, as they were for every otherwoman with father, husband, brother or sweetheart in the terribleconflict that raged so long. But she endured them with that silentbravery that is ever the woman's part, that strong, steady couragethat can sit at home passive, patient, never knowing but thatlife-long sorrow and heartache are already at the threshold. 

Immediately after their marriage, they went West and finally settledin Minneapolis. Colonel Conwell opened a law office, and while waitingfor clients acted as agent for a real estate firm in the sale of landwarrants. He also began to negotiate for the sale of town lots. Thisnot being enough for a man who utilized every minute, he became localcorrespondent for the "St. Paul Press. " Nor did he stop here, thoughmost men would have thought their hands by this time about full. Hetook an active part in local politics and canvassed the settlement andtowns for the Republican and temperance tickets. He also was activelyinterested in the schools, and not only advocated public schools andplenty of them, but was a frequent visitor to the city and districtschools, talking to the children in that interesting, entertainingway that always clothes some helpful lesson in a form long to beremembered. 

True to the faith he had found in the little Southern hospital, hejoined the First Baptist Church of Saint Paul. But mere joining wasnot sufficient. He must work for the cause, and he opened a businessmen's noon prayer-meeting in his law office at Minneapolis, rather anovel undertaking in those days and in the then far West. For threemonths, only three men attended. But nothing daunted, he persevered. That trait in his character always shone out the more brightly, the darker the outlook. Those three men were helped, and that wassufficient reason that the prayer-meeting be continued. Eventually itprospered and resulted finally in a permanent organization from whichgrew the Minneapolis Y. M. C. A. 

Poor though he was, and he started in the West with nothing, he madefriends everywhere. His speeches soon made him widely known. Hissincerity, his unselfish desire to help others, his earnestness to aidin all good works brought him, as always, a host of loyal, devotedfollowers. A skating club of some hundred members made him theirPresident, and his first law case in the West came to him through thisposition. 

A skating carnival was to be given, and the club had engaged anIrishman to clear a certain part of the frozen Mississippi of snow forthe skating. This he failed to do at the time specified and the clubhad it cleaned by some one else. Claiming that he would have doneit, had they waited, the Irishman sued the club. Colonel Conwell, ofcourse, appeared for the defense. The whole hundred members marched tothe court house, the scene being town talk for some days. Needless tosay he won his suit. 

His love for newspaper work led him to start the "MinneapolisChronicle" and the "Star of the North, " which were afterward mergedinto "The Minneapolis Tribune, " for which his clever young wifeconducted a woman's column, in a decidedly brilliant, original manner. Mrs. Conwell wrote from her heart as one woman to other women, andher articles soon attracted notice and comment for their entertainingstyle and their inspiring, helpful ideas. 

At this time they were living in two rooms back of his office, forthey were making financial headway as yet but slowly. But timesbrightened and Colonel Conwell was soon able to purchase a handsomehome and furnish it comfortably, taking particular pride in thegathering of a large law library. 

It seemed now as if life were to move forward prosperously. Butgreater work was needed from Russell Conwell than the comfortablepractice of law. One evening while the family were from home, firebroke out and the house and all they owned was destroyed. Runningto the fire from a G. A. R. Meeting, a mile and a half away, ColonelConwell was attacked with a hemorrhage of the lungs. It came fromhis old army wounds and the doctor ordered him immediately from thatclimate, and told him he must take a complete rest. Here was disasterindeed. Every cent they had saved was gone. And with it the strengthto begin again the battle for a living. It was a hard, bitter blow fora young, ambitious man, right at the start of his career; a stroke offate to make any man bitter and cynical. But his was not a nature topermit misfortune to narrow him or make him repine. He rose above it. It did not lesson his ambitions. It broadened, humanized them. It madehim enter with still truer sympathy into other people's misfortune. And his trust in God was so strong, his faith so unshaken, he knewthat in all these bitter experiences of life's school was a lesson. Helearned it and used it to get a broader outlook. 

His friends rallied to his aid. Prominent as an editor, lawyer, leaderof the Y. M. C. A. , it was not difficult to get him an appointment fromthe Governor, already a warm friend. He secured the position ofemigration agent to Europe, and he turned his face Eastward. Mrs. Conwell was left in Minneapolis, and he sailed abroad in the hope thatthe sea trip and change of climate would heal the weakened tissue ofhis lung and fully restore him to health. But it was a vain hope. Hisstrength would not permit him to fulfill the duty expected of him asemigration agent and he was compelled to resign. For several monthshe wandered about Europe trying one place, then another in the vainsearch for health. He joined a surveying party and went to Palestine, for even in those days that inner voice could not he altogetherstilled that was calling him to follow in the footsteps of the Saviorand preach and teach and heal the sick. The land where the Saviorministered had a strong fascination for him, and he gladly seized theopportunity to become a member of this surveying party and walk overthe ground where the Savior had gone up and down doing good. 

But the trip was of no benefit to his health. Instead of gaining hefailed. He grew weaker and weaker. The hemorrhages became more andmore frequent. Finally he came to Paris and lying, a stranger andpoor, in Necker Hospital was told he could live but a few days. Faceto face again with that grim, bitter enemy of the battlefield, whatthoughts came crowding thick and fast--thoughts of his young wife infar-away America, of father and mother, memories of the beautifulwoods, the singing streams of the mountain home, as the noise andclamor of Paris streets drifted into the long hospital ward. 

Then came a famous Berlin doctor to the dying American. He studied thecase attentively, for it was strange enough to arouse and enlist alla doctor's keen scientific interest. When analyzed, copper had beenfound in the hemorrhage, with no apparent reason for it, and the Parisdoctors were puzzling over the cause. "Were you in the war?" asked thegreat man. "Were you shot?"

"Yes. "

"Shot in the shoulder?"

Then came back to Colonel Conwell, the recollection of the duel withthe Confederate around a tree in the North Carolina woods and the shotthat had lodged in his shoulder near his neck and was never removed. 

"That is the trouble, " said the physician. "The bullet has worked downinto the lung and only the most skillful operation can save you, and only one man can do it"--and that man was a surgeon in BellevueHospital, New York. 

Carefully was the sinking man taken on board a steamer. Only the mostrugged constitution could have stood that trip in the already weakenedcondition of his system. But those early childhood days in theBerkshire Hills had put iron into his blood, the tonic of sunshine andfresh air into his very bone and muscle. Safely he made the journey, though no one knew all he suffered in those terrible days of weaknessand pain on the lone, friendless trip across the Atlantic. Safely hewent through the operation. The bullet was removed, and with healthmending, he made his way to Boston where his loving young wife awaitedhim. 

But out of these experiences, suffering, alone, friendless, poor, ina strange city, grew after all the Samaritan Hospital of Philadelphiathat opens wide its doors, first and always, to the suffering sickpoor. 

CHAPTER XIII

WRITING HIS WAY AROUND THE WORLD

Days of Poverty in Boston. Sent to Southern Battlefields. Around theWorld for New York and Boston Papers. In a Gambling Den In Hong Kong, China. Cholera and Shipwreck. 

Abject poverty awaited him on his return to Boston. The fire in St. Paul had left them but little property, while their enforced hurrieddeparture compelled that little to be sold at a loss. This moneywas now entirely gone, and once more he faced the world in absolutepoverty. He rented a single room in the East district of Boston andfurnished it with the barest necessities. Colonel Conwell secured aposition on "The Evening Traveller" at five dollars a week, and Mrs. Conwell cheerily took in sewing. Thus they made their first bravestand against the gaunt wolf at the door. Here their first child wasborn, a daughter, Nima, now Mrs. E. G. Tuttle, of Philadelphia. Thesewere dark days for the little household. Night after night the fathercame home to see the one he loved best in all the world, sufferingfor the barest necessities of life, yet cheerful, buoyant, nevercomplaining. So sensitive to the sufferings of others that he must doall in his power to relieve even his comrades in the war when, injuredor ill, what mental anguish must he have endured when his dearly lovedwife was in want and he so powerless to relieve it. She read his heartwith the sure sympathy of love, knew his bitter anguish of spirit, andsuffered the more because he suffered. But bravely she cheered him, encouraged him, and spent all her own spare minutes doing what shecould to add to the family income. 

Thus they pluckily-worked, never repining nor complaining at fate, though knowing in its bitterest sense what it is to be desperatelypoor, to suffer for adequate food and clothing. Colonel Conwelllearned in that hard experience what it is to want for a crust ofbread. No man can come to Dr. Conwell to this day with a tale ofpoverty, suffering, sickness, but what the minister's eyes turnbackward to that one little room with its pitiful makeshifts offurniture, its brave, pale wife, the wee girl baby; and his hand goesout to help with an earnest and heartfelt sympathy surprising to therecipient. 

But the tide turned ere long. Colonel Conwell's work on the paper soonbegan to tell. His salary was raised and raised, until comfort oncemore with smiling face took up her abode with them. They moved into apretty home in Somerville. Colonel Conwell resumed his law practiceand began, as in the West, to deal in real estate. He also continuedhis lecturing. 

Busy days these were, but his life had already taught him much of theart of filling each minute to an exact nicety in order to get the mostout of it. His paper sent him as a special correspondent to write upthe battlefields of the South, and his letters were so graphic andentertaining as to become a widely known and much discussed featureof the paper. Soldiers everywhere read them with eager delight andthrough them revisited the scenes of the terrible conflict in whicheach had played some part. While on this assignment, he invaded agambling den in New Orleans, and interfering to save a colored manfrom the drunken frenzy of a bully, came near being killed himself. Coming to the aid of a porter on a Mississippi steamboat, he againnarrowly escaped being shot, striking a revolver from the hand of aruffian just as his finger dropped on the trigger. He mixed with allclasses and conditions of men and saw life in its roughest, most primal aspect But all these experiences helped him to thatappreciation of human nature that has been of such, value and help tohim since. 

These letters aroused such widespread and favorable comment that the"New York Tribune" and "Boston Traveller" arranged to send him on atour of the world. When the offer came to him, his mind leaped theyears to that poorly furnished room in the little farmhouse, where hehad leaned on his mother's knee and listened with rapt attention whileshe read him the letters of foreign correspondents in that very "NewYork Tribune. " The letter he wrote his mother telling her of theappointment was full of loving gratitude for the careful way shehad trained his tastes in those days when he was too young andinexperienced to choose for himself. 

It was a wrench for the young wife to let him go so far away, but shebravely, cheerfully made the sacrifice. She was proud of his work andhis ability, and she loved him too truly to stand in the way of hisprogress. 

This journey took him to Scotland, England, Sweden, Denmark, France, Italy, Germany, Russia, Palestine, Arabia, Egypt and Northern Africa. He interviewed Emperor William I, Bismarck, Victor Emanuel, the thenPrince of Wales, now Edward VII of England. He frequently met HenryM. Stanley, then correspondent for the London papers, who wrote fromParis of Colonel Conwell, "Send that double-sighted Yankee and he willsee at a glance all there is and all there ever was. "

He also made the acquaintance of Garibaldi, whom he visited in hisisland home and with whom he kept up a correspondence after hereturned. Garibaldi it was who called Colonel Conwell's attention tothe heroic deeds of that admirer of America, the great and patrioticVenetian, Daniel Manin. In the busy years that followed on this tripColonel Conwell spent a long time gathering materials for a biographyof Daniel Manin, and just before it was ready for the press themanuscript was destroyed by fire in the destruction of his homeat Newton Centre, Massachusetts, in 1880. One of his most popularlectures, "The Heroism of a Private Life, " took its inception from thelife of this Venetian statesman. 

He also gave a series of lectures at Cambridge, England, on Italianhistory that attracted much favorable comment. 

Mr. Samuel T. Harris, of New York, correspondent of the "New YorkTimes" in 1870, in a private letter, says, "Conwell is the funniestchap I ever fell in with. He sees a thousand things I never thought oflooking after. When his letters come back in print I find lots in themthat seems new to me, although I saw it all at the time. But you don'tsee the fun in his letters to the papers. The way he adapts himself toall circumstances comes from long travel; but it is droll. He makes asalaam to the defunct kings, a neat bow to the Sudras, and a friendlywink at the Howadji, in a way that puts him cheek-by-jowl with themin a jiffy. He beats me all out in his positive sympathy with thesemiserable heathen. He has read so much that he knows about everything. The way the officials, English, too, treat him would make you think hewas the son of a lord. He has a dignified condescension in his mannerthat I can't imitate. "

Part of the time Bayard Taylor was his traveling companion, and theregrew up between these two kindred spirits an intimate friendship thatlasted until Taylor's death. 

All through the trip he carried books with him, and every minute notoccupied in gathering material for his letters was passed in readingthe history of the scenes and the people he was among, in masteringtheir language. Such close application added an interesting backgroundof historical information to his letters, a breadth and culture, thatmade them decidedly more valuable and entertaining than if confinedstrictly to what he saw and heard. It was on this journey that heheard the legend from which grew his famous lecture, "Acres ofDiamonds, " which has been given already three thousand four hundredand twenty times. It gave him an almost inexhaustible fund of materialon which he has drawn for his lectures and books since. 

During his absence his second child, a son, Leon, was born. Hereturned home for the briefest time, and then completed the tour byway of the West and the Pacific. He lectured through the WesternStates and Territories, for already his fame as a lecturer wasspreading. He visited the Sandwich Islands, Japan, China, Sumatra, Siam, Burmah, the Himalaya Mountains, India, returning home by way ofEurope. His Hong Kong letter to "The Tribune, " exposing the iniquitiesof the labor-contract system in Chinese emigration, created quite astir in political and diplomatic circles. It was while on this triphe gathered the material for his first book, "Why and How the ChineseEmigrate. " It was reviewed as the best book in the market of its kind. The "New York Herald" in writing of it said: "There has been littlegiven to the public which throws more timely and intelligent lightupon the question of coolie emigration than the book written by Col. Russell H. Conwell, of Boston. "

These travels were replete with thrilling adventures and strangecoincidents. When he left Somerville after his brief visit, for histrip through the Western States, China and Japan, a broken-heartedmother in Charlestown, Mass. , asked him to find her wandering boy, whom she believed to be "somewhere in China. " A big request, butColonel Conwell, busy as he was, did not forget it. Searching for himin such places as he believed the boy would most likely frequent, Colonel Conwell accidentally entered, one night in Hong Kong, a den ofgamblers. Writing of the event, he says:

"At one table sat an American, about twenty-five years old, playingwith an old man. They had been betting and drinking. While thegray-haired man was shuffling the cards for a 'new deal' the youngman, in a swaggering, careless way, sang, to a very pathetic tune, averse of Phoebe Carey's beautiful hymn, 'One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er: I'm nearer home to-day Than e'er I've been before. '

Hearing the singing several gamblers looked up in surprise. The oldman who was dealing the cards grew melancholy, stopped for a moment, gazed steadfastly at his partner in the game, and dashed the pack uponthe floor under the table. Then said he, 'Where did you learn thattune?' The young man pretended that he did not know he had beensinging. 'Well, no matter, ' said the old man, I've played my lastgame, and that's the end of it. The cards may lie there till doomsday, and I will never pick them up, ' The old man having won money fromthe other--about one hundred dollars--took it out of his pocket, andhanding it to him said: 'Here, Harry, is your money; take it anddo good with it; I shall with mine. ' As the traveler followed themdownstairs, he saw them conversing by the doorway, and overheardenough to know that the older man was saying something about the songwhich the young man had sung. It had, perhaps, been learned at amother's knee, or in a Sunday-school, and may have been (indeed itwas), the means of saving these gamblers, and of aiding others throughtheir influence toward that nobler life which alone is worth theliving. "

The old man had come from Westfield, Mass. He died in 1888, at Salem, Oregon, having spent the last seven years of his life as a ChristianMissionary among the sailors of the Pacific coast. He passed awayrejoicing in the faith that took him

 "Nearer the Father's House, Where many mansions be, Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the jasper sea. "

The boy, Harry, utterly renounced gambling and kindred vices. 

While coming from Bombay to Aden, cholera broke out on the ship andit was strictly quarantined. It was a ship of grief and terror. Passengers daily lost loved ones. New victims were stricken everyhour. The slow days dragged away with death unceasingly busy amongthem. Burials were constant, and no man knew who would be the nextvictim. But Colonel Conwell escaped contagion. 

On the trip home, across the Atlantic, the steamer in a fearful galewas so dismantled as to be helpless. The fires of the engine were out, and the boat for twenty-six days drifted at the mercy of the waves. No one, not even the Captain, thought they could escape destruction. Water-logged and unmanageable, during a second storm it was thought tobe actually sinking. The Captain himself gave up hope, the women grewhysterical. But in the midst of it all, Colonel Conwell walked thedeck, and to calm the passengers sang "Nearer my God to Thee, "with such feeling, such calm assurance in a higher power, that thepassengers and Captain once again took courage. But strangest of all, on this voyage, while sick, he was cared for by the very coloredporter whose life he had saved on the Mississippi steamboat. 

CHAPTER XIV

BUSY DAYS IN BOSTON

Editor of "Boston Traveller. " Free Legal Advice for the Poor. Temperance Work. Campaign Manager for General Nathaniel P. Banks. Urged for Consulship at Naples. His Work for the Widows and Orphans ofSoldiers. 

Returning to Somerville, Mass. , the long journey ended, he found theeditorial chair of the "Boston Traveller" awaiting him. He plungedinto work with his characteristic energy. The law, journalism, writing, lecturing, all claimed his attention. It is almost incrediblehow much he crowded into a day. Five o'clock in the morning found himat work, and midnight struck before he laid aside pen or book. Yetwith all this rush of business, he did not forget those resolves hehad made to lend a helping hand wherever he could to those needing it. And his own bitter experiences in the hard school of poverty taughthim how sorely at times help is needed. He made his work for othersas much a part of his daily life as his work for himself. It wasan integral part of it. Watching him work, one could hardly havedistinguished when he was occupied with his own affairs, when withthose of the poor. He did not separate the two, label one "charity"and attend to it in spare moments. One was as important to him as theother. He kept his law office open at night for those who could notcome during the day and gave counsel and legal advice free to thepoor. Often of an evening he had as many as a half hundred of theseclients, too poor to pay for legal aid, yet sadly needing help toright their wrongs. So desirous was he of reaching and assisting thosesuffering from injustice, yet without money to pay for the help theyneeded, that he inserted the following notice in the Boston papers:

"Any deserving poor person wishing legal advice or assistance will begiven the same free of charge any evening except Sunday, at No. 10Rialto Building, Devonshire Street. None of these cases will be takeninto the courts for pay. "

These cases he prepared as attentively and took into court with aseager determination to win, as those for which he received large fees. Of course such a proceeding laid him open to much envious criticism. Lawyers who had no such humanitarian view of life, no such earnest, sincere desire to lighten the load of poverty resting so heavily onthe shoulders of many, said it was unprofessional, sensational, a "bidfor popularity. " Those whom he helped knew these insinuations to beuntrue. His sympathy was too sincere, the assistance too gladlygiven. But misunderstood or not, he persevered. The wrongs of many anignorant working man suffering through the greed of those over him, were righted. Those who robbed the poor under various guises were madeto feel the hand of the law. And for none of these cases did he evertake a cent of pay. 

Another class of clients who brought him much work but no profit werethe widows and orphans of soldiers seeking aid to get pensions. Tosuch he never turned a deaf ear, no matter the multitude of dutiesthat pressed. He charged no fee, even when to win the case, he wascompelled to go to Washington. Nor would he give it up, no matter whatwork it entailed until the final verdict was given. His partners sayhe never lost a pension case, nor ever made a cent by one. 

An unwritten law in the office was that neither he nor his partnersshould ever accept a case if their client were in the wrong, orguilty. But this very fact made wrongdoers the more anxious to securehim, knowing it would create the impression at once that they wereinnocent. 

A story which went the rounds of legal circles in Boston and finallywas published in the "Boston Sunday Times, " shows how he was cleverlyfooled by a pick-pocket The man charged with the crime came to ColonelConwell to get him to take the case. So well did he play the part ofinjured innocence that Colonel Conwell was completely deceived andthrew himself heart and soul into the work of clearing him. When thecase came up for trial, the lawyer and client sat near together in thecourt room, and Colonel Conwell made such an earnest and forceful pleain behalf of the innocent young man and the harm already done him byhaving such a charge laid at his door that it was at once agreed thecase should be dismissed, by the District Attorney's consent. Solawyer and client walked out of court together, happy and triumphant, to Colonel Conwell's office, where the pick-pocket paid ColonelConwell his fee out of the lawyer's own pocketbook which he had deftlyabstracted during the course of the trial. 

The incident caused much amusement at the time, and it was a longwhile before Colonel Conwell heard the last of it. 

Into work for temperance he went heart and soul, not only in speechbut in deed. Though he never drank intoxicating liquor himself, hecould never see a man under its baneful influence but that heart andhand went out to help him. Many a reeling drunkard he took to hisSomerville home, nursed all night, and in the morning endeavored withall his eloquence to awaken in him a desire to live a different life. Deserted wives and children of drunkards came to him for aid, and manyof the free law cases were for those wronged through the curse ofdrink. 

Friend always of the workingman, he was persistently urged by theirparty to accept a nomination for Congress. But he as persistentlyrefused. But he worked hard in politics for others. He managed onecampaign in which General Nathaniel P. Banks was running on anindependent ticket, and elected him by a large majority. His namewas urged by Senators Charles Sumner and Henry Wilson for the UnitedStates Consulship at Naples, the lectures he had given at Cambridge, England, on Italian history having attracted so much favorable commentby the deep research they showed, and the keen appreciation of Italiancharacter. He was considered an expert in contested election cases andhe frequently appeared before the Legislature on behalf of cities andtowns on matters over which it had jurisdiction. 

Mr. Higgins, who knew him personally, writing of these busy days in"Scaling the Eagle's Nest, " says:

"He prepared and presented many bills to Congressional Committees atWashington, and appeared as counsel in several Louisiana and Floridaelection eases. His arguments before the Supreme Courts in severalimportant patent cases were reported to the country by the AssociatedPress. He had at one time considerable influence with the Presidentand Senators in political appointments, and some of the best men stillin government office in this State (Massachusetts) and in otherNew England States, say they owe their appointment to his activefriendship in visiting Washington in their behalf. But it does notappear that through all these years of work and political influence heever asked for an appointment for himself. "

Catholics, Jews, Protestants and non-sectarian charities sought hisaid in legal matters, and so broad was his love for humanity that allfound in him a ready helper. At one time he was guardian of more thansixty orphan children, three in particular who were very destitute, were through his intercession with a relative, left a fortune of$50, 000. Yet despite all these activities, he found time to lecture, to write boots, to master five languages, using his spare minutes onthe train to and from his place of business for their study. In 1872he made another trip abroad. Speaking of him at this time, a writer inthe London Times says:

"Colonel Conwell is one of the most noteworthy men of New England. Hehas already been in all parts of the world. He is a writer of singularbrilliancy and power, and as a popular lecturer his success has beenastonishing. He has made a place beside such orators as Beecher, Phillips and Chapin. "

Thus the busy years slipped by, years that brought him close to thegreat throbbing heart of humanity, the sorrows and sufferings of thepoor, the aspirations and ambitions of the rich, years in which helooked with deep insight into human nature, and, illumined by his lovefor humanify, saw that an abiding faith in God, the joy of knowingChrist's love was the balm needed to heal aching hearts, drive evilout of men's lives, wretchedness and misery from many a home. More andmore was he convinced that to make the world better, humanity happier, the regenerating, uplifting power of the spirit of God ought to bebrought into the daily lives of the people, in simple sincerity, without formalism, yet as vital, as cherished, as freely recognized apart of their lives as the ties of family affection which bound themtogether. 

CHAPTER XV

TROUBLED DAYS

Death of Wife. Loss of Money. Preaching on Wharves. Growth of SundaySchool Class at Tremont Temple from Four to Six Hundred Members in aBrief Time. Second Marriage. Death of Father and Mother. Preaching atLexington. Building Lexington Baptist Church. 

Into this whirl of successful, happy work, the comforts and luxuriesof prosperity, came the grim hand of death. His loving wife who hadworked so cheerfully by his side, who had braved disaster, bitterpoverty, hardship, with a smile, died of heart trouble after a fewdays' illness, January 11, 1872. It was like a thunderbolt from acloudless sky. In the loneliness and despair that followed, worldlyambitions turned to dust and ashes. He could not lecture. He could notspeak. The desolation at his heart was too great. His only consolationwas the faith that was in him, a "very present help, " as he found, "intime of trouble. " This bitter trial brought home to him all the moreintensely the need of such comfort for those who were comfortless. Hisheart went out in burning sympathy for those sitting in darkness likehimself, but who had no faith on which to lean, nothing to bringhealing and hope to a broken heart. Her death was a loss to thecommunity as well as to her family. Her writings in the "SomervilleJournal" had made a decided impression, while her sweet womanlyqualities had endeared her to a wide circle of friends. Noting herdeath, a writer in one of the Boston papers said:

"Mrs. Conwell was a true and loving wife and mother. Kind andsympathetic in her intercourse with all, and possessed of those rarewomanly graces and qualities which endeared her to those with whom shewas acquainted. Her death leaves a void which cannot be filled evenoutside her own household. Her writings were those of a true woman, always healthful in their tone, strong and vigorous in ideas andconcise in language. "

Other troubles came thick and fast. He lost at one time fifty thousanddollars in the panic of '74, and at another ten thousand dollars byendorsing for a friend. His old acquaintance, poverty, again took upits abode with him. In addition, he was heavily in debt. Those wereblack days, days that taught him how unstable were the things of thisworld--money, position, the ambitions that once had seemed so worthy. The only thing that brought a sense of satisfaction, of having donesomething worth while, was the endeavor to make others happier, to putjoy into lives as desolate as his own. Such work brought peace. 

To forget his own troubles in lightening those of others, he wentactively into religious work. He took a class in the Sunday School ofTremont Temple, that very Sunday School into which Deacon Chipman hadtaken him a runaway boy some twenty years before. The class grew fromfour to six hundred in a few months. He preached to sailors on thewharves, to idlers on the streets, in mission chapels at night. Thepresent West Somerville, Massachusetts, church grew from just suchwork. He could not but see the fruits of his labors. On all sides itgrew to a quick harvest. 

The thought that he was thus influencing others for good, that hewas leading men and women into paths of sure happiness brought hima spiritual calm and peace such as the gratification of worldlyambitions had never given him. More and more he became convinced itwas the only work worth doing. The strong love for his fellowmen, thedesire to help those in need and to make them happier which had alwaysbeen such a pronounced characteristic, had set him more than onceto thinking of the ministry as a life work. Indeed, ever since thatchildish sermon, with the big gray rock as a pulpit, it had been inhis mind, sometimes dormant, breaking out again into strong feelingwhen for a moment he stood on some hilltop of life and took in itsfullest, grandest meaning, or in the dark valley of suffering andsorrow held close communion with God and saw the beauty of serving Himby serving his fellowmen. That the inclination was with him is shownby the fact that when he was admitted to the bar in Albany in 1865, hehad a Greek Testament in his pocket. 

As soon as his means permitted after the war, he gathered a valuabletheological library, sending to Germany for a number of the books. In1875, when he was admitted to practice in the Supreme Court of theUnited States, he delivered an address that same evening in Washingtonon the "Curriculum of the School of the Prophets in Ancient Israel. "From all parts of the Old World he gathered photographs of ancientmanuscripts and sacred places, and kept up a correspondence with manyprofessors and explorers interested in these topics. He lectured inschools and colleges on archaeological subjects, with illustrationsprepared by himself. 

It is not to be wondered that with his keen mind and his gift oforatory the law tempted him at first to turn aside from the promptingsof the inner spirit. Nor is it to be wondered that even wheninclination led strongly he still hesitated. It was no light thing fora man past thirty to throw aside a profession in which he had alreadymade an enviable reputation and take up a new lifework. With two smallchildren depending upon him, it was a question for still more seriousstudy. 

But gradually circumstances shaped his course. In 1874, he marriedMiss Sarah F. Sanborn whom he had met in his mission work. She was ofa wealthy family of Newton Centre, the seat of the Newton TheologicalSeminary. One of the intimate friends of the family was the Rev. AlvahHovey, D. D. , President of the Seminary. Thus while inclination pulledone way and common sense pulled the other, adding as a final argumentthat he had no opportunity to study for the ministry, he was thrownamong the very people who made it difficult not to study theology. Troubled in mind he sought Dr. Hovey one day and asked how to decideif "called to the ministry. " "If people are called to hear you, " wasthe quick-witted, practical reply of the good doctor. But still hehesitated. His law practice, writing, lecturing, claimed part of him;his Sunday School work and lay preaching, a second and evergrowingstronger part. His law practice became more and more distasteful, hisservice to the soul needs of others, more and more satisfying. 

[Illustration: MRS. SARAH F. CONWELL]

In 1874 his father died, and in 1877 he lost his mother, these sadbereavements still further inclining his heart to the work of theministry. They were buried at South Worthington, in a sunny hilltopcemetery, open to the sky, the voice of a little brook coming softlyup from among the trees below. This visit to his old home under suchsad circumstances, the memory of his father's and mother's prayersthat the world might not be the worse, but that it might be the betterfor his having lived in it, deepened the growing conviction that heshould give his life to the work of Christ. 

At last came the deciding event. In 1879, a young woman visitedColonel Conwell, the lawyer, and asked his advice respecting thedisposition of a Baptist Meeting House in Lexington. He went toLexington and called a meeting of the members of the old church, for the purpose of securing legal action on the part of that bodypreparatory to selling the property. He got some three or four oldBaptists together and, as they talked the business over, "they becamereluctant to vote, either to sell, destroy, keep, or give away theold meeting-house, " says Burdette, in "Temple and Templars. " "Whilediscussing the situation with these sorrowful old saints--and one goodold deacon wept to think that 'Zion had gone into captivity, '--thepreacher came to the front and displaced the lawyer. It was the crisisin his life; the parting of the ways. In a flash of light the decisionwas made. 'It flashed upon me, sitting there as a lawyer, that therewas a mission for me there, ' Dr. Conwell has often said, in speakingof his decision to go into the ministry. He advised promptly andstrongly against selling the property. 'Keep it; hold service in it;repair the altar of the Lord that is broken down; go to work; getGod to work for you, and work with Him; 'God will turn again yourcaptivity, your months shall be filled with laughter and your tongueswith singing. " They listened to this enthusiastic lawyer whom they hadretained as a legal adviser, in dumb amazement 'Is Saul also among theprophets?' But having given his advice, he was prompt to act upon ithimself. 'Where will we get a preacher?' 'Here is one who will serveyou until you can get one whom you will like better, and who cando you more good. Announce preaching in the old meeting house nextSunday!'

"It was nothing new for Colonel Conwell to preach, for he was engagedin mission work somewhere every Sunday; so when the day came, he wasthere. Less than a score of hearers sat in the moldy old pews. Thewindows were broken and but illy repaired by the curtaining cobwebs. The hand of time and decay had torn off the ceiling plaster inirregular and angular patches. The old stove had rusted out at theback, and the crumbling stove-pipe was a menace to those who satwithin range of its fall. The pulpit was what Mr. Conwell called a'crow's perch, ' and one can imagine the platform creaking under themilitary tread of the tall lawyer who stepped into its lofty height topreach. But, old though it was, they say, a cold, gloomy, damp, dingyold box, it was a meeting house and the Colonel preached in it. That alawyer should practice, was a commonplace, everyday truth; but that alawyer should preach--that was indeed a novelty. The congregation ofsixteen or seventeen at the first service grew the following Sabbath, to forty worshippers. Another week, and when the new preacher climbedinto that high pulpit, he looked down upon a crowded house; the littleold chapel was dangerously full. Indeed, before the hour for service, under the thronging feet of the gathering congregation, one side ofthe front steps--astonished, no doubt, and overwhelmed by the unwonteddemand upon its services--did fall down. They were encouraged tobuild a fire in the ancient stove that morning, but it was pastregeneration; it smoked so viciously that all the invalids who hadcome to the meeting were smoked out. The old stove had lived itsday and was needed no longer. There was a fire burning in the oldmeeting-house that the hand of man had not lighted and could notkindle; that all the storms of the winter could not quench. The pulpitand the preacher had a misty look in the eyes of the old deacons atthat service. And the preacher? He looked into the earnest facesbefore him, into the tearful, hopeful eyes, and said in his own strongheart, 'These people are hungry for the word of God, for the teachingsof Christ. They need a church here; we will build a new one. '

"It was one thing to say it, another to achieve it. The churchwas poor. Not a dollar was in the treasury, not a rich man in themembership, the congregation, what there was of it, without influencein the community. But lack of money never yet daunted Dr. Conwell. Thesituation had a familiar look to him. He had succeeded many a timewithout money when money was the supreme need, and he attacked thisproblem with the same grim perseverance that had carried him sosuccessfully through many a similar ordeal. "

"After service he spoke about building a new church to two or three ofthe members. 'A new church?' They couldn't raise enough money to putwindows in the old one, they told him. "

"'We don't want new windows, we want a new church, ' was the reply. "

"They shook their heads and went home, thinking what a pity it wasthat such an able lawyer should be so visionary in practical churchaffairs. Part of that night Colonel Conwell spent in prayer; earlynext morning he appeared with a pick-axe and a woodman's axe andmarched upon that devoted old meeting-house, as he had marched againstHood's intrenchments before Atlanta. Strange, unwonted sounds salutedthe ears of the early risers and awakened the sluggards in Lexingtonthat Monday morning. Bang, Bang, Bang! Crash--Bang! Travelers over theRevolutionary battlefield at Lexington listened and wondered. By andby a man turned out of his way to ascertain the cause of theracket. There was a black coat and vest hanging on the fence, anda professional-looking man in his shirt sleeves was smashing themeeting-house. The rickety old steps were gone by the time this man, with open eyes and wide-open month, came to stare in speechlessamazement. Gideon couldn't have demolished 'the altar of Baal and thegrove that was by it' with more enthusiastic energy, than did thispreacher tumble into ruin his own meeting-house, wherein he hadpreached not twelve hours before. Other men came, looked, laughed, and passed by. But the builder had no time to waste on idle gossips. Clouds of dust hovered about him, planks, boards, and timbers cametumbling down in heaps of ruin. "

"Presently there came along an eminently respectable citizen, whoseldom went to church. He stared a moment, and said, 'What in the nameof goodness are you doing here?'"

"'We are going to have a new meeting-house here, ' was the reply, asthe pick-axe tore away the side of a window-frame for emphasis. "

"The neighbor laughed, 'I guess you won't build it with that axe, ' hesaid. "

"'I confess I don't know just exactly how it is going to be done, 'said the preacher, as he hewed away at a piece of studding, 'but insome way it is going to be done. '"

"The doubter burst into an explosion of derisive laughter and walkedaway. A few paces, and he came back; walking up to Colonel Conwell heseized the axe and said, 'See here, Preacher, this is not the kind ofwork for a parson or a lawyer. If you are determined to tear this oldbuilding down, hire some one to do it. It doesn't look right for youto be lifting and pulling here in this manner. '"

"'We have no money to hire any one, ' was the reply, 'and the front ofthis structure must give way to-day, if I have to tear it down allalone. '"

"'I'll tell you what I'll do, ' persisted the wavering doubter; 'if youwill let this alone, I'll give you one hundred dollars to hire someone. '"

"Colonel Conwell tranquilly poked the axe through. ' the few remainingpanes yet unbroken in the nearest window and replied, 'We would likethe money, and I will take it to hire some one to help, but I shallkeep right on with the work myself. '"

"'All right, ' said the doubter; 'go ahead, if you have set your heartupon it. You may come up to the house for the hundred dollars any timeto-day. '"

"And with many a backward look the generous doubter passed on, halfbeginning to doubt his doubts. Evidently, the Baptists of Lexingtonwere beginning to do something. It had been many a year since they hadmade such a noise as that in the village. And it was a noise destinedto be heard a long, long way; much farther than the doubter and agreat many able scientists have supposed that sound would 'carry. '"

"After the doubter came a good-natured man who disliked churches ingeneral, and therefore enjoyed the fun of seeing a preacher tug andpuff in the heavy work of demolition, for the many-tongued rumor bythis time had noised it all around Lexington that the new preacher wastearing down the Baptist meeting-house. He looked on until he could nolonger keep his enjoyment to himself. "

"'Going to pull the whole thing down, are you?' he asked. "

"'Yes, sir, ' replied the working preacher, ripping off a strip ofsiding, 'and begin all new. '"

"'Who is going to pay the bills?' he asked, chuckling. "

"The preacher tucked up his sleeves and stepped back to get a goodswing at an obstinate brace; 'I don't know, ' he said, 'but the Lordhas money somewhere to buy and pay for all we need. '"

"The man laughed, in intense enjoyment of the absurdity of the wholecrazy business. "

"'I'll bet five dollars to one, ' he said, with easy confidence of aman who knows his bet will not be taken up, 'that you won't get themoney in this town. '"

"Mr. Conwell brought the axe down with a crashing sweep, and thesplinters flew out into the air like a cloud of witnesses to theefficacy of the blow. "

"'You would lose your money, then, ' quietly said the preacher, 'forMr. ---- just now came along and has given me a hundred dollars withoutsolicitation. '"

"The man's eyes opened a trifle wider, and his next remark faded intoa long-drawn whistle of astonishment. Presently--'Did you get thecash?' he asked feebly. "

"'No, but he told me to call for it to-day. '"

"The man considered. He wasn't enjoying the situation with quite somuch humor as he had been, but he was growing more interested. "

"'Well! Is that so! I don't believe he meant it, ' he added hopefully. Then, a man after all not disposed to go back on his own assertion, hesaid, 'Now I'll tell you what I'll do. If you really get that hundreddollars out of that man, I'll give you another hundred and pay itto-night, '"

"And he was as good as his word. "

"All that day the preacher worked alone. Now came in the training ofthose early days on the farm, when he learned to swing an axe; when hebuilded up rugged strength in a stalwart frame, when his muscles werehardened and knotted with toil. "

"'Passers-by called one after another, to ask what was going on. Toeach one Colonel Conwell mentioned his hope and mentioned his gifts. Nearly every one had added something without being asked, and at sixo'clock, when Colonel Conwell laid down the pick and axe at the end ofhis day's work, he was promised more than half the money necessary totear down the old meeting-house and build a new one. "

"But Colonel Conwell did not leave the work. With shovel, or hammer, or saw, or paint-brush, he worked day by day all that summer alongsidethe workmen. He was architect, mason, carpenter, painter, andupholsterer, and he directed every detail, from the cellar to thegilded vane, and worked early and late. The money came without askingas fast as needed. The young people who began to flock about thefaith-worker undertook to purchase a large bell, and quietly hadColonel Conwell's name cast on the exterior, but when it came to thedifficult task of hanging it in the tower, they were obliged to callColonel Conwell to come and superintend the management of ropes andpulleys. Then the deep, rich tones of the bell rang out over thesurprised old town the triumph of faith. ' An unordained preacher, hehad entered upon his first pastorate, and signalized his entrance uponhis ministry by building a new meeting-house, awakening a sleepingchurch, inspiring his congregation with his own enthusiasm and zeal. "

At last he had found his work. With peace and deep abiding joy heentered it. Doubts no longer troubled him. His heart was at rest. "Blessed is he who has found his work, " writes Carlyle; "let him askno other blessedness. "

CHAPTER XVI

HIS ENTRY INTO THE MINISTRY

Ordination. First Charge at Lexington. Call to Grace Baptist Church, Philadelphia. 

For this work he had been trained in the world's bitter school ofexperience. He had learned lessons there of infinitely more value inhelping humanity than any the theological seminary could teach him. Heknew what it was to be poor, to be utterly cast down and discouraged, to be sick and suffering, to sit in the blackness of despair for theloss of loved ones. From almost every human experience he could reachthe hand of sympathy and say, "I know. I have suffered. " Such helptouches the heart of humanity as none other can. And when at the sametime, it points the way to the Great Comforter and says again, "Iknow, I found peace, " it is more powerful than the most eloquentsermon. Nothing goes so convincingly to a man's heart as loving, sympathetic guidance from one who has been through the same bittertrial. 

He was ordained in the year 1879, the council of churches, called forhis ordination, met in Lexington, President Alvah Hovey of NewtonSeminary presiding. Among the members of the council was his life-longfriend, George W. Chipman, of Boston, the same good deacon who hadtaken him a runaway boy into the Sunday School of Tremont Temple. The only objection to the ordination was made by one of the pastorspresent, who said, "Good lawyers are too scarce to be spoiled bymaking ministers of them. "

The ordination over, the large law offices in Boston were closed. Hegave his undivided time and attention to his work in Lexington. Thelawyer, speaker and writer ceased to exist, but the pastor was foundwherever the poor needed help, the sick and suffering needed cheer, the mourning needed comfort, wherever he could by word or act preachthe gospel of the Christ he served. 

His whole thought was concentrated in the purpose to do good. No onewho knew him intimately could doubt his entire renunciation of worldlyambitions, the sacrifice was so great, yet so unhesitatingly made. Buried from the world in one way, he yet lived in it in a better way. Large numbers of his former legal, political and social associatescalled his action fanaticism. Wendell Phillips, meeting ColonelConwell and several friends on the way to church, one Sunday morning, remarked that "Olympus has gone to Delphi, and Jove has descended tobe an interpreter of oracles. "

His salary at the start was six hundred dollars a year, little morethan ten dollars a week. But it was enough to live on in a little NewEngland village and what more did he need? The contrast between itand the ten thousand dollars a year he had made from his law practicealone, never troubled him. 

[Illustration: THE BAPTIST TEMPLE]

The church was crowded from the first and the membership grew rapidly. His influence quickly spread to other than church circles. The townitself soon felt the effect of his progressive, energetic spirit. Itawoke to new life. Other suburban villages were striding forward intocities and leaving this old Battlefield of the Revolution sleepingunder its majestic elms. Mr. Conwell sounded the trumpet. Progress, enterprise, life followed his eloquent encouragement. Strangerswere welcomed to the town. Its unusual beauty became a topic ofconversation. The railroad managers heard of its attractiveness andopened its gates with better accommodations for travelers. 

The governor of the state (Hon. John D. Long) visited the place on Mr. Conwell's invitation, and large business enterprises were started andstrongly supported by the townspeople. From the date of Mr. Conwell'ssettlement as pastor, the town took on a new lease of life. He showedthem what could be done and encouraged them to do it. 

One of the town officers writing of that time, says: "Lexington cannever forget the benefit Mr. Conwell conferred during his stay in thecommunity. "

Then all unknown to Mr. Conwell, a man came up to Lexington one Sundayin 1882, from Philadelphia, and heard him preach in the little stonechurch under the stately New England elms. It was Deacon AlexanderReed of the Grace Baptist Church of Philadelphia, and as a result ofhis visit, Mr. Conwell received a call from this church to be itspastor. It was like the call from Macedonia to "come over and helpus. " For the church was heavily in debt, and one of the argumentsDeacon Reed used in urging Mr. Conwell to accept was that he "couldsave the church. " He could have used no better argument. It was thecall to touch Mr. Conwell's heart. A small church, and strugglingagainst poverty; a people eager to work, but needing a leader. Nomessage could have more surely touched that heart eager to helpothers, to bring brightness, joy and higher aspirations into troubledlives. It was a wrench to leave Lexington, the church and the peoplewho had grown so dear to him. But the harvest called. There was needof reapers and he must go. 

CHAPTER XVII

GOING TO PHILADELPHIA

The Early History of Grace Baptist Church. The Beginning of the SundayBreakfast Association. Impressions of a Sunday Service. 

The church to which Mr. Conwell came and from which has grown thelargest Baptist church in the country, and which was the firstinstitutional church in America, had its beginning in a tent. In 1870a little mission was started in a hall at Twelfth and MontgomeryAvenue by members of the Young Men's Association of the Tenth BaptistChurch. The committee in charge was Alexander Reed, Henry C. Singley, Fred B. Gruel and John Stoddart. A Sunday School was started andreligious services held Thursday evenings and Sunday afternoons. Thelittle mission flourished, and within a year it was deemed advisableto put some one in charge who could give it his full time. The Rev. L. B. Hartman was called and the work went forward with increasingprosperity. He visited the families in the neighborhood, interestedthe children in the Sunday School, held two preaching services everySunday and usually two prayer meetings during the week. In 1872, evangelistic services were held which resulted in a number ofconversions. The need now became so imperative for a recognizedchurch, that on Feb. 12, 1872, one was formally organized withforty-seven members, L. B. Hartman pastor, and John A. Stoddart, HenryO. Singley and G. G. Mayhew, deacons. The membership still increasedrapidly, the little hall was crowded to discomfort, and it was decidedto take a definite step toward securing a church building of theirown. A lot was purchased at Berks and Mervine for $7, 500, a tent witha seating capacity of 500 erected, and Grace Baptist Church had itsfirst home. The opening services of the tent were memorable for manythings. 

After addresses had been made by Drs. Malcolm, Peddie, Rowland andWayland, an effort was made to raise the twelve hundred dollars due onthe tent. A wealthy layman, Mr. William Bucknell, offered to pay thetwelve hundred dollars provided the members of Grace Baptist Churchshould henceforth abstain from the use of tobacco. The alert chairmansaid, "All who are in sympathy with Brother Bucknell's proposition, please rise. " The entire audience arose. Mr. Bucknell made out hischeck next morning for twelve hundred dollars. 

In 1874, the tent was moved to a neighboring lot, where it was used asa mission. Homeless wanderers were taken in, fed and pointed theway to a different and better life. From this work grew the SundayBreakfast Association of Philadelphia. 

A contract was made for a new church building, and in 1875 GraceChurch moved into the basement of the new building at Berks andMervine Streets. But dark days came. The financial burden becameexcessive. Judgment bonds were entered against the building, thesheriff was compelled to perform his unpleasant duty, and the propertywas advertised for sale. A council of Baptist churches was called todetermine what should be done. 

The sheriff was persuaded to wait. The members renewed their exertionsand once more the church got on its financial feet sufficiently tomeet current financial expenses. The plucky fight knit them togetherin strong bonds of good fellowship. It strengthened their faith, gavethem courage to go forward, and taught them the joy of working insuch a cause. And while they were struggling with poverty and lookingdisaster often in the face, up in Massachusetts, the man who was tolead this chosen people into a new land of usefulness, was himselffighting that battle as to whether he should hearken to the voice ofthe Spirit that was calling him to a new work. But finally he left allto follow Him, and when this church, going down under its flood ofdebt, sent out a cry for help, he heard it and came. To his friends inMassachusetts it seemed as if he were again throwing himself away. Toleave his church in Lexington on the threshold of prosperity, for acharge little more than a mission, with only twenty-seven present tovote on calling him, seemed the height of folly. But he considerednone of these things. He thought only of their need. 

On Thanksgiving Day, 1882, he came. The outer walls of the smallchurch were up, the roof on, but the upper part was unfinished, the worshippers meeting in the basement And over it hung a debt of$15, 000. But the plucky band of workers, full of the spirit thatmakes all things possible, had found a leader. Both had fought bitterfights, had endured hardships and privations, had often nothing butfaith to lean on, and pastor and people went forward to the great workawaiting them. 

Out of his love of God, his great love of humanity, his desire touplift, to make men better and happier, out from his own variedexperiences that had touched the deeps of sorrow and seen life overall the globe, came words that gripped men's hearts, came sermons thatpacked the church to the doors. 

It was not many months before his preaching began to bear fruits. Notonly was the neighborhood stirred, but people from all parts of thecity thronged to hear him. 

In less than a year, though the seating capacity of the church wasincreased to twelve hundred, crowds stood all through the service. Itbecame necessary to admit the members by tickets at the rear, it beingalmost impossible for them to get through the throngs of strangers atthe front. Upon request, these cards of admission were sent to thosewishing them, a proceeding that led to much misunderstanding amongthose who did not know their purpose nor the reason for their use. Butit was the only way that strangers in the city or those wishing toattend a special service could be sure of ever getting into thechurch. 

A Methodist minister of Albany gives a description in "Scaling theEagle's Nest, " of his attendance at a service that pictures mostgraphically the situation:

"I arrived at the church a full hour before the evening service. Therewas a big crowd at the front door. There was another crowd at the sideentrance. I did not know how to get a ticket, for I did not know, tillI heard it in the jam, that I must have one. Two young people, wholike many got tired of waiting, gave me their tickets, and I pushedahead. I was determined to see how the thing was done. I wasdreadfully squeezed, but I got in at the back entrance and stood inthe rear of the pretty church. All the camp chairs were already taken. Also all extra seats. The church was rather fancifully frescoed. Butit is an architectural gem. It is half amphitheatrical in style. It islonger than it is wide, and the choir gallery and organ are over thepreacher's head. It looks underneath like an old-fashioned soundingboard. But it is neat and pretty. The carpet and cushions are brightred. The windows are full of mottoes and designs. But in the eveningunder the brilliant lights the figures could not be made out. 

"There was an unusual spirit of homeness about the place, such as Inever felt in a church before. I was not alone in feeling it. Themoment I stood in the audience room, an agreeable sense of rest andpleasure came over me. Everyone else appeared to feel the same. Therewas none of the stiff restraint most churches have. All moved aboutand greeted each other with an ease that was pleasant indeed. I sawsome people abusing the liberty of the place by whispering, evenduring the sermon. They may have been strangers. They evidentlybelonged to the lower classes. But it was a curiosity to noticethe liberty every one took at pauses in the service, and the closeattention there was when the reading or speaking began. 

"All the people sang. I think the great preacher has a strong likingfor the old hymns. Of course I noticed his selection of Wesley'sfavorite. A little boy in front of me stood upon the pew when thecongregation rose. He piped out in song with all his power. It waslike a spring canary. It was difficult to tell whether the strongvoice of the preacher, or the chorus choir, led most in the singing. Awell-dressed lady near me said 'Good evening, ' most cheerfully, as apolite usher showed me into the pew. They say that all the members dothat. It made me feel welcome. She also gave me a hymn-book. I sawothers being greeted the same. How it did help me praise the Lord! Athome with the people of God! That is just how I felt. I was greatlydisappointed in the preacher. Agreeably so, after all. I expected tosee an old man. He did not look over thirty-five. He was awkwardlytall. I had expected some eccentric and sensational affair. I do notknow just what, but I had been told of many strange things. I thinknow it was envious misrepresentation. The whole service was as simpleas simple can be. And it was surely as sincere as it was simple. Thereading of the hymns was so natural and distinct that they had anow meaning to me. The prayer was very short, and offered in homelylanguage. In it he paused a moment for silent prayer, and every oneseemed to hold his breath in the deepest, real reverence. It was sodifferent from my expectations. Then the collection. It was not anasking for money at all. The preacher put his notice of it the otherway about He said, 'The people who wish to worship God by giving theiroffering into the trust of the church could place it in the basketswhich would be passed to any who wanted to give. ' The basket that wentdown to the altar by me was full of money and envelopes. Yet no onewas asked to give anything. It was all voluntary, and really anoffering to the Lord. I had never seen such a way of doing things inchurch collections. I do not know as the minister or church require itso. The church, was packed in every corner, and people stood in theaisles. The pulpit platform was crowded so that the preacher hadnothing more than standing room. Some people sat on the floor, and acrowd of interested boys leaned against the pulpit platform. When thepreacher arose to speak, I expected something strange. It did not seempossible that such a crowd could gather year after year to listen tomere plain preaching. For these are degenerate days. The ministerbegan so familiarly and easily in introducing his text that he washalf through his sermon before I began to realize that he was actuallyin his sermon. It was the plainest thing possible. I had often heardof his eloquence and poetic imagination. But there was little ofeither, if we think of the old ideas. There was close continuousattention. He was surely in earnest, but not a sign of oratoricaldisplay. There were exciting gestures at times, and lofty periods. But it was all so natural. At one point the whole audience burst intolaughter at a comic turn in an illustration, but the preacher went onunconscious of it. It detracted nothing from the solemn theme. It waswhat the 'Chautauqua Herald' last year called a 'Conwellian evening. 'It was unlike anything I ever saw or heard. Yet it was good to bethere. The sermon was crowded with illustrations, and was evidentlyunstudied. They say he never takes time from his many cares to write asermon. That one was surely spontaneous. But it inspired the audienceto better lives and a higher faith. When he suddenly stopped andquickly seized a hymn-book, the audience drew a long sigh. At oncepeople moved about again and looked at each other and smiled. Thewhole congregation were at one with the preacher. There was a low humof whispering voices. But all was attention again when the hymn wasread. Then the glorious song. One of the finest organists in thecountry, a blind gentleman by the name of Wood, was the power behindthe throne. The organ did praise God. Every one was carried on in aflood of praise. It was rich. The benediction was a continuation ofthe sermon and a closing prayer, all in a single sentence. I havenever heard one so unique. It fastened the evening's lesson. It wasnot formal. The benediction was a blessing indeed. It broke every ruleof church form. It was a charming close, however. No one else butConwell could do it. Probably no one will try. Instantly at the closeof the service, all the people turned to each other and shook hands. They entered into familiar conversation. Many spoke to me and invitedme to come again. There was no restraint. All was homelike and happy. It was blessed to be there. "

CHAPTER XVIII

FIRST DAYS AT GRACE BAPTIST CHURCH

Early plans for Church Efficiency. Practical Methods for Church Work. The Growing Membership. Need of a New Building. 

The preaching filled the church. Men and women felt that to miss asermon was to miss inspiration and strength for the coming week'swork, a broader outlook on life, a deeper hold on spiritual truths. But it was more than the sermons that carried the church work forwardby leaps and bounds, added hundreds to its membership, made it a powerfor good in the neighborhood that gradually began to be felt all overthe city. 

The spirit of the sermons took practical form. Mr. Conwell followed notraditions or conventions in his church work. He studied the needs ofthe neighborhood and the hour. Then he went to work with practical, common sense to meet them. First he determined the church should bea home, a church home, but nevertheless a home in its true sense, overflowing with love, with kindness, with hospitality for thestranger within its gates. Committees were formed to make strangerswelcome, to greet them cordially, find them a seat if possible, seethat they had hymn books, and invite them heartily to come again. Andevery member felt he belonged to this committee even if not actuallyappointed on it, and made the stranger who might sit near him feelthat he was a welcome guest. When the church became more crowded, members gave up their seats to strangers and sat on the pulpit, and itwas no unusual sight in the church at Berks and Mervine streets to seethe pulpit, as well as every other inch of space in the auditorium, crowded. Finally, when even this did not give room enough toaccommodate all who thronged its doors, members took turns in stayingaway from certain services. No one who has not enjoyed the spiritualuplift, the good fellowship of a Grace Church service can appreciatewhat a genuine personal sacrifice that was. 

After the service, Mr. Conwell stationed himself at the door and shookhands with all as they left, adding some little remark to show hispersonal interest in their welfare if they were members, or a cordialinvitation to come again, if a stranger. The remembrance of thathearty handclasp, that frank, friendly interest, lingered and stampedwith a personal flavor upon the hearer's heart, the truths ofChristianity that had been preached in such simple, clear, yetforcible fashion from the pulpit. 

Another of Mr. Conwell's methods for carrying out practicalChristianity was to set every body at work. Every single member of thechurch was given something to do. As soon as a person was receivedinto the membership, he was invited to join some one or other of thechurch organizations. He was placed on some committee. In suchan atmosphere of activity there was no one who did not catch theenthusiasm and feel that being a Christian meant much more thanattending church on Sundays, putting contributions in the box, andlistening to the minister preach. It was a veritable hive of appliedChristianity, and many a man who hitherto thought he had done his fullduty by attending church regularly and contributing to its support hadthese ideas, so comfortable and self-satisfied, completely shattered. 

The membership was composed almost entirely of working people, men andwomen who toiled hard for their daily bread. There were no wealthypeople to help the work by contributions of thousands of dollars. Thebeginnings of all the undertakings were small and unpretentious. Butnothing was undertaken until the need of it was felt; then the peopleas a whole put their shoulders to the wheel and it went with a will. And because it practically filled a need, it was a success. 

The pastor was the most untiring worker of all. With ceaseless energyand unfailing tact, he was the head and heart of every undertaking. Day and night he ministered to the needs of his membership and thecommunity. To the bedside of the sick he carried cheer that was betterthan medicine. In the homes where death had entered, he brought thecomfort of the Holy Spirit. Where disgrace had fallen like a pall, hewent with words of hope and practical advice. Parents sought him tohelp lead erring children back from a life of wretchedness and evil. Wherever sorrow and trouble was in the heart or home he went, hisheart full of sympathy, his hands eager to help. 

Much of his time, too, in those early days of his ministry was devotedto pastoral calls, not the formal ministerial call where the childrentiptoe in, awed and silent, because the "minister is there. " Childrenhailed his coming with delight, the family greeted him as an old, oldfriend before whom all ceremony and convention were swept away. He wasgenuinely interested in their family affairs. He entered into theirplans and ambitions, and he never forgot any of their personal historythey might tell him, so that each felt, and truly, that in his pastorhe had a warm and interested friend. 

His own simple, informal manner made every one feel instantly at homewith him. He soon became a familiar figure upon the streets in theneighborhood of his church, for morning, noon and night he was abouthis work, cherry, earnest, always the light of his high callingshining from his face. The people for squares about knew that here wasa man, skilled and practical in the affairs of the world, to whom theycould go for advice, for help, for consolation, sure that they wouldhave his ready sympathy and the best his big heart and generous handscould give. 

Such faithful work of the pastor, such earnest, active work of thepeople could not but tell. The family feeling which is the ideal ofchurch fellowship was so strong and warm that it attracted and drewpeople as with magnetic power. The church became more and morecrowded. In less than a year it was impossible to seat those whothronged to the Sunday services, though the auditorium then had aseating capacity of twelve hundred. 

"I am glad, " the pastor once remarked to a friend, "when I get upSunday morning and can look out of the window and see it snowing, sleeting, and raining, and hear the wind shriek and howl. 'There, ' Isay, 'I won't have to preach this morning, looking all the while atpeople patiently standing through the service, wherever there is afoot of standing room. '"

[Illustration: THE SAMARITAN HOSPITAL OF THE FUTURE]

The membership rose from two hundred to more than five hundred withintwo years. A question began to shape itself in the minds of pastorand people. "What shall we do?" As a partial solution of it, theproposition was made to divide into three churches. But, as in the olddays of enlistment when two companies clamored for him for captain, all three sections wanted him as pastor, and so the idea wasabandoned. 

Still the membership grew, and the need for larger quarters faced themimperatively and not to be evaded. The house next door was purchasedwhich gave increased space for the work of the Sunday School and thevarious associations. But it was a mere drop in the bucket. Every roomin it was filled to overflowing with eager workers before the ink wasfairly dry on the deed of transfer. 

Then into this busy crowd wondering what should be done came a littlechild, and with one simple act cleared the mist from their eyes andpointed the way for them to go. 

CHAPTER XIX

HATTIE WIATT'S LEGACY

How a Little Child Started the Building Fund for the Great BaptistTemple. 

One Sunday afternoon a little child, Hattie Wiatt, six years old, came to the church building at Berks and Mervine to attend the SundaySchool. She was a very little girl and it was a very large SundaySchool, but big as it was there was not room to squeeze her in. Otherlittle girls had been turned away that day, and still others, Sundaysbefore. But it was a bitter disappointment to this small child; thelittle lips trembled, the big tears rolled down her cheeks and thesobs that came were from the heart. The pastor himself told the littleone why she could not come in and tried to comfort her. His heart wasbig enough for her and her trouble if the church was not. He watchedthe childish figure going so sadly up the street with a heart that washeavy that he must turn away a little child from the house of God, from the house raised in the name of One who said, "Suffer littlechildren to come unto me. "

She did not forget her disappointment as many a child would. It hadbeen too grievous. It hurt too deeply to think that she could not goto that Sunday School, and that other little girls who wanted to gomust stay away. With quivering lip she told her mother there wasn'troom for her. With a sad little heart she spent the afternoon thinkingabout it, and when bedtime came and she said her prayers, she prayedwith a child's beautiful faith that they would find room for her sothat she might go and learn more about Jesus. Perhaps she had heardsome word dropped about faith and works. Perhaps the childish mindthought it out for herself. But she arose the next morning with astrong purpose in her childish soul, a purpose so big in faith, sofirm in determination, it could put many a strong man's efforts tothe blush. "I will save my money, " she said to herself, "and build abigger Sunday School. Then we can all go. "

From her childish treasures she hunted out a little red pocketbookand in this she put her pennies, one at a time. What temptations thatchildish soul struggled with no one may know! How she shut her eyesand steeled her heart to playthings her friends bought, to theallurements of the candy shop window! But nothing turned her fromher purpose. Penny by penny the little hoard grew. Day after day thedimpled fingers counted it and the bright eyes grew brighter as thesum mounted. That mite cast in by the widow was no purer, greateroffering than these pennies so lovingly and heroically saved by thislittle child. 

But there were only a few weeks of this planning, hoping, saving. Thelittle Temple builder fell ill. It was a brief illness and then thegrim Reaper knocked at the door of the Wiatt home and the loving, self-sacrificing spirit was born to the Father's House where there aremany mansions, where there was no lack of room, for the little heartso eager to learn more of Jesus. 

With her dying breath she told her mother of her treasure, told her itwas for Grace Baptist Church to build. 

In the little red pocketbook was just fifty-seven cents. That was herlegacy. With swelling heart, the pastor reverently took it; with mistyeyes and broken voice he told his people of the little one's gift. 

"And when they heard how God had blessed them with so great aninheritance, there was silence in the room; the silence of tears andearnest consecration. The corner stone of the Temple was laid. "

CHAPTER XX

BUILDING THE TEMPLE

How the Money was Raised. Walking Clubs. Jug Breaking. The Purchase ofthe Lot. Laying the Corner Stone. 

Thus was their path pointed out to them and they walked steadilyforward in it from that day. 

Plans were made for raising money. The work went forward with a vim, for ever before each worker was the thought of that tiny girl, theprecious pennies saved one by one by childish self-denial. The child'sfaith was equaled by theirs. It was a case of "Come unto me on thewater. " They were poor. Nobody could give much. But nobody hesitated. 

It was not only a question of giving, even small sums. What was givenmust be saved in some way. Few could give outright and not feel it. Incomes for the most part just covered living expenses, and expensesmust be cut down, if incomes were to be stretched to build a church. So these practical people put their wits to work to see how moneycould be saved. Walking clubs were organized, not for vigorous crosscountry tramps in a search for pleasure and health, but with anearnest determination to save carfare for the building fund. Tired menwith muscles aching from a hard day's work, women weary with a longday behind the counter or typewriter, cheerfully trudged home andsaved the nickels. Women economized in dress, men who smoked gave itup. Vacations in the summer were dropped. Even the boys and girlssaved their pennies as little Hattie Wiatt had done, and the moneypoured into the treasury in astonishing amounts, considering how smallwas each individual gift. All these sacrifices helped to endear theplace to those who wove their hopes and prayers about it. 

A fair was given in a large hall in the centre of the city whichbrought to the notice of many strangers the vigorous work the churchwas doing and netted nearly five thousand dollars toward the buildingfund. It was a fair that went with a vim, planned on business lines, conducted in a practical, sensible fashion. 

Another effort that brought splendid results was the giving out oflittle earthen jugs in the early summer to be brought to the harvesthome in September with their garnerings. It was a joyous evening whenthe jugs were brought in. A supper was given, and while the churchmembers enjoyed themselves at the tables, the committee sat on theplatform, broke the jugs, counted the money and announced the amount. The sum total brought joyous smiles to the treasurer's face. 

Innumerable entertainments were held in the church and at homes ofthe church members. Suppers were given in Fairmount Park during thesummer. Every worthy plan for raising money that clever brains coulddevise and willing hands accomplish was used to swell the buildingfund. 

Thus the work went ahead, and in September, 1886, the lot on whichThe Temple now stands at Broad and Berks was purchased at a cost oftwenty-five thousand dollars. Thus encouraged with tangible results, the work for the building fund was pushed, if possible, with evengreater vigor. Ground was broken for The Temple March 27, 1889. Thecorner stone was laid July 13, 1890, and on the first of March, 1891, the house was occupied for worship. 

The only large amount received toward the building fund was a gift often thousand dollars on condition that the church be not dedicateduntil it was free of debt. In a legal sense, calling a building by thename of the congregation worshipping in it is a dedication, and so thebuilding, instead of being called The Grace Baptist Church, was calledthe Baptist Temple, a name which will probably cling to it while onestone stands upon another. 

Raising money and erecting a building did not stop the spiritual workof the church. Rather it increased it. People heard of the churchthrough the fairs and various other efforts to raise money, came tothe service, perhaps out of curiosity at first, became interested, their hearts were touched and they joined. Never did its spirituallight burn more brightly than in these days of hard work andself-denial. The membership steadily rose, and when Grace Church movedinto its new temple of worship, more than twelve hundred membersanswered the muster roll. 

CHAPTER XXI

OCCUPYING THE TEMPLE

The First Sunday. The Building Itself--Its Seating Capacity, Furnishing and Lighting. The Lower Temple and its Various Rooms andHalls. Services Heard by Telephone at the Samaritan Hospital. 

That was a great day--the first Sunday in the new Temple. Six yearsof labor and love had gone to its building and now they possessed theland. 

"During the opening exercises over nine thousand people were presentat each service, " said the "Philadelphia Press" writing of the event. The throng overflowed into the Lower Temple; into the old churchbuilding. The whole neighborhood was full of the joyful members ofGrace Baptist Church. The very air seemed to thrill with the spiritof thanksgiving abroad that day. All that Sabbath from sunrise untilclose to midnight members thronged the building with prayers ofthankfulness and praise welling up from glad hearts. 

Writing from London several years later, Mr. Conwell voiced in wordswhat had been in his mind when the church was planned:

"I heard a sermon which helped me greatly. It was delivered by an oldpreacher, and the subject was, 'This God is our God, ' He described theattributes of God in glory, knowledge, wisdom and love, and comparedHim to the gods the heathen do worship. He then pressed upon us themessage that this glorious God is the Christian's God, and with Him wecannot want. It did me so much good, and made me long so much for moreof God in all my feelings, actions, and influence. The seats werehard, and the tack of the pew hard and high, the church dusty andneglected; yet, in spite of all the discomforts, I was blessed. Iwas sorry for the preacher who had to preach against all thosediscomforts, and did not wonder at the thin congregation. Oh! it isall wrong to make it so unnecessarily hard to listen to the gospel. They ought for Jesus' sake tear out the old benches and putin comfortable chairs. There was an air about the service ofperfunctoriness and lack of object, which made the service indefiniteand aimless. This is a common fault. We lack an object and do not aimat anything special in our services. That, too, is all wrong. Eachhymn, each chapter read, each anthem, each prayer, and each sermonshould have a special and appropriate purpose. May the Lord help me, after my return, to profit by this day's lesson. "

No hard benches, no air of cold dreariness marks The Temple. Theexterior is beautiful and graceful in design, the interior cheery andhomelike in furnishing. 

The building is of hewn stone, with a frontage on Broad Street of onehundred and seven feet, a depth on Berks Street of one hundred andfifty feet, a height of ninety feet. On the front is a beautiful halfrose window of rich stained glass, and on the Berks Street side anumber of smaller memorial windows, each depicting some beautifulBiblical scene or thought. Above the rose window on the front is asmall iron balcony on which on special occasions, and at midnight onChristmas, New Year's Eve and Easter, the church orchestra and choirplay sacred melodies and sing hymns, filling the midnight hour withmelody and delighting thousands who gather to hear it. 

The auditorium of The Temple has the largest seating capacity amongProtestant church edifices in the United States. Its original seatingcapacity according to the architect's plans, was forty-two hundredopera chairs. But to secure greater comfort and safety only thirty-onehundred and thirty-five chairs were used. 

Under the auditorium and below the level of the street is the part ofthe building called the Lower Temple. Here are Sunday School rooms, with a seating capacity of two thousand. The Sunday School room andlecture room of the Lower Temple is forty-eight by one hundred and sixfeet in dimensions. It also has many beautiful stained-glass windows. On the platform is a cabinet organ and a grand piano. In the rear ofthe lecture room is a dining-room, forty-five by forty-six feet, with a capacity for seating five hundred people. Folding tables andhundreds of chairs are stowed away in the store rooms when not in usein the great dining-room. Opening out of this room are the rooms ofthe Board of Trustees, the parlors and reading-rooms of the YoungMen's Association and the Young Women's Association, and the kitchen, carving-room and cloak-room. Through the kitchen is a passageway tothe engine and boiler rooms. In pantries and cupboards is an outfitof china and table cutlery sufficient to set a table for five hundredpersons. The kitchen is fully equipped, with two large ranges, hot-water cylinders, sinks and drainage tanks. In the annex beyond thekitchen, a separate building contains the boilers and engine room andthe electric-light plants. 

The steam-heating of the building is supplied by four one hundredhorse-power boilers. In the engine room are two one hundred andthirty-five horse-power engines, directly connected with dynamoshaving a capacity of twenty-five hundred lights, which are controlledby a switchboard in this room. The electrician is on duty every day, giving his entire time to the management of this plant. The buildingis also supplied with gas. Directly behind the pulpit is a smallcloset containing a friction wheel, by means of which, should theelectric light fail for any reason, every gas jet in The Temple can belighted from dome to basement. 

For cleaning the church, a vacuum plant has been installed, whichsucks out every particle of dust and dirt. It does the work quicklyand thoroughly, in fact, so thoroughly it is impossible even with thehardest beating to raise any dust on the covered chairs after theyhave been cleaned by this process. Such crowds throng The Temple thatsome quick, thorough method of cleaning it became imperative. 

Back of the auditorium on the street floor are the business offices ofthe church, Mr. Conwell's study, the office of his secretary and ofthe associate pastor. All are practically and cheerfully furnished, fitted with desks, filing cabinets, telephones, speaking tubes, everything to carry forward the business of the church in atime-saving, businesslike way. 

The acoustics of the great auditorium are perfect. There is nobuilding on this continent with an equal capacity which enables thepreacher to speak and the hearers to listen with such perfect comfort. The weakest voice is carried to the farthest auditor. Lecturers whohave tested the acoustic properties of halls in every state in theUnion speak with praise and pleasure of The Temple, which makes thedelivery of an oration to three thousand people as easy, so far asvocal effort is concerned, as a parlor conversation. 

Telephonic communication has recently been installed between theauditorium and the Samaritan Hospital. Patients in their beds canhear the sermons preached from The Temple pulpit and the music of theSunday services. 

Compared with other assembly rooms in this country, the auditorium ofThe Temple is a model. It seats thirty-one hundred and thirty-fivepersons. The American Academy of Music, Philadelphia, seatstwenty-nine hundred; the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, twenty-fourhundred and thirty-three; Academy in New York, twenty-four hundred andthirty-three; the Grand Opera House, Cincinnati, twenty-two hundredand fifty; and the Music Hall, Boston, twenty-five hundred andeighty-five. 

But greater than the building is the spirit that pervades it. Themoment one enters the vast auditorium with its crimson chairs, itscheery carpet, its softly tinted walls, one feels at home. Lightfilters in through rich windows, in memory of some member gone before, some class or organization. Back of the pulpit stands the organ, itsrich pipes rising almost to the roof. Everywhere is rich, subduedcoloring, not ostentatious, but cheery, homelike. 

Large as is the seating capacity of The Temple, when it was opened itcould not accommodate the crowds that thronged to it. Almost from thefirst, overflow meetings were held in the Lower Temple, that noneneed be turned away from the House of God. From five hundred to twothousand people crowded these Sunday evenings in addition to the largeaudience in the main auditorium above. 

The Temple workers had come to busy days and large opportunities. Butthey took them humbly with a full sense of their responsibility, withprayer in their hearts that they might meet them worthily. Theirleader knew the perils of success and with wise counsel guided themagainst its insidious dangers. 

"Ah, that is a dangerous hour in the history of men and institutions, "he said, in a sermon on the "Danger of Success, " "when they become toopopular; when a good cause becomes too much admired or adored, so thatthe man, or the institution, or the building, or the organization, receives an idolatrous worship from the community. That is alwaysa dangerous time. Small men always go down, wrecked by such dizzyelevation. Whenever a small man is praised, he immediately loseshis balance of mind and ascribes to himself the things which othersfoolishly express in flattery. He esteems himself more than he is;thinking himself to be something, he is consequently nothing. Howdangerous is that point when a man, or a woman, or an enterprise hasbecome accepted and popular! Then, of all times, should the man or thesociety be humble. Then, of all times, should they beware. Then, ofall times, the hosts of Satan are marshaled that by every possibleinsidious wile and open warfare they may overcome. The weakest hour inthe history of great enterprises is apt to be when they seem to be, and their projectors think they are, strongest. Take heed lest ye fallin the hour of your strength. The most powerful mill stream drives thewheel most vigorously at the moment before the flood sweeps the millto wildest destruction. "

Just as plainly and unequivocally did he hold up before them thepurpose of their high calling:

"The mission of the church is to save the souls of men. That is itstrue mission. It is the only mission of the church. That should be itsonly thought. The moment any church admits a singer that does not singto save souls; the moment a church calls a pastor who does not preachto save souls; the moment a church elects a deacon who does not workto save souls; the moment a church gives a supper or an entertainmentof any kind not for the purpose of saving souls--it ceases in so muchto be a church and to fulfil the magnificent mission God gave it. Every concert, every choir service, every preaching service, everyLord's supper, every agency that is used in the church must have thegreat mission plainly before its eye. We are here to save the souls ofdying sinners; we are here for no other purpose; and the mission ofthe church being so clear, that is the only test of a real church. "

The thousands of men and women Grace Church has saved and placed inpaths of righteousness and happiness, show that it has nobly stoodthe test, that it has proved itself a church in the true sense of theword. 

CHAPTER XXII

HOW THE CHURCH WORKS

The Ladies' Aid Society. The Young Women's Association. The YoungMen's Association. The Ushers' Association. The Christian EndeavorSocieties. The Many Other Organizations. What They Do, and How They DoIt. 

Now that the church was built, now that such power was in its hands, how should it work?

"The church of Christ should be so conducted always as to save thelargest number of souls, and in the saving of souls the Institutionalchurch may be of great assistance, " said Russell Conwell in an addresson "The Institutional Church. " "It is of little matter what yourtheories are or what mine are; God, in His providence, is moving Hischurch onward and moving it upward at the same time, adjusting itto new situations, fitting it to new conditions and to advancingcivilization, requiring us to use the new instrumentalities he hasplaced in our hands for the purpose of saving the greatest number ofhuman souls. "

The conditions confronting him, the leader of this church studied. Heturned his eyes backward over the years. He thought of his own boyhoodwhen church was so distasteful. He thought of those ten busy years inBoston when he had worked among all classes of humanity, with churcheson all sides, yet few reaching down into the lives of the people inany vital way. He knew of the silent, agonizing cry for help, forcomfort, for light, that went up without ceasing day and night fromhumanity in sorrow, in suffering, in affliction, went up as it were toskies of brass, yet he knew a loving Savior stood ready to pour forthhis healing love, a Divine Spirit waited only the means, to lay ahealing touch on sore hearts. What was needed was a simple, practical, real way to make it understandable to men, to bring them into theright environment, to make their hearts and minds receptive, to pointthe way to peace, joy and eternal life. He brought to bear on thisproblem all the practical, trained skill of the lawyer, the keeninsight and common sense, the knowledge of the world, of the travelerand writer. Every experience of his own life he probed for help andlight on this great work Nothing was done haphazard. He studied thewants of men. He clearly saw the need. He calmly surveyed the field, then he went to work with practical common sense to fill it, fillinghis people with the enthusiasm and the faith that led him, doing witha will all there was to do, and then leaving the rest with God. Neverdid he think of himself, of how he might lighten his tasks, givehimself a little more leisure or rest. The work needing to be done andhow to do it was his study day and night. 

[Illustration: This Picture Shows the Four Speaking Tubes WhichConnect by Telephone with the Samaritan Hospital]

A reporter of the "Philadelphia Press" once asked Dr. George A. Peltz, the associate pastor of Grace Church, "if you were called upon toexpress in three words the secret of the mysterious power that hasraised Grace Church from almost nothing to a membership of more thanthree thousand, that has built this Temple, founded a college, openeda hospital, and set every man, woman and child in the congregation toworking, what would be your answer?"

"Sanctified common sense, " was the Doctor's unhesitating reply. 

Rev. F. B. Meyer, in speaking on "Twentieth Century Evangelism, " atBradford, England, in 1902, made a plea for "the institutional church, the wide outlook, more elastic methods, greater eagerness to reach andwin outsiders, more varied service on the part of Christian people, that the minister of any place of worship should become the recognizedfriend of the entire district in which his chapel is placed. "

The "elastic method" is characteristic of the work of The Temple. When Dr. Conwell first came to Grace Church, he organized foursocieties--the Ladies' Aid Society, the Business Men's Union, theYoung Women's Association, the Young Men's Association. Into one oranother of these, every member of the church fitted, and as the newmembers came into the fellowship, they found work for their hands inone or the other. 

The Ladies' Aid Society is the pastor's right hand. It stands readyto undertake any project, social, religious, financial, to givereceptions in honor of noted visitors, to hold a series of specialmeetings, to plan suppers, festivals, and other affairs--whenever itis necessary to raise money. Its creed, if one might so call it, is:

 "Use every opportunity to bring in new members. 

 "Remember the name of every new church member. 

 "Visit useless members and encourage them for their own sake to become useful. 

 "Visit persons when desired by the Pastors. 

 "Speak cheerfully to each person present on every opportunity. 

 "Regard every patron of your suppers or entertainments, and every visitor to your religious meetings, as a guest calling on you in your own house. 

 "Accept contributions and subscriptions for the various Christian enterprises. 

 "Bring in every suggestion you hear which is valuable, new or effective in Christian work elsewhere. 

 "Never allow a meeting to pass without your doing _some one practical_ thing for the advancement of Christ's kingdom. 

 "Make yourself and the Society of some certain use to some person, or some cause, each week. "

The Society helps in the church prayer meetings, in refurnishingand improving the church property, in celebrating anniversaries, inmissionary enterprises, securing the insertion of tablets in theTemple walls, in clothing the poor, in supporting the local missionsconnected with the church, in calling socially on church members ormembers of the congregation, in evangelistic meetings, in householdprayer meetings, in supporting reading rooms, in comforting those inspecial affliction, in visiting the sick, in aiding the needy, inpaying the church debt, in maintaining Mother's meetings, in lookingafter the domestic wants of the Temple, in sewing for the Hospitals, the Missions, the Baptist Home, the Orphanage, church fairs, Missionary workers, the poor, in managing church suppers andreceptions connected with Ordinations, Conventions, and otherreligious gatherings. 

It is one of the most important organizations of the church and hasits own rooms handsomely furnished and well supplied with readingmatter. 

The Business Men's Union drew into a close band the business men ofthe church and used their knowledge of business affairs to plan andcarry out various projects for raising money for the building fund. They also took a deep personal interest in each other's welfare as isshown by the following incident, taken from the "Philadelphia Press":

"At one time a member became involved in financial difficulties in avery peculiar way. Previous to connecting himself with the church, he had been engaged in a business which he felt he could notconscientiously continue after his conversion. He sold his interestand entered upon mercantile pursuits with which he was unfamiliar. Asa result, he became involved and his establishment was in danger offalling into the sheriff's hands. 

"His situation became known to some members of the Business Men'sUnion, and a committee was appointed to look into his affairs. Hisbooks were found to be straight and his stock valuable. The membersimmediately subscribed the thousands of dollars necessary to relievehim of all embarrassment, and the man was saved. "

After the building was completed and the imperative need for such anorganization was past, the members joined other organizations needingtheir help, and it disbanded. It is typical of the elastic methods ofGrace Church that no society outlives its usefulness. When the needis past for it as a body, the members look elsewhere for work, andwherever each is needed, there he goes heart and soul to further someother endeavor. 

The Young Women's Association is composed of young women of thechurch. It bubbles over with youthful enthusiasm and energy and is oneof the strongest agencies for carrying forward the church work. Itscreed is:

 "Secure new members. 

 "Attend the meetings, propose new work, urge on neglected duties. 

 "Help the prayer meetings. 

 "Volunteer for social meetings. 

 "Aid in the entertainments. 

 "Originate plans for Christian benevolent work. 

 "Welcome young women to the Church. 

 "Visit the sick members of the Church. 

 "Seek after and encourage inquirers. 

 "Hold household devotional meetings. 

 "Sustain missionary work for young women. 

 "Make the Church home cheerful and happy. 

 "Arrange social home gatherings for various church or charitable enterprises. 

 "Solicit books or periodicals for the reading room or circulating library. 

 "Secure employment for the needy. 

 "Treat all visitors to the rooms as special personal guests in your home. 

 "Undertake large things for the Church and Christ in many ways, as may be suggested by any new conditions and deeds. 

 "Instruct in domestic arts, dressmaking, millinery, cooking, decoration, and, through the Samaritan Hospital, in the art of nursing. 

 "Furnish statedly instructive entertainments for the young. 

 "Develop the various singing services. 

 "Specially care for and assist young sisters. 

 "Coöperate in sewing enterprises of all sorts. 

 "Aid the Pastors by systematic visitation. 

 "Push many branches of City Missions, especially with reference to developing young women as workers. 

 "Maintain suitable young women as missionaries at home or in foreign fields. 

 "Carry sunshine to darkened hearts and homes. 

 "Be noble, influential Christian women. "

It has a room of its own in the Lower Temple, with circulatinglibrary, piano and all the cheerful furnishings of a parlor in thehome. To this bright room comes many a girl from her dreary boardinghouse to spend the evening in reading and social chat. It has beenthe cheery starting point in many a girl's life to a career of happyusefulness. 

The Young Men's Association follows similar lines and is an equallyimportant factor in the church work. It plans to:

 "Help increase the membership and efficiency of the Young Men's Bible Class and other similar organizations. 

 "Persistently follow the meetings of these associations and keep them in the hands of able, consecrated managers and officers, who will lead in the best enterprises of the church. 

 "Make the reading-room attractive and helpful. 

 "Help sustain the great Sunday morning prayer meeting. 

 "Invite passers-by to enter the church, and welcome strangers who do enter. 

 "Advise seekers after God. 

 "Bring back the wandering. 

 "Organize relief committees to save the lost young men of the city. 

 "Look after traveling business men at hotels, and bring them to The Temple. 

 "Promote temperance, purity, fraternity and spiritual life. 

 "Initiate the most important undertakings of the church. 

 "Surround themselves with strong young men, and inaugurate vigorous, fresh plans and methods for bringing the gospel to the young men of to-day in store, shop, office, school, college, on the streets, and elsewhere. 

 "Visit sick members, help into lucrative employment, organize religious meetings, make the church life of the young bright, inspiring and noble, plan for sociables, entertainments for closer acquaintance and for raising money for Christian work and to use their pens for Christ among young men whom they know, and also with strangers. "

It has a delightful room in the Lower Temple, carpeted, supplied withbooks, good light, a piano, comfortable chairs. It is a real home foryoung men alone in the city or without family or home ties. 

During the building of The Temple many associations were formed which, when the need was over, merged into others. As Burdette says:

"Often a working guild of some sort is brought into existence for aspecific but transient purpose; the object accomplished, thework completed, the society disbands, or merges into some otherorganization, or reorganizes under a new name for some new work. Thework of Grace Church is like the operations of a great army; recruitsare coming to the front constantly; regiments being assigned to thiscorps, and suddenly withdrawn to reinforce that one; two or threecommands consolidated for a sudden emergency; one regiment deployedalong a great line of small posts; infantry detailed into thebatteries, cavalry dismounted for light infantry service, yet allthe time in all this apparent confusion and restless change whichbewilders the civilian, everything is clear and plain andperfectly regular and methodical to the commanding general and hissubordinates. "

Another association of this kind was the "Committee of One Hundred, "organized in 1891. The suggestion for its organization came from theYoung Women's Association. A number of them went to the Trustees andproposed that the Board should appoint a committee of fifty from amongthe congregation to devise ways and means to raise money for payingoff the floating indebtedness of the church. The suggestion wasadopted. The Committee of Fifty was appointed, each organization ofthe church being represented in it by one or more members. It met fororganization in 1892. The Young Women's Association, pledged itself toraise $1, 000 during the year. Other societies pledged certain sums. Individuals went to work to swell the amount, and in one year, theCommittee reported that the floating debt of the church, which at thetime of the Committee's organization was $25, 000, was paid. Encouragedby this success the Committee enlarged itself to one hundred andvigorously attacked the work of paying off the mortgage of $15, 200 onthe ground on which the college was to be built. 

Among the minor associations of the church that promoted goodfellowship and did a definite good work in their time were the"Tourists' Club, " a social development of the Young Women'sAssociation. The members took an ideal European trip while sitting inthe pleasant reading room in the Lower Temple. A route of travel waslaid out a month in advance. Each member present took some part; toone was assigned the principal buildings; to another, some famouspainting; to others, parks, hotels, places of amusement, ruins, etc. , until at the close of the evening they almost could hear the tongue ofthe strange land through which in fancy they had journeyed. Maps andpictures helped to materialize the journey. 

The "Girls" Auxiliary was formed to meet the needs of the youngermembers of the church. Any girl under sixteen could become a memberby the payment of monthly dues of five cents. There were classes inembroidery, elocution, sewing, etc. 

The "Youth's Culture League" was organized for the work among youth ofthe slums; an effort to supplement public school education, making ita stepping-stone to higher culture and better living. 

Sports of various kinds of course received attention. The TempleGuard, the Temple Cyclers, the Baseball League gave opportunity forall to enjoy some form of healthy outdoor sport. But since the collegeand its gymnasium have become so prominent, those who now join suchorganizations usually do it through college instead of church doors. 

The following incident from the "Philadelphia Evening Bulletin" istypical of the help these organizations often gave the church in itsreligious work:

[Illustration: THE OBSERVATORY

Built on the Site of the Old Hemlock Tree]

[Illustration: THE PRESENT CONWELL HOMESTEAD IN MASSACHUSETTS]

"Eight and a half years ago the Rev. Russell H. Conwell surprised agreat many people by organizing a military company among his littleboys. The old wiseacres shook their heads, and the elders of the oldschool wondered at this new departure in church work. Then again hefairly shocked them by making the organization non-sectarian, andsecuring one of the best tacticians in the city to instruct theboys in military science. . . . From the first the company has clearlydemonstrated that it is the best-drilled military organization in thecity, and the number of prizes fairly won demonstrates this. However, the company does not wish to be understood as being merely inexistence for prize honors, although it cannot be overlooked thattwenty victories over as many companies afford them the best record inPennsylvania. 

"In 1896, the Samaritan Rescue Mission was established by the GraceBaptist Church, and proving a great financial burden, Dr. Conwelloffered to give a lecture on Henry Ward Beecher. The Guard took thematter up, brought Mrs. Henry Ward Beecher, despite her threescoreyears and ten, to Philadelphia for the first time in her life, andso great was the desire of the church-loving public of this city toattend that the mission did not perish. "

When the stress of building and paying the church debt was passed, many of these societies went heart and soul into the ChristianEndeavor work. Indeed, for awhile it seemed as if the ChristianEndeavor would absorb all the church associations. There are atpresent fifteen Christian Endeavor Societies in the church. Inaddition to the Christian Endeavor pledge, the following special waysin which they can forward the church work is ever held before eachmember:

"For the sake of your character and future success, as well as for thesupreme cause, keep your pledge unflinchingly. 

"Endeavor persistently, but courteously, to seek after those who askfor our prayers and advice at any meeting. 

"Never discontinue your endeavors to get new members for thesocieties. Follow it continually in the name of the Lord. 

"Endeavor each day to think, speak, act and pray like the Savior. 

"Endeavor and present plans for effective work. Build up a standard ofnoble living in the Church. 

"Send comforting messages to members of the Church in sorrow, sendflowers to the sick, or for the funeral, look after the orphans, visitthe widows and the fatherless, write letters of advice, invitation, condolence, establish missions for new churches in growing parts ofthe city, and hold by kindness at least one thousand personal friendsat The Baptist Temple. 

"Select one leading duty, and follow it without waiting to be asked. 

"Make yourself a master of some special line of Christian effort. 

"Save some one!"

Five of these societies some years ago started a mission at Logan, a suburb of Philadelphia, and so successful was their work that themission soon grew into a flourishing church. 

The Ushers' Association is one of the strongest and most helpfulorganizations in furthering the church work. The ushers numbertwenty-four, and are banded together in a businesslike association formutual pleasure and good fellowship, and also to better conduct theirwork and the church interests they have in hand. They are under theleadership of a chief usher who is president of the Association. Thespirit of hospitality that pervades The Temple finds its happiestexpression in the courteous welcome and ready attention accordedvisitors by the ushers. 

All members of the church who are willing to give up their seats tostrangers on special occasions send their names to the chief usher. And it is no unusual thing to see a member cheerfully relinquish hisseat after a whispered consultation with an usher in favor of somestranger who is standing. 

In addition to their work in seating the crowd that throng to TheTemple either for Sunday services or the many entertainments that fillthe church during the week, the Ushers' Association itself during thewinter gives a series of fine entertainments. Its object is to offeramusement of the very highest class, so that people will come to thechurch rather than go elsewhere in their leisure hours and thus besurrounded by influences of the best character and by an atmospherethat is elevating and refining. They have also undertaken to pay offthe balance of the church debt. 

Missionary interests at Grace Church are well looked after. The churchhas educated and supported a number of missionaries in home andforeign fields, as well as contributed money and clothing to thecause. The Missionary Circle combines in one organization all thoseinterested in missionary work. One afternoon a month the members meetin the Lower Temple to sew, have supper together, and afterward holdreligious services. The members are advised in the church hand-bookto--

"Suggest plans for raising money; arrange for a series of addresses;organize children's societies; distribute missionary literature;maintain a circulating library of missionary books; correspond withmissionaries; solicit and work for the 'missionary barrels'; send out'comfort bags'; advocate missions in the prayer meetings and socials;encourage those members who are preparing for or are going intoforeign fields, and maintain special missionary prayer meetings. "

Members of the church have started several missions, some of whichhave already grown into flourishing churches. The Logan Baptist Churchand the Tioga Baptist Church, are both daughters of The Temple. 

The Samaritan Aid Society sews and secures contributions of clothingand such supplies for the Samaritan Hospital. Other charities, however, needing such help, find it ever willing to lend its aid. Itis ready for any emergency that may arise. A hurry call was sentonce for sheets, pillow cases and garments for the sick at SamaritanHospital. The President of the Society quickly summoned the members. Merchants were visited and contributions of muslin and thread secured. Sewing machines were sent to the Lower Temple. An all-day sewing beewas held, those who could, came all day, others dropped in as timepermitted, and by sunset more than three hundred pieces of work werefinished. 

Two other organizations very helpful to the members of the churchare the Men's Beneficial Association and the Women's BeneficialAssociation. They are purely for the benefit of church members duringsickness or bereavement, and are managed as all such associations are, paying $5. 00 a week during sickness and $100 at death. 

The books are closed at the end of each year and the fund startedafresh. 

The Temple Building and Loan Association was organized by themembership of the Business Men's Association, and is officered byprominent members of the church. But it is not in any way a churchorganization and is not under the management of the church. It isvery successful and its stockholders are composed largely of churchmembers. 

To keep members and friends in touch with the many lines of activityin which the church works, a magazine, "The Temple Review, " ispublished. It is a private business enterprise, but it chronicleschurch work and publishes each week Dr. Conwell's sermons. Manyliving at a distance who cannot come often to The Temple find it mostenjoyable and helpful to thus obtain their pastor's sermons, and tolook through the printed page into the busy life of the church itself. It helps members in some one branch of the church work to keep intouch with what others are doing. The work of the college and hospitalfrom week to week is also chronicled, so that it is a very good mirrorof the many activities of the Grace Church membership. 

Thus in good fellowship the church works unitedly to further Christ'skingdom. New organizations are formed as some enthusiastic memberdiscerns a new need or a new field. It is a veritable hive of industrywhose doors are never closed day or night. 

CHAPTER XXIII

FAIRS AND ENTERTAINMENTS

The Temple Fairs. How They are Planned. Their Religious Aim. Appointment of Committees. How the Committees Work. The ChurchEntertainments. Their Character. 

Not only does the church work in a hundred ways through its regularorganizations to advance the spiritual life of its members and thecommunity, but once every year, organization fences are taken down andas a whole and united body, it marches forward to a great fair. TheTemple fairs are famous. They form an important feature of churchlife, and an important date in the church calendar. 

"The true object of a church fair should be to strengthen the church, to propagate the Gospel, and to bring the world nearer to its God. "That is Dr. Conwell's idea of the purpose of a church fair and thebasic principle on which The Temple fairs are built. They always openon Thanksgiving Day, the anniversary of Dr. Conwell's coming to thechurch and continue for ten days or two weeks thereafter. These fairsare most carefully planned. The membership, of course, know that afair is to be held; but before any definite information of the specialfair coming, is given them, a strong foundation of systematic, carefulpreparation is laid. In the early summer, before Dr. Conwell leavesfor his two months' rest at his old home in the Berkshires, he and thedeaconess of the church go over the ground, decide on the executivecommittee and call it together. Officers are elected, Dr. Conwellalways being appointed president and the deaconess, as a rule, secretary. The whole church membership is then carefully studied, and every member put at work upon some committee, a chairman forthe committee being appointed at the same time. A notice of theirappointment, the list of their fellow workers, and a letter from thepastor relative to the fair are then sent to each. Usually these listsare prepared and forwarded from Dr. Conwell's summer home. The chiefpurpose of the fair, that of saving souls, is ever kept in view. Thepastor in his letter to each member always lays special stress on it. Quoting from one such letter, he says:

"The religious purpose is to consolidate our church by a moreextensive and intimate acquaintance with each other, and to enlargethe circle of social influence over those who have not acceptedChrist. 

"This enterprise being undertaken for the service of Christ, eachchurch member is urged to enter it with earnest prayer, and to useevery opportunity to direct the attention of workers and visitors tospiritual things. 

"Each committee should have its prayer circle or a special season setapart for devotional services. This carnival being undertaken for thespiritual good of the church, intimate friends and those who havehitherto worked together are especially requested to separate onthis occasion and work with new members, forming a new circle ofacquaintances. 

"Do not seek for a different place unless it is clear that you can domuch more in another position, for they honor God most who take up Hiswork right where they are and do faithfully the duty nearest to them. 

"Your pastor prays earnestly that this season of work, offering, andpleasure may be used by the Lord to help humanity and add to the gloryof His Kingdom on earth. "

This is the tenor of the letters sent each year. This is the purposeheld ever before the workers. 

Each committee is urged to meet as soon as possible, and, as a rule, the chairman calls a meeting within a week after the receipt of thelist. Each committee upon meeting elects a president, vice-president, secretary and treasurer, which, together with the original executivecommittee, form the executive committee of the fair. 

During the summer and fall, until the opening of the fair, thesevarious committees work to secure contributions or whatever may beneeded for the special work they have been appointed to do. If theyneed costumes, or expensive decorations for the booths, they giveentertainments to raise the money. All this depends upon the characterof the fair in general. Sometimes it is a fair in the accepted senseof the word, devoted to the selling of such goods as interestedfriends and well-wishers have contributed. At other times it takeson special significance. At one fair each committee represented acountry, the members dressed in the costume of its people, the boothso far as possible was typical of a home, or some special building. Such products of the country as could be obtained were among thearticles sold or exhibited. 

Every committee meeting is opened with prayer, and each night duringthe fair a prayer meeting is held. In addition, a committee isappointed to look after the throng of strangers visiting the fair, andwhenever possible, to get them to register in a book kept especiallyfor that purpose at the entrance. To all those who sign the register, a New Year's greeting is sent as a little token of recognition andappreciation of their help. 

Much of the great tide of membership that flows into the church comesthrough the doors of these church fairs. The fairs are really revivalseasons. They are practical illustrations of how a working churchprays, and a praying church works. Christianity has on its workingclothes. But it is Christianity none the less, outspoken in its faith, fearless in its testimony, full of the love that desires to help everyman and woman to a higher, happier life. 

The church entertainments form another important feature of churchlife. Indeed, from the first of September until summer is wellstarted, few weekday nights pass but that some religious service orsome entertainment is taking place in The Temple. In the height ofthe season, it is no uncommon thing for two or three to be givenin various halls of The Temple on one evening. An out-of-town manattending a lecture at the Lower Temple, and seeing the throngs ofpeople pouring in at various entrances, asked the custodian of thedoor if there were a rear entrance to the auditorium. 

"Here's where you go in for the lecture, " was the reply. "There aretwo other entertainments on hand this evening in the halls of theLower Temple. That's where those people are going. "

In regard to church fairs and entertainments, Dr. Conwell said in asermon in 1893:

"The Lord pity any church that has not enough of the spirit of Christin it to stand a church fair, wherein devout offerings are brought tothe tithing-house in the spirit of true devotion; the Lord pity anychurch that has not enough of the spirit of Jesus in it to endure orenjoy a pure entertainment. Indeed, they are subjects for prayer ifthey cannot, without quarrels, without fightings, without defeat tothe cause of Christ, engage in the pure and innocent things God offersto His children. "

And in an address on "The Institutional Church, " he says:

"The Institutional church of the future will have the best regularlecture courses of the highest order. There will be about themsufficient entertainment to hold the audience, while at the same timethey give positive instruction and spiritual elevation. Every churchof Christ is so sacred that it ought to have within its walls anythingthat helps to save souls. If an entertainment is put into a churchfor any secular purpose--simply to make money--that church will bedivided; it will be meshed in quarrels, and souls will not be savedthere. There must be a higher end; as between the church and the worldwe must use everything that will save and reject everything that willinjure. This requires careful and close attention. You must keep inmind the question, 'Will Jesus come here and save souls?' Carefullyeliminate all that will show irreverence for holy things or disrespectfor the church. Carefully introduce wherever you can the directteachings of the Gospel, and then your entertainments will be thepower of God unto salvation. The entertainments of the church need tobe carefully guarded, and, if they are, then will the church of thefuture control the entertainments of the world. The theatre that hasits displays of low and vulgar amusement will not pay, because thechurches will hold the best classes, and for a divine and humanepurpose will conduct the best entertainments. There will be a doubleinducement that will draw all classes. The Institutional church of thefuture will be free to use any reasonable means to influence men forgood. "

The Temple, as can be seen, believes in good, pure, elevatingamusements. But every entertainment to be given is carefullyconsidered. In such a vast body of workers, many of them young andinexperienced, this is necessary. By a vote of the church, everyprogramme to be used in any entertainment in The Temple must firstbe submitted to the Board of Deacons. What they disapprove cannot bepresented to the congregation of Grace Church under any circumstance. 

The concerts and oratorios of the chorus are of the very highest orderand attract music lovers from all parts of the city and nearby towns. The other entertainments in the course of a year cover such a varietyof subjects that every one is sure to find something to his liking. Among the lectures given in one year were:

"Changes and Chances, " by Dr. George C. Lorimer. 

"The Greek Church, " by Charles Emory Smith. 

"Ancient Greece, " by Professor Leotsakos, of the University of Athens. 

An illustrated lecture on the Yellowstone Park, by Professor George L. Maris. 

"Work or How to Get a Living, " by Hon. Roswell G. Horr. 

"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, " by Rev. Robert Nourse, D. D. 

"Backbone, " by Rev. Thomas Dixon. 

The other entertainments that season included selections from "DavidCopperfield, " by Leland T. Powers; readings by Fred Emerson Brooks, concerts by the Germania Orchestra, the Mendelssohn Quintette Clubof Boston and the Ringgold Band of Reading, Pennsylvania; a "GreekFestival, " tableaux, by students of Temple College; "Tableaux of EastIndian Life, " conducted by a returned missionary, Mrs. David Downie;"Art Entertainment, " by the Young Women's Association; concert by theNew York Philharmonic Club; and many entertainments by societies ofthe younger people, music, recitations, readings, debates, suppers, excursions, public debates, class socials. The year seems to have beenfull of entertainments, teas, anniversaries, athletic meetings, "cycleruns, " gymnasium exhibitions, "welcomes, " "farewells, " jubilees, "feasts. " But every year is the same. 

A single society of the church gave during one winter a series ofentertainments which included four lectures by men prominent inspecial fields of work, four concerts by companies of nationalreputation, and an intensely interesting evening with moving pictures. 

"We are often criticised as a church, " said Mr. Conwell, in anaddress, "by persons who do not understand the purposes or spirit ofour work. They say, 'You have a great many entertainments and socials, and the church is in danger of going over to the world. ' Ah, yes; theold hermits went away and hid themselves in the rocks and caves andlived on the scantiest food, and 'kept away from the world, ' They wereseparate from the world. They were in no danger of 'going over to theworld. ' They had hidden themselves far away from man. And so it is insome churches where in coldness and forgetfulness of Christ's purpose, of Christ's sacrifice, and the purpose for which the church wasinstituted, they withdraw themselves so far from the world that theycannot save a drowning man when he is in sight--they cannot reach downto him, the distance is too great--the life line is too short. Whereare the unchurched masses of Philadelphia to-day? Why are they notin the churches at this hour? Because the church is so far away. Thedifference that is found between the church which saves and that whichdoes not is found in the fact that the latter holds to the Pharisaicalprofession that the church must keep itself aloof from thepeople--yes, from the drowning thousands who are going down toeverlasting ruin--to be forever lost. The danger is not now so much ingoing over to the world as in going away from it--away from the worldwhich Jesus died to save--the world which the church should lead toHim. "

In all these entertainments, the true mission of the church is neverforgotten--that mission which its pastor so earnestly and often saysis "not to entertain people. The church's only thought should be toturn the hearts of men to God. "

CHAPTER XXIV

THE BUSINESS SIDE

How the Finances are Managed. The Work of the Deacons. The Duties ofthe Trustees. 

"The plain facts of life must be recognized, " says Dr. Conwell. Thebusiness affairs of Grace Baptist Church are plain facts and big ones. There is no evading them. The membership is more than three thousand. A constant stream of money from the rental of seats, from voluntaryofferings, from entertainments, is pouring in, and as quickly goingout for expenses and charitable purposes. It must all be looked after. A record of the membership must be kept, changes of address made--andthis is no light matter--the members themselves kept in touch with. It all means work of a practical business nature and to get the bestresults at least expenditure of time and money, it must all be done inskilled, experienced fashion. Dr. Conwell, in speaking of the carefulway in which the business affairs of the church are conducted, says:

"What has contributed most as the means used of God to bring GraceChurch up to its efficiency? I answer it was the inspired, sanctified, common sense of enterprising, careful business men. The disciplinedjudgment, the knowledge of men, the forethought and skill of theseworkers who were educated at the school of practical businesslife, helped most. The Trustees and working committees in all ourundertakings, whether for Church, Hospital, College, or Missions, havebeen, providentially, men of thorough business training, who usedtheir experience and skill for the church with even greater care andperseverance than they would have done in their own affairs. 

"When they wanted lumber, they knew where to purchase it, and how toobtain discounts. When they needed money, they knew where the moneywas, and what securities were good in the market. They saved bydiscounting their own bills, and kindly insisted that contractors andlaborers should earn fairly the money they received. They foresaw thefinancial needs and always insisted on securing the money in full timeto meet demands. 

"Some men make religion so dreamy, so unreal, so unnatural, that themore they believe in it the less practical they become. They expectravens to feed them, the cruse of oil to be inexhaustible, and thefish to come to the right side of the ship at breakfast time. Theytrust in God and loaf about. They would conduct mundane affairs asthough men were angels and church business a series of miracles. Butthe successful church worker is one who recognizes the plain facts oflife, and their relation to heavenly things; who is neither profanenor crazy, who feels that his experience and judgment are gifts of Godto be used, but who also fully realizes that, after all, unless Godlives in the house, they labor in vain who build it. 

"None of our successful managers have been flowery orators, nor havethey been in the habit of wearying man and the Lord with long prayers. If they speak, they are earnest and conservative. They are men whom thebanks would trust, whose recommendations are valuable, who know acounterfeit dollar or a worthless endorsement They read men at a glance, being trained in actual experience with all classes. They have been thepillars of the church. While some have been praying with religiousphraseology that the stray calf might be sent home, these men have goneafter him and brought him back. They have faithfully done their part, and God has answered their earnest prayers for the rest. "

Dr. Peltz, for many years associate pastor of The Temple, in speakingof the business management of the affairs of the church, says:

"Many persons imagine that the financial organization of Grace BaptistChurch must be something out of the usual way, because the resultshave been so unusual. There is nothing peculiar in the general plan offinancial procedure, but great pains are taken to work the plan forall it is worth. Special pains have been taken to secure consecratedand competent men for the Board of Trustees. And the Trustees do thisone thing, a rule of the church permitting a man to hold but oneelective office. Competent financiers, consecrated to this work, anddoing it as carefully as they would do their own business, is thestatement that tells the whole story. "

All these business matters are in the hands of the deacons andTrustees, the deacons, if any distinction in the work can be made, looking after the membership, the Board of Trustees attending to thefinancial matters. 

[Illustration: _Photo by Gutehunst_ PROFESSOR DAVID D WOOD]

After a person has signified his intention to join the church, hemeets the deacons, who explain to him the system by which memberscontribute to the support of the church. If he desires to contributeby taking a sitting, he is assigned a seat according to the amount hewishes to pay, or he can pay the regular church dues, $1. 20 a yearfor those under eighteen years of age, $3. 00 for those over that age. Those who take sittings find in their seats, on the first of everymonth, a small envelope made out in bill form on the face, stating themonth and the amount due. Into this they can place their money, seal it, and put it into the basket when the offering is taken. Thefollowing Sunday a receipt is placed in their seat, a duplicate beingkept in the office. Envelopes are sent those who do not have sittings, and in these they can send in their dues any time within the year. 

In addition to the little envelope for the seat rent, every Sundayenvelopes are placed in each seat for the regular Sunday offering. These envelopes read:

 SPECIAL OFFERING

 THE BAPTIST TEMPLE

 Amount . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 Name . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 Address . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 This offering is made in thankful recognition of the Mercy and Goodness of God during the past week, and with the hope that my gift and my prayer may he acceptable to God. 

 In addition to the amount raised from sittings and dues, it is necessary for the payment of the debt on the Temple to have givers for 5 years as follows:

 100 persons who will contribute 50 cents per week. 300 persons 25 cents per week. 1000 persons 10 cents per week. 1300 persons 5 cents per week. 

 VISITORS AND MEMBERS

 Can enclose special Messages for the Pastor with their offerings. 

 This Gift will be Recorded on the books of the Church. 

All this money pours into the business office of the church, where itis taken in charge by the Finance Committee of the Board of Trusteesand duly recorded by the Financial Secretary. 

The business office is a very businesslike place, with files, typewriter, letter-copying press, big ledgers and all the modernappliances of an up-to-date business office. 

The card system is used for keeping the record of member'scontribution, being printed in a form that will last for eight years. 

All payments are entered on these, and at any time at a moment'snotice, a member can tell just what he has paid or what he owes on theyear's account. 

But in addition, the Sunday offerings of all those who place theircontributions in envelopes at the morning and evening service and signtheir names, are entered on cards, and when it is remembered that thebasket collections alone for the year 1904 amounted to $6, 995. 00, itcan be seen that this is no light task. But The Temple appreciateswhat is given it, and likes to keep a record. Any person giving to TheTemple and signing his name to his gift, can find at any time how muchhe has contributed during the year. 

All this income is deposited to the order of the church treasurer, who is then at liberty to draw against it as directed by the Board ofTrustees and properly certified by their chairman and secretary. Thebusiness office is kept open during the entire week with the exceptionof two afternoons, and two evenings. 

The pew committee, which is composed of three members of the Board ofTrustees, attends to the rental of the many sittings in The Temple. Alarge number of the regular attendants at the services of The Templeare not members of the church. They enjoy the services and so rentsittings that they may he sure of a seat. The third committee drawnfrom the Board of Trustees is the House Committee, composed of threemembers. It has charge of The Temple building; sees to its being keptin order; arranges for all regular and special meetings; sees that thebuilding is properly heated and lighted; decides on all questions asto the use of the house for any purpose, for the use of a part of itfor special purposes; manages the great crowds that so often throngthe building; has charge of the doors when entertainments are goingon; in short, makes the most and the best of the great building underits care. Six persons are constantly employed in taking care of TheTemple, and often there is necessity for securing extra help for thecaretakers of this church whose doors are never shut. 

The Deacons, as always, look after the welfare of the membership. OnCommunion Sundays, cards are passed the members that they may signtheir names. These cards the Deacons take charge of and record themembers present and those absent If a member is away three successivecommunion Sundays the Deacons call on him, if he lives in the city, tofind the cause of his absence. If he resides in some neighboring town, they send a kindly letter to know if it is not possible for him toattend some of the Communion services. In person or by letter, theykeep a loving watch over the vast membership, so that every memberfeels that even though he may not attend often, he is not forgotten. 

Thus the business of Grace Baptist Church is managed prayerfully butpractically. If some part of the machinery seems cumbersome, shrewdand experienced minds take the matter in hand and see whereby it canbe improved. What may seem a good method to-day, a year from now maybe deemed a waste of time and energy and cast aside for the new andimproved system that has taken its place in the world of every-daywork. In its business methods the church keeps up to the times, aswell as in its spiritual work. It knows it cannot grow if it is notalive. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE CHORUS OF THE TEMPLE

Its Leader, Professor David Wood. How he Came to the Church. A sketchof His life. The Business Management of the Chorus. The Fine System. The Sheet Music and Its Care. Oratorios and Concerts. Finances of theChorus. Contributions it has Made to Church Work. 

With a pastor who had loved music from childhood, who taught it inhis early manhood, who was himself proficient on several instruments, music naturally assumed an important place in Temple life and work. From the moment of his entering upon the pastorate of Grace BaptistChurch, Mr. Conwell made the music an enjoyable feature of theservices. 

In this early work of organizing and developing a church choir, hefound an able and loyal leader in Professor David D. Wood, who threwhimself heart and soul into helping the church to grow musically. Hehas been to the musical life of the church what Mr. Conwell has beento its spiritual growth, and next to their pastor himself, it isdoubtful if any man is so endeared to the Grace Church membership asis Professor Wood, their blind organist. 

He came to them in May, 1885, the regular organist being sick. Hisconnection with the church came about in the most simple manner andyet it has been invaluable to the work of The Temple. His son was anattendant at the church, and when the regular organist fell ill, asked his father if he would not take his place. Ever ready to do akindness. Professor Wood consented. The organist never sufficientlyrecovered to come back to his post, being compelled to go West finallyfor his health. Mr. Conwell asked Professor Wood to take the position, and from that day to the present he has filled it to the satisfactionand gratification of the Grace Church. 

He was born in Pittsburgh, March 2, 1838. His parents were poor, hisfather being a carpenter and he himself built the little log cabin inwhich the family lived. When David was a baby only a few months old, he lost the sight of one eye by inflammation resulting from a severecold. When about three years old, he noiselessly followed his sisterinto the cellar one day, intending in a spirit of mischief to blow outthe candle she was carrying. Just as he leaned over to do it, she, unconscious that he was there, raised up, thrusting the candle in herhand right into his eye. The little boy's cry of pain was the firstwarning of his presence. The eye was injured, but probably he wouldnot entirely have lost its sight had he not been attacked shortlyafter this with scarlet fever. When he recovered from this illnesshe was entirely blind. But the affliction did not change his sweet, loving disposition. He entered as best he could into the games andsports of childhood and grew rugged and strong. One day, while playingin the road, he was nearly run over by a carriage driven by a lady. Learning the little fellow was blind, she became interested in himand told his father of the school for the blind in Philadelphia. Hisparents decided to send him to it, and at five years of age he wassent over the mountains, making the journey in five days by canal. 

He was a bright, diligent pupil and a great reader, showing even at anearly age his passion for music. When eight years old, he learned theflute. Soon he could play the violin and piano, and in his twelfthyear he began playing the organ. All these instruments he took up andmastered himself without special instruction. In mathematics, James G. Blaine was his instructor for two years. 

After leaving school his struggles to succeed as an organist were hardand hitter. Despite his unusual ability, it was difficult to secure aposition. He met with far more refusals than encouragement. But he waspersistent and cheerful. Finally success came. Two days before Easterthe organist of an Episcopal church was suddenly incapacitated and noone could be found to play the music. Professor Wood offered himself. The rector's wife read the music to him. He learned it in an hour, and rehearsal and the services passed off without a break. He wasimmediately engaged, his salary being one hundred dollars a year, hisnext position paid him fifty dollars a year. In 1864, he went to St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Philadelphia, as choirmaster and organist, which position he still holds, playing at The Temple in the eveningsonly. 

He is to-day one of the most widely known organists of the country, being acknowledged everywhere a master of the instrument. He is amember of the faculty of the Philadelphia Musical Academy, principalof the music department in the Pennsylvania School for the Blind. Itis said he has trained more good organists than any other teacher inPhiladelphia. 

His cheery, kindly personality wins loyalty and devotion at once. HisChristianity is the simple, loving, practical kind that fairly shinesfrom his presence and attracts people to him immediately. The membersof the Chorus of The Temple are devoted to him. No rules are requiredto keep them in order; no other inspiration to do their best is neededthan his simple wish. 

In the old church at Mervine and Berks streets he had a volunteerchoir of about twenty, all that the little organ loft wouldaccommodate. They could sing as the birds sing, because they hadvoices and loved it, but of musical training or education they hadlittle. They were drawn from the membership of the church, composed ofpoor working people. 

From this nucleus grew the chorus of The Temple, which was organizedin 1891, six weeks before the membership took possession of its newbuilding. With the organization of this large chorus, Professor Woodfaced a new and difficult problem. How was he to hold from one hundredto one hundred and fifty people together, who were not paid for theirservices, who were not people of leisure to whom rehearsals are no taxon time or strength? These were nearly all working people who came torehearsal after a day's tiring employment. That he has succeeded sosplendidly in these fourteen years proves his fine leadership. 

He had a body of workers devoted to the church, people before whom wasever held up the fact that they could serve the Master they all lovedby singing, if they could in no other way; that they could give theirvoices, if they could give nothing else. He had a body of workersdevoted also to himself, who would have followed him unhesitatingly nomatter what commands he lay upon them. But he felt they should havesome other encouragement, some other interest to hold them together, so almost immediately upon their organization he took up the study ofHaydn's "Creation. " It seemed a stupendous undertaking for a young andinexperienced chorus, one with no trained voices, few of whom couldeven read music at sight. But they plunged into the study with spirit. No incentive was needed to come to rehearsals, no one thought ofdropping out. Indeed, the opportunity to study such music under sucha master brought many new members. And in the fall of that year theoratorio was given with splendid success. 

This method has been followed ever since. Every year some special workis taken up for study and given in the fall. It is an event that isnow a recognized feature of the city's musical life, eagerly awaitedby music lovers not only of Philadelphia but of nearby towns. Inaddition to Haydn's "Creation, " which has been sung four times, the chorus has given Handel's "Messiah" three times, Mendelssohn's"Elijah" twice, Beethoven's "Mount of Olives, " Mendelssohn's "Hymn ofPraise, " Miriam's "Song of Triumph. " It has also given a number ofsecular concerts. For all this extra work neither Professor Wood norany member of the chorus has ever received one cent of pay. It is allcheerfully contributed. The oratorios are given with a full orchestraand eminent soloists. In the secular concerts the music is always ofthe highest order. Guilmant, the celebrated French organist, gave arecital at The Temple while in this country. The chorus believesin the best, both in the class of music it gives and the talent itsecures, and has long been looked on by those interested in the city'smusical welfare as a society that encourages and supports all thatis high and fine in music. Among the selections given at the Sundayservices are Gounod's "Sanctus, " the magnificent "Pilgrim's Chorus, "the "Gloria, " from Mozart's "Twelfth Mass, " Handel's beautiful"Largo, " the "St. Cecilia Mass, " and others of the same character. 

The plan of fining members for absence from rehearsal, which wasadopted at the time the chorus was organized, has also had much to dowith its success, though it is rather unusual for a choir. Instead ofbeing paid to sing, they pay if they do not sing. The fine at firstwas twenty-five cents for each failure to attend rehearsal or Sundayservice. Many shook their heads and said it was a bad idea, that themembers wouldn't come and couldn't pay the fine, and that the choruswould go to pieces. But the members did come, and when for any reasonthey were compelled to stay away they cheerfully paid the fine and thechorus flourished. These fines helped to pay the current expenses ofthe chorus. In the last three years the amount has been reduced toten cents, but it still nets a sum in the course of the year that thetreasurer welcomes most gladly. A collection is also taken at eachservice among the members, which likewise helps to swell the chorustreasury. 

Speaking of the organization and work of such a chorus, Professor Woodsays:

"In organizing a church chorus one must not be too particular aboutthe previous musical education of applicants. It is not necessary thatthey be musicians, or even that they read music readily. All that Iinsist upon is a fairly good voice and a correct ear. I assume, ofcourse, that all comers desire to learn to sing. Rehearsals must bescrupulously maintained, beginning promptly, continuing with spirit, and not interrupted with disorder of any kind. A rehearsal shouldnever exceed two hours, and a half hour less is plenty long enough, if there is no waste of time. In learning new music, voices should berehearsed separately; that is, all sopranos, tenors, basses, and altosby themselves first, then combine the voices. You should place beforea choir a variety of music sufficient to arouse the interest of allconcerned. This will include much beyond the direct demand for churchwork. The chorus of The Temple has learned and sung on appropriateoccasions war songs, college songs, patriotic songs, and other gradesof popular music. 

"No one man's taste should rule in regard to these questions asto variety, although the proprieties of every occasion should becarefully preserved. Due regard must be paid to the taste of membersof the chorus. If any of them express a wish for a particular piece, Ilet them have it. When it comes my time to select, they are with me. Keep some high attainment before the singers all the time. When theeasier tasks are mastered, attempt something more difficult. Itmaintains enthusiasm to be ever after something better, andenthusiasm is a power everywhere. In music, this is 'the spirit whichquickeneth. '

"In the preparation of chorus work do not insist on perfection. WhenI get them to sing fairly well, I am satisfied. To insist on extremeaccuracy will discourage singers. Do not, therefore, overtrain them. 

"An incredible amount may be done even by a crude company of singers. When the preparation began for the opening of The Temple, there wasbut a handful of volunteers and time for but five rehearsals. Butenthusiasm rose, reinforcements came, and six anthems, including the'Hallelujah Chorus, ' were prepared and sung in a praiseworthy manner. Do not fear to attempt great things. Timidity ruins many a chorus. 

"Do not be afraid to praise your singers. Give praise, and plenty ofit, whenever and wherever it is due. A domineering spirit will provedisastrous. Severity or ridicule will kill them. Correct faultsfaithfully and promptly, but kindly. 

"In the matter of discipline I am a strong advocate of the 'finesystem. ' It is the only way to keep a chorus together. The finesshould he regulated according to the financial ability of the chorus. Our fine at The Temple was at first twenty-five cents for everyrehearsal and every service missed. It has since been dropped to tencents. This is quite moderate. In some musical societies the fine isone dollar for every absence. This system is far better than monthlydues. 

"The advantages to members of a chorus are many and of great value. Concerted work has advantages which can be secured in no other way. Agood chorus is an unequaled drill in musical time. The singer cannothumor himself as the soloist can, but must go right on with the grandadvance of the company. He gets constant help also, in the accuratereading of music. Then, too, there is an indescribable, uplifting, enkindling power in the presence and coöperation of others. The volumeof song lifts one, as when a great congregation sings. It is the_esprit du corps_ of the army; that magnetic power which comes fromthe touch of elbows, and the consecration to a common cause. Nosoloist gets this. 

"Some would-be soloists make a great mistake right here. They thinkthat chorus work spoils them as soloists. Not at all, if they haveproper views of individual work in a chorus. If they propose to singout so they shall sound forth above all others, then they may damagetheir voices for solo work. But that is a needless and highly improperuse of the voice. Sing along with the others in a natural tone. Theywill be helped and the soloist will not be harmed. 

"The best conservatories of music in the world require of theirstudents a large amount of practice in concerted performance and willnot grant diplomas without it. All the great soloists have servedtheir time as chorus singers. Parepa-Rosa, when singing in the soloparts in oratorio, would habitually sing in the chorus parts also, singing from beginning to end with the others. 

"Many persons have expressed their astonishment at the absence of thebaton both from the rehearsals and public performances of the chorusof The Temple. Experience has proven to me, beyond a doubt, that achorus can be better drilled without a baton than with it, though itcosts more labor and patience to obtain the result. To sing by commoninspiration is far better than to have the music 'pumped out, ' as istoo often the case, by the uncertain movements of the leader's baton. "

With a membership that has ranged from one hundred to two hundredand fifty, skilled business management is needed to keep everythingrunning smoothly. 

The record of attendance is regulated by the use of checks. Eachmember of the chorus is assigned a number. As they come to rehearsal, service, or concert, the singer removes the check on which is hisnumber from the board upon which it hangs and gives it to the personappointed to receive it as he passes up the stairway to his seatin the choir. When the numbers are checked up at the close of theevening, the checks which have not been removed from the board aremarked "absent. "

The bill for sheet music for one year is something between $400 and$500. To care for so much music would be no light task if it were notreduced to a science. The music is in charge of the chorus librarian, who gives to each member an envelope stamped with his number andcontaining all the sheet music used by the chorus. Each member isresponsible for his music, so that the system resolves itself intosimplicity itself. In the Lower Temple enclosed closets are built inthe wall, divided into sections, in which the envelopes are kept bytheir numbers, so that it is but the work of a moment to find themusic for any singer. An insurance of $1, 200 is carried on the music. 

Typical of the spirit of self-sacrifice that animates the chorus isthe fact that for nearly ten years after the choir was organized, oneof the members, in order to reduce the expense for sheet music, copiedon a mimeograph all the music used by the members. It was a gigantictask, but he never faltered while the need was felt. 

In order to avoid confusion both in rehearsals and at each service, every singer has an appointed seat. There is also a system of signalsemployed by the organist, clearly understood and promptly respondedto by the chorus, for rising, resuming their seats, and for any otherduty. This regularity of movement, the precision with which the greatchoir leads the attitudes and voices of the congregation in all themusical services, the entire absence of confusion, impresses thethoroughness of the chorus drill upon every one, and adds greatly tothe effectiveness and decorum of the service. 

Most remarkable of all the work of the chorus, perhaps, is the factthat it has not only paid its way, but it has in addition contributedfinancially to the help of the church. Most choral societies have tobe supported by guarantors, or friends or members must reach down intheir pockets and make up the deficits that occur with unpleasantregularity. But the chorus of The Temple has borne its own expensesand at various times contributed to the church work. 

At the annual banquet in 1905, the following statement was made of thefinancial history of the chorus since 1892:

Amount Received-- Collections from members $ 2, 564. 60 Fines paid by members 975. 60 Gross receipts from concerts 11, 299. 40 --------- $14, 839. 60Amount Disbursed-- For music $ 2, 167. 80 For sundry expenses for socials, flowers for sick, contributions for benevolent purposes, etc. 1, 035. 81 Expenses of concerts 8, 506. 34 Contributions to church, college, hospital, Sunday School, repairs to organ, etc. 3, 050. 51 -------- $14, 760. 46

The chorus has furnished a private room in the Samaritan Hospital at acost of $250, pays half the cost of the telephone service to a shut-inmember, so that while lying on his bed of sickness he can still hearthe preaching and singing of his beloved church, and has contributedto members in need; in fact, whatever help was required, it has comeforward and shouldered its share of the financial burdens of thechurch. It is a chorus that helps by its singing in more ways thansinging, though that were enough. 

Out of the chorus has grown many smaller organizations which not onlyassist from time to time in the church and prayer meeting services, but are in frequent demand by Lyceums and other churches. All themoney they earn is devoted to some part of The Temple work. 

The organ which rears its forest of beautiful pipes in the rear of thechurch is one of the finest in the country. It was built under thedirect supervision of Professor Wood at a cost of $10, 000. The caseis of oak in the natural finish, 35 feet wide, 35 feet high, 16 feetdeep. It has 41 stops, 2, 133 pipes, four sets of manuals, each manualwith a compass of 61 notes; there are 30 pedal notes, 9 double-actingcombination pedals; all the metal pipes are 75 per cent pure tin. 

In loving Christian fellowship the chorus abides. No difficulty thatcould not be settled among themselves has ever rent it; no jealousiesmar its peaceful course. Professor Wood is a wise leader. He leavesno loophole for the green-eyed monster to creep in. He selects no onevoice to take solo parts. If a solo occurs, he gives it to the wholeof that voice in the chorus or to a professional. 

Dr. Conwell reads the hymns with so much expression and feeling thatnew meaning is put into them. The stranger is quietly handed a hymnbook by some watchful member. The organ swings into the melody of thehymn, the chorus, as one, rises, and a flood of song sweeps over thevast auditorium that carries every one as in a mighty tide almost upto the gates of heaven itself. And as it ebbs and sinks into silence, faith has been refreshed and strengthened, hardened hearts softened, the love of Christ left as a precious legacy with many a man and womanthere. 

CHAPTER XXVI

SERVICES AT THE TEMPLE

A Typical Sunday. The Young People's Church. Sunday School. TheBaptismal Service. Dedication of Infants. The Pastor's ThanksgivingReception to Children. Sunrise Services. Watch Meeting. 

Sunday is a joyous day at The Temple, and a busy one. It is crowdedwith work and it is good to be there. Services begin at half afternine with prayer meetings in the Lower Temple by the Young Men'sAssociation and the Young Women's Association. The men's is held inthe regular prayer meeting room; the women's in the room of theirassociation. Each is led by some member of the association who isassigned a subject for the morning's study. These subjects, togetherwith the leaders' names, are prepared in advance and printed on alittle schedule which is distributed among the church members, so thatthey may know who has charge of the prayer meeting and the topic forthought. 

Dr. Conwell has for twenty-two years presided at the organ in themen's meeting, and usually before the services are over takes a peepinto the women's gathering, leaving a prayer or a brief word of cheerand inspiration. The meetings are not long, but they are full ofspiritual strength. Men and women, tired with the business life of theweek, find them places of soul refreshment where they can step asidefrom the rush and press of worldly cares and commune with the higher, better things of life. 

By the time the prayer meetings are over, the members of the chorusare thronging the Lower Temple, receiving their music and attendancechecks, waiting for the signal to march to their seats in the churchabove. 

The morning services begin at half after ten, with the singing ofthe Doxology, the chanting of the Lord's Prayer by the choir andcongregation, followed by the sermon. At the close of the service, Dr. Conwell steps from the pulpit and meets all strangers or friends witha hearty handclasp and a cordial word of greeting. 

While morning service is being conducted in The Temple, a YoungPeople's Church is held in the Lower Temple. Dr. Conwell has notforgotten those wearisome Sundays of his boyhood when, too young toappreciate the church service, he fidgeted, strove to keep awake, whittled, and ended it all by thoroughly disliking church. He wants nosuch unhappy youngsters to sit through his preaching. He wants no suchdislike of the church imbedded in childish hearts and minds. So heplanned the Young People's Church. Boys and girls between three andfourteen attend it, and Sunday morning the streets in the neighborhoodof The Temple are thronged with happy-faced children on the way totheir own church, the youngest in the care of parents, who are ablelater to enjoy more fully The Temple services, since they are notcompelled to keep a watchful eye on a restless child. 

Before the services begin, the children are very much at home. Nostiff, silent formalism chills youthful spirits. They are as joyousand happy as they would be in their own homes. As the momentapproaches for the services to begin, they take their seats and at agiven signal rise and recite, "The Lord is in His holy Temple. Let allthe earth keep silence before Him. " A hush falls and then the sweet, childish voices begin that beautiful psalm, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, " and without break or faltering, recite it to theend. Songs follow, bright, cheerful songs full of life, which theysing with a will. Then responsive readings and the Lord's Prayer andalways plenty of singing. A short talk is given by the leader, oftensome one especially secured for the occasion, a talk not over theirheads, but into their hearts, a talk whose meaning they can grasp andwhich sets young minds to thinking of the finer, nobler things oflife and inspires them to so live as to be good and useful. Sometimeslantern exhibits to illustrate special topics are given. The meresight of their bright, happy faces in contrast to the dull, boredexpression of the usual child in church proves the wisdom of the work. 

The children, as far as possible, perform all the duties of theservices. A small boy plays the music for their songs, two small girlskeep a record of the attendance, children take up the offering. Butit is a church in more than mere services. Committees from among thechildren are appointed for visiting, for calling on the sick, to planfor entertainments, provide the games for the socials, and to lookafter all details of this character. There are also two officers, asecretary and treasurer. An advisory committee of ladies, members ofThe Temple, keep an oversight and guiding hand on the work of thechildren. The instruction is all in the hands of trained teachers, mostly from the college, including as Director the lady Dean of theCollege, Dr. Laura H. Carnell. 

In the afternoon the Sunday Schools meet. The youngest children areenrolled in the primary or kindergarten department. This has a bright, cheery room of its own in the Lower Temple, with a leader and a numberof young women scattered here and there among the children to lookafter their needs and keep them orderly. Hats are taken off and hungon pegs on the wall and the youngsters are made to feel very much athome. 

One of the prettiest features of the service in this department isthe offering of the birthday pennies. All the members who have had abirthday during the week come forward to put a penny for each yearinto the basket. Then the class stands up and recites a verse andsings a song on birthdays. Very pretty and inspiring both verse andsong are, and then the honored ones return to their seats, wishing, nodoubt, they had a birthday every week. 

The taking of the offering is also a pretty ceremony. Verses on givingare recited by the children, then one small child takes his stand inthe doorway, holding the basket, and the children all march by anddrop in their pennies. 

The intermediate department claims the next oldest children. It isled by an orchestra composed of members of the Sunday School, and thesinging is joyous and spirited. The superintendent walks around amongthe scholars during the opening exercises, smiling, encouraging, giving a word of praise, urging them to do better. The fresh, clearvoices rise clear and strong. Outside, on Broad Street, people stop tolisten. Men lean up against the windows and drink in the melody. Noone knows what messages of peace and salvation those songs carry outto the throng on the city street. 

The classes of the senior department meet in the various rooms of thecollege, and the adult class in the auditorium of The Temple. This Dr. Conwell conducted himself for a number of years, until pressure ofwork compelled him to use these hours for rest. A popular feature ofhis service was the question box, in which he answered any questionsent to him on any subject connected with religious life or experienceor Christian ethics in everyday life. The questions could be sent bymail or handed to him on the platform by the ushers. They were mostinteresting, and the service attracted men and women from all parts ofthe city. The following was one of the questions, during the year ofbuilding the college:

"Five thousand dollars are due next week, and $15, 000 next month. Willyou set on foot means to raise this amount or trust wholly to God'sdirection?"

And the pastor answered from the platform:

"I would trust wholly in God's direction. This is a sort of test offaith, and I would make it more so in the building of the College. I do not know for certain now where the money is to come from nextWednesday; I have an idea. But a few days ago I did not know at all. Ido not see where the $15, 000 is to come from in December unless it bethat the Feast of Tithes will bring in $10, 000 towards it; that wouldbe a marvelous sum for the people to give, but if it is necessary theywill give it. We are workers together with God. I have partly givenup my lecture work this month, as the church thought it was best, butsuppose there should come to me from Boston, Chicago, St. Louis, orsome other place a call to go and lecture on the 10th or 12thof December, and they should offer me $500 or more--I would sayimmediately, 'Yes, I will go'; that is God's call to help the College;that would be the direction of God. Such opportunities will come tothose who should give this $15, 000. If God intends the amount due onthe College to be paid (and I believe he does), he will cause thehearts of those who desire to help to give money toward this cause. Wetrust entirely to God. I don't believe if I were to lie down, and thechurch should stop, that it would be paid. But I am sure that if wework together with God, He will never fail to do as He promises, andHe won't ask us to do the impossible. I tell you, friends, I feelsure that the $5, 000 will be paid next Wednesday, and I feel sure the$15, 000 will be paid when it is due. "

It may be interesting to know that the $5, 000 was paid; and when the$15, 000 was due in December, the money was in the treasury all readyfor it. 

From half after six on, there are the meetings of the variousChristian Endeavor Societies in the Lower Temple. At half after seventhe evening services begin and an overflow meeting is held at the sametime in the Lower Temple for those who find it impossible to gainadmittance to the main auditorium. 

The preaching service is followed by a half-hour prayer meeting in theLower Temple in which both congregations join, taxing its capacityto the utmost. It is a half hour that flies, a half hour full ofinspiration and soul communion with the "Spirit that moved on thewaters, " a fitting crown to a day devoted to His service. 

After the solemn benediction is pronounced, a half hour more of goodfellowship follows. The pastor meets strangers, shakes hands withmembers, makes a special effort to hold a few words of personalconversation with those who have risen for prayer. Friends andacquaintances greet each other, and the home life of the church comesto the surface. The hand of the clock creeps to eleven, sometimespast, before the last member reluctantly leaves. 

Baptism is a very frequent part of the Sunday services at The Temple, usually taking place in the morning. It is a beautiful, solemnordinance. The baptistry is a long, narrow pool, arranged to resemblea running stream. Years ago, when Dr. Conwell was in Palestine, he wasmuch impressed with the beauty of the river Jordan at the place whereJesus was baptized. Always a lover of the beautiful in nature, thepicture long remained in his memory, especially the leaves andblossoms that drifted on the stream. When The Temple was planned hethought of it and determined to give the baptismal pool as much of thebeauty of nature as possible. 

It is fifteen feet wide, sixty feet long, and during the hour of thesolemn ordinance, the brook is running constantly. The sides of thepool, the pulpit and platform, summer or winter, are banked withflowers, palms, moss and vines. On the surface of the water floatblossoms, while at the back, banked with mosses and flowers, splashesand sparkles a little waterfall. Over all falls the soft radiance ofan illuminated cross. It is a beautiful scene, one that never fadesfrom the memory of the man or woman who is "buried with Christ bybaptism into death, " to be raised again in the likeness of Hisresurrection. The candidates enter at the right and pass out atthe left, the pastor pressing into the hands of each, some of thebeautiful blossoms that float on the water. During the whole servicethe organ plays softly, the choir occasionally singing some favoritehymn. 

When the number of candidates is large, being on occasion as high asone hundred and seventy-seven adults, the associate pastor assists. Itis no unusual thing to see members of a family coming together tomake this public profession of their faith. Husband and wife, in manycases; husband, wife and children in many others; a grandmother andtwo grandchildren on one occasion, and on yet another, a venerablegray-haired nurse came with four of the family in which she had servedfor many years, and the five entered the baptistry together. 

"Among the converts, " says one who witnessed a baptismal service, "there were aged persons with their silvered hair. There were stalwartmen, fitted to bear burdens in the church for many years to come. There were young men and maidens to grow into strong men and womenof the future church. There were little children sweet in theirsimplicity and pure love of the Savior, little children who werecarried in the arms of those who assisted, and whom Dr. Conwelltenderly held in his arms as he buried them with Christ. "

Another solemn service of the church is the dedication of infants. Anyparents who wish, may bring their child and reverently dedicate it toGod, solemnly promising to do all within their power to train it andteach it to lead a Christian life and to make a public profession offaith when it has arrived at the years of discretion. The servicereads:

QUESTION. --Do you now come to the Lord's house to present your child(children) to the Lord? ANSWER. --We do. 

QUES. --Will you promise before the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you will, so far as in you lieth, teach this child the HolyScriptures, and bring him (her) up in the nurture and admonition ofthe Lord? Will you train his (her) mind to respect the services of theLord's House, and to live in compliance with the teachings and exampleof our Lord? When he reaches the years of understanding, will you showhim the necessity of repentance, explain to him the way of salvation, and urge upon him the necessity of conversion, Baptism, and union withthe visible Church of Christ? ANS. --We will. 

QUES. --By what name do you purpose to register him (her or them) atthis time? ANS. --

 * * * * *

_Beloved_: These parents have come to the house of God at this time topresent this child (these children) before the Lord in imitation ofthe presentation of the infant Jesus in the Temple as recorded by theEvangelist Luke, saying, "When the days of her [Mary's] purificationaccording to the law of Moses were accomplished, they brought himto Jerusalem to present him to the Lord and to offer a sacrificeaccording to that which is said in the law of the Lord, a pair ofturtle doves or two young pigeons. " These parents have learned fromthe Lord Jesus himself that he desires that all the children shouldcome unto him, and that he was pleased when the little childrenwere brought unto him that he might put his hands on them and pray. Therefore, in obedience to the scriptures, these parents are here topresent this child unto the Lord Jesus in spirit, that he may take himup in his arms, place his spiritual hands on him and bless him. 

We will turn, therefore, to the Holy Scriptures for direction, as theyare our only rule of faith and practice, and ascertain the wishes andcommandments of the Lord in this matter. 

_I Sam. I, 26, 27, 28_:

And Hannah said, O my Lord, as thy soul liveth, my Lord, I am thewoman that stood by thee here, praying unto the Lord. 

For this child I prayed; and the Lord hath given me my petition whichI asked of him;

Therefore also I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he liveth heshall be lent to the Lord. And he worshipped the Lord there. 

 * * * * *

_Mark X, 13, 14, 15_:

And they brought young children to him, that he should touch them; andhis disciples rebuked those that brought them. 

But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; forof such is the kingdom of God. 

Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of Godas a little child, he shall not enter therein. 

And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessedthem. 

 * * * * *

_Luke XVIII, 15, 16, 17_:

And they brought young children to him, that he should touch them; butwhen his disciples saw it, they rebuked them. 

But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children tocome unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God. 

Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of Godas a little child shall in no wise enter therein. 

 * * * * *

_Matt. XVIII, 2-6, 14_:

And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst ofthem. 

And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become aslittle children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. 

Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, thesame is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 

And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me. 

But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. 

Even so it is not the will of your father which is in heaven, that oneof these little ones should perish. 

Therefore, believing it is wise and that it is a sacred duty todedicate our precious little ones to God in this solemn manner;believing that all the dear children are especially loved by Christ;and that when taken from this world before active, intentionalparticipation in sin, they are saved by His merciful grace; andbelieving that Christ by His example, and the apostles by their directteaching, reserve the sacred ordinance of baptism for repentantbelievers, we will now unitedly ask the Lord to accept theconsecration of this child (children), and to take him in Hisspiritual arms and bless him. 

PRAYER. 

HYMN. 

BENEDICTION. 

 * * * * *

The pastor's reception to the children Thanksgiving afternoon is aservice the youngsters await from one year to another. Each child issupposed to bring some article to be given to Samaritan Hospital. Oneyear each child brought a potato, which in the aggregate amounted toseveral barrels. A writer in the "Temple Magazine, " describing one ofthese services, says:

"The children came from all directions, of all sizes and in allconditions. One lad marched up the aisle to a front seat, and hisgarments fluttered, flag-like, at many points as he went; others wereevidently rich men's darlings, but all were happy, and their brighteyes were fixed on the curtained platform, rather than on each other. They came until four or five thousand of them had arrived, fillingevery nook and corner of the Upper Temple. "

"Then Dr. Conwell came in, made them all feel at home--they alreadywere happy--and music, songs and entertainment followed for an houror more. At the close he shook hands with every happy youngster whosought him--and few failed to do it--gave each a cheery word andhearty handclasp, and then the little ones scattered, swarming alongthe wide pavements of Broad Street till the Thanksgiving promenaderswondered what had broken loose and whence the swarms of merry childrencame. "

Sunrise services are held Easter and Christmas mornings at seveno'clock. These beautiful days are ushered in by a solemn prayermeeting, spiritual, uplifting, which seems to attune the day to themusic of heavenly things, and to send an inspiration into it whichglorifies every moment. 

Another service very dear to the members of Grace Baptist Church iswatch meeting. The services begin at eight o'clock New Year's Evewith a prayer meeting which continues until about half after nine. Anintermission follows and usually a committee of young people servelight refreshments for those who want them. At eleven o'clock thewatch meeting begins. It is a deeply spiritual meeting, opened by thepastor with an earnest prayer for guidance in the year to come, forrenewed consecration to the Master's service, for a better and higherChristian life both as individuals and a church. Hymns follow and abrief, fervid talk on the year coming and its opportunities, of therecord each will write on the clean white page in the book of lifeto be turned so soon. As midnight approaches, every church member isasked to signify his re-dedication to God and His service by standing. Then the solemn question is put to others present if they do not wantto give themselves to God, not only for the coming year, but for allyears. As twelve o'clock strikes, all bow in silent prayer while theorgan, under the pastor's touch, softly breathes a sacred melody. 

A few minutes later the meeting adjourns, "Happy New Years" areexchanged, and the church orchestra on the iron balcony over the greathalf rose window on Broad Street breaks into music. 

Sometimes an audience of a thousand people gather on the street tolisten to this musical sermon, preached at the parting of the ways, aeulogy and a prophecy. A writer in the "Philadelphia Press" relatesthe following incident in connection with a watch meeting service:

"For the last half hour of the old and the first half hour of the newyear the band played sacred melodies to the delight of not less thana thousand people assembled on the street. Diagonally across BroadStreet and a short distance below the church is the residence of thelate James E. Cooper, P. T. Barnum's former partner, the millionairecircus proprietor. He had been ailing for months and on this night helay dying. 

"Although not a member he had always taken a personal interest inGrace Church, and one of his last acts was the gift of $1, 000 to thebuilding fund. On this night, the first on which The Temple balconyhad been used for its specially designed purpose, among the last ofearthly sounds that were borne to the ears of the dying man was themusic of 'Coronation' and 'Old Hundred, '--hymns that he had learned inchildhood. The watch meeting closed and from a scene of thanksgivingand congratulation Rev. Mr. Conwell hurried to the house of mourning, where he remained at the bedside of the stricken husband and fatheruntil the morning light of earth came to the living and the morning ofeternity to the dying. "

Sacred music on the balcony at midnight also ushers in Christmasand Easter. "On the street, long before the hour, the crowds gatherwaiting in reverent silence for the opening of the service, " writesBurdette, in "Temple and Templars. " "The inspiring strains of 'theEnglish Te Deum, ' 'Coronation, ' rise on the starlit night, thrillingevery soul and suggesting in its triumphant measures, the lines ofPerronet's immortal hymn made sacred by a thousand associations--'Allhail the power of Jesus' Name. '" "This greeting of the Resurrection, as it floats out over Monument Cemetery just opposite, where sleepso many thousands, does seem like an assurance sent anew from above, cheering those who sleep in Jesus, telling them that as their Lordand King had risen, and now lives again, so shall they live also. Men looked at the graves of them that slept, listened to the song oftriumph that was making the midnight glorious, remembered the risenChrist who was the theme of the song, thought of that other midnight, the riven tomb, the broken power of Death a conquered conqueror, and seemed to hear the Victor's proclamation as the apostle of theApocalypse heard it, pealing like a trumpet voice over all the earth, 'I am the first and the last: I am He that liveth and was dead; andbehold, I am alive forevermore; Amen; and have the keys of hell anddeath!'

"The music continues, the band playing 'The Gloria, ' 'The Heavens areTelling, ' 'The Palms'; now and then the listeners join in singing asthe airs are more familiar, and 'What a Friend we Have In Jesus, ''Whiter than Snow, ' 'Just as I Am, ' and other hymns unite many of theaudience on the crowded streets about The Temple in a volunteer choir, and when the doxology, 'Praise God from whom all blessings flow, 'closes the service, hundreds of voices swell the volume of melody thatgreets the Easter morning. "

CHAPTER XXVII

A TYPICAL PRAYER MEETING. 

The Prayer Meeting Hall. How the Meeting is Conducted. The Giving ofFavorite Bible Verses. Requests for Prayer. The Lookout Committee. 

The prayer meetings of Grace Baptist Church are characterized by acheery, homelike atmosphere that appeals forcibly and at once to anyone who may chance to enter, inclining him to stay and enjoy theservice, be he the utmost stranger. 

But underneath this and soon felt, is the deep spiritual significanceof the meeting, which lays hold on men's hearts, inspiring, uplifting, sending them home with a sense of having "walked with God" for alittle while. 

The large prayer meeting hall is usually crowded, the attendanceincluding not only members of the church but hundreds who are notmembers of any church. It is no unusual sight to see all the variousrooms of the Lower Temple thrown into one by the raising of thesashes, and this vast floor packed as densely as possible, while afringe of standers lines the edges. People will come to these prayermeetings though they cannot see the platform, though they must losemuch of what is said. But the spirit of the meeting flows into theirhearts and minds, sending them home happier, and with a strengtheneddetermination to live a more righteous life. 

Frequently Dr. Conwell arrives ten or fifteen minutes before the timefor the service to begin. As he walks to the platform, he stops andchats with this one, shakes hands with another, nods to many in theaudience. At once all stiffness and formalism vanish. It is a home, agathering of brothers and sisters. It is the meeting together of twoor three in His name, as in the old apostolic days, though these twoor three are now counted by the hundreds. 

When Dr. Conwell thus arrives early, the time is passed in singing. Often he utilizes these few minutes to learn new hymns. So that whenthe real prayer meeting is in progress, there will be no blunderingthrough new tunes or weak-kneed renditions of them. The singing, Dr. Conwell wants done with the spirit. He will not sing a verse if theheart and mind cannot endorse it. After singing several hymns in thisearnest, prayerful fashion, every one present is fully in tune for theservices to follow. Prayer meeting opens with a short, earnest prayer. Then a hymn. It is Dr. Conwell's practice to have any one call out thenumber of a hymn he would like sung. And it is no unusual thing tohear a perfect chorus of numbers after Dr. Conwell's "What shall wesing?"

A chapter from the Bible is read and a short talk on it given. ThenDr. Conwell says, "The meeting now is in your hands, " and sits down asif he had nothing more to do with it. But that subtle leadership whichleads without seeming to do so, is there ready to guide and direct. He never allows the meeting to grow dull--though it seldom exhibits atendency to do so. If no one is inclined to speak, hymns are sung. Aninteresting feature, and one that is tremendously helpful in leadingchurch members to take part in the prayer meeting, is the givingof Bible verses. It is a frequent feature of Grace Church prayermeetings. "Let us have verses of Scripture, " or "Each one give hisfavorite text, " Dr. Conwell announces. Immediately from all parts ofthe large room come responses. Some rise to give them, others recitethem sitting. Hundreds are given some evenings in a short space oftime, sometimes the speakers giving a bit of personal experienceconnected with the verse. 

The prayer meetings are always full of singing, often of silentprayer; and never does one end without a solemn invitation to thoseseeking God and wishing the prayers of the church, to signify it byrising. While the request is made, the audience is asked to bow insilent prayer that strength may be given those who want God's helpto make it known. In the solemn hush, one after another rises to hisfeet, often as many as fifty making this silent appeal for strength tolead a better life. Immediately Dr. Conwell leads into an eloquent, heartfelt prayer that those seeking the way may find it, that thepeace that passeth understanding may come into their hearts and lives. 

But Dr. Conwell doesn't let the matter rest here. A committee ofchurch members already appointed for just such work, is posted likesentinels about the prayer meeting room, ready to extend practicalhelp to those who have asked for the prayers of the church. Afterthe services are over, each one who has risen is sought out, by somemember of this committee, talked with in a friendly, sympathetic way, and his name and address taken. These are given to Dr. Conwell If timepermits, he writes to many of them. All of them he makes the subjectof personal prayer. 

Frequently, before asking those to rise who wish the prayers of thechurch, Dr. Conwell asks if any one wishes to request prayers forothers. The response to this is always large. A member of the staffof "The Temple Magazine" made a note at one prayer meeting of theserequests and published it in the magazine. Three requests were madefor husbands, eight for sons, one for a daughter, three for children, ten for brothers, two for sisters, two for fathers, one for a cousin, one for a brother-in-law, four for friends, eleven for Sunday Schoolscholars, one for a Sunday School class, four for sick persons, twofor scoffers, twenty-one for sinners, four for wanderers, five forpersons addicted to drink, three for mission schools, five forchurches--one that was divided, another deeply in debt, another fora sick pastor and the other two seeking a higher development ingodliness. 

As many of these requests come from church members, both pastor andpeople pay especial attention to them and practically, as well asprayerfully, try to reach those for whom prayers are asked. In manycases distinct answers to these prayers are secured, so evident thatnone could mistake them. At an after-service on Sunday evening amother asked prayers for a wayward son in Chicago. Dr. Conwell andsome of the deacons led the church in prayer for the boy, verydefinitely and in faith. At that same hour, as the young man afterwardrelated, he was passing a church in Chicago, and felt strangelyimpressed to enter and give his heart to Christ. It was something hehad no intention of doing when he left his hotel a few minutes before. But he went in, joined in the meeting, asked for forgiveness of hissins and the prayers of the church to help him lead a better life, and accepted Christ as his personal Savior. In the joy of his newexperience, he wrote his mother immediately. 

At another prayer meeting, Dr. Conwell read a letter from a gentlemanrequesting the prayers of the church for his little boy whom thedoctors had given up to die. He stated in the letter that if God wouldspare his child in answer to prayer, he would go anywhere and doanything the Lord might direct. After reading the letter, Dr. Conwellled earnestly in prayer, beseeching that the child's life might besaved since it meant much for the cause of Christ on earth. Severalmembers of the church made fervent prayers for the child, and at theclose of the meeting, many expressed themselves as being confidentthat their prayers would be answered. At that same hour, the diseaseturned. The child has grown to be a young man, and with his father isa member of Grace Church. 

Such direct, unmistakable answers to prayer strengthen faith, giveconfidence to ask for prayers for loved ones, and make it a veryearnest, solemn part of the prayer meeting service. Thus working andpraying, praying and working, the church marches forward. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE TEMPLE COLLEGE

The Night Temple College Was Born. Its Simple Beginning and RapidGrowth. Building the College. How the Money was Raised. The Branchesit Teaches. Instances of Its Helpfulness. Planning for greater Things. 

In a letter written to a member of his family, from which we quote thefollowing, Dr. Conwell tells how the idea of Temple College was bornin his mind one wintry night. 

"A woman, ragged, with an old shawl over her head, met me in an alleyin Philadelphia late one night. She saw the basket on my arm, andlooked in my face wistfully, as a dog looks up beside the dinnertable. She was hungry, and was coming in empty. I shook my head, andwith a peculiarly sad glance she turned down the dark passage. Ihad found several families hungry, and yet I felt like a hypocrite, standing there with an empty basket, and a woman, perhaps a mother, sopale for lack of decent food. 

"On the corner was a church, stately and architecturally beautiful byday, but after midnight it looked like a glowering ogre, and looked solike Newgate Prison, in London, that I felt its chilly shadow. Halfa million cost the cemented pile, and under its side arch lay twonewsboys or boot-blacks asleep on the step. 

"What is the use? We cannot feed these people. Give all you have, andan army of the poor will still have nothing; and those to whom you dogive bread and clothes to-day will be starving and naked to-morrow. If you care for the few, the many will curse you for your partiality. While I stood meditating, the police patrol drove along the street, and I could see by the corner street lamp that there were two women, one little girl and a drunken old man in the conveyance, going tojail! I could do nothing for them. 

"At my door I found a man dressed in costly fashion, who had waited forme outside, as he had been told that I would come soon, and the familyhad retired. He said his dying father had sent for me. So I left thebasket in a side yard and went with the messenger. The house was amansion on Spring Garden Street. The house was inelegantly overloadedwith luxurious furniture, money wasted by some inartistic purchasers. The paintings were rare and rich. The owners were shoddy. The familyof seven or eight gathered by the bedside when I prayed for the dyingold man. They were grief-stricken and begged me to stay until his souldeparted. It was daylight before I left the bedside, and as the dyingstill showed that the soul was delaying his journey, I went into thespacious, handsome library. Seeing a rare book in costly binding amongthe volumes on a lower shelf, I opened the door and took it out Myhands were black with dust. I glanced then along the rows and rows ofvaluable books, and noticed the dust of months or years. The familywere not students or readers. One son was in the Albany Penitentiary;another a fugitive in Canada. At the funeral, afterwards, the wifeand daughter from Newport were present, and their tears made furrowsthrough the paint. Those rich people were strangely poor, and a bookon a side table on the 'Abolition of Poverty' seemed to be in theright place. 

"That night was conceived the Temple College idea. It was no newtruth, no original invention, but merely a simpler combination of oldideas. There was but one general remedy for all these ills of poor andrich, and that could only be found in a more useful education. Povertyseemed to me to be wholly that of the mind. Want of food, or clothing, or home, or friends, or morals, or religion, seemed to be the lack ofthe right instruction and proper discipline. The truly wise man neednot lack the necessities of life, the wisely educated man or womanwill get out of the dirty alley and will not get drunk or go tojail. It seemed to me then that the only great charity was in givinginstruction. 

"The first class to be considered was the destitute poor. Not one in athousand of those living in rags on crusts would remain in poverty ifhe had education enough of the right kind to earn a better living bymaking himself more useful. He is poor because he does not know anybetter. Knowledge is both wealth and power. 

"The next class who stand in need of the assistance love wishes togive is the great mass of industrious people of all grades, who areearning something, who are not cold or hungry, but who should earnmore in order to secure the greater necessities of life in order to behappy. They could be so much more useful if they knew how. To learnhow to do more work in the same time, or how to do much better work, is the only true road to riches which the owner can enjoy. 

[Illustration: THE SAMARITAN HOSPITAL Showing the houses in which itwas originally located, and part of the new building]

"To help a man to help himself is the wisest effort of human love. Tohave wealth and to have honestly earned it all, by labor, skill orwisdom, is an object of ambition worthy of the highest and best. Hence, to do the most good to the great classes, rich or poor, we mustlabor industriously. The lover of his kind must furnish them with themeans of gaining knowledge while they work. 

"Then there was a third class of mankind, starving, with their tablesbreaking with luscious foods, cold in warehouses of ready-madeclothing of the most costly fabrics; seeing not in the moon-light, andrestless to distraction on beds of eiderdown. They do not know theuse or value of things. They are harassed with plenty they cannotappropriate. They are doubly poor. They need education. The libraryis a care, an expense and a disgrace to the owner who cannot read. Togive education to those in the possession of property which they mightuse for the help of humanity and which they might enjoy, is as clear aduty and charity as it is to help the beggar. And, indeed, indirectlythe education of the unwise wealthy to become useful may be the mostpractical way of raising the poor. There is a need for every dollar ofthe nation's property, and it should be invested by men whose mindsand hearts have been trained to see the human need and to love tosatisfy it. 

"The thought that in education of the best quality was to be found theremedy for hunger, loneliness, crime and weakness was most clearlyemphasized to my mind by the coming of two young men who had felt theneed from the under side. They had received but little instruction;they were over twenty years of age, and they wished to enter theministry. Was there any way open for a poor, industrious laborer toget the highest education while he supported his mother, sister andhimself? I urged them to try it for the good of many who wouldfollow them if they made it a clear success. I was elated almost touncontrollable enthusiasm the night they came to my study to begintheir course. They brought five with them, and all proved themselvesnoble men. One is not, for God took him. But the others are mouldingand inspiring their world. "

Thus was conceived the idea of the institution that is now educatingannually three thousand men and women. The need for it has beenplainly proven. Rev. Forest Dager, at one time Dean of Temple College, said in regard to the people who in later life crave opportunities forstudy:

"That the Temple College idea of educating working men and workingwomen, at an expense just sufficient to give them an appreciation ofthe work of the Institution, covers a wide and long-neglected fieldof educational effort, is at once apparent to a thoughtful mind. Remembering that out of a total enrollment in the schools of our landof all grades, public and private, of 14, 512, 778 pupils, 96-1/2 percent are reported as receiving elementary instruction only; that notmore than 35 in 1, 000 attend school after they are fourteen years ofage; that 25 of these drop out during the next four years of theirlife; that less than 10 in 1, 000 pass on to enjoy the superiorinstruction of a college or some equivalent grade of work, we beginto see the unlimited field before an Institution like this. Thousandsupon thousands of those who have left school quite early in life, either because they did not appreciate the advantages of a liberaleducation, or because the stress of circumstances compelled them toassist in the maintenance of home, awake a few years later to therealization that a good education is more than one-half the strugglefor existence and position. Their time through the day is fullyoccupied; their evenings are free. At once they turn to the eveningcollege, and grasping the opportunities for instruction, convert thosehours which to many are the pathway to vice and ruin, into steppingstones to a higher and more useful career . . . An illustration of thewide-reaching influence of the College work is the significant factthat during one year there were personally known to the president, no less than ninety-three persons pursuing their studies in variousuniversities of our country, who received their first impulses towarda higher education and a wider usefulness in Temple College. "

In 1893, in an address on the Institutional church, delivered beforethe Baptist Ministers' Conference in Philadelphia, Dr. Conwell said:

"At the present time there are in this city hundreds of thousands--tospeak conservatively, (I should say at least five hundred thousandpeople) who have not the education they certainly wish they hadobtained before leaving school. There are at least one hundredthousand people in this city willing to sacrifice their evenings andsome of their sleep to get an education, if they can get it withoutthe humiliation of being put into classes with boys and girls sixyears old. They are in every city. There is a large class of youngpeople who have reached that age where they find they have made amistake in not getting a better education. If they could obtain onenow, in a proper way, they would. The university does not furnish suchan opportunity. The public school does not. 

"The churches must institute schools for those whom the public doesnot educate, and must educate them along the lines they cannot reachin the public schools. 

"We are not to withdraw our support from, nor to antagonize, thepublic schools; they are the foundations of liberty in the nation. Butthe public schools do not teach many things which young men and youngwomen need. I believe every church should institute classes for theeducation of such people, and I believe the Institutional church willrequire it. I believe every evening in the week should be given tosome particular kind of intellectual training along some educationalline; that this training should begin with the more evident needs ofthe young people in each congregation, and then be adjusted as thematter grows, to the wants of each. "

So, because one poor boy struggled so bitterly for an education, because a man, keen-eyed, saw others' needs, reading the signs by thelight of his own bitter experience, a great College for busy men andwomen has grown, to give them freely the education which is very breadand meat to their minds. 

Most people use for their own benefit the lessons they have learned inthe hard school of experience. They have paid for them dearly. Theyendeavor to get out of them what profit they can. Not so Dr. Conwell. He uses his dearly bought experiences for the good of others, turningthe bitterness which he endured, into sweetness for their refreshment. 

The Temple College was founded, as was stated in its first catalogue, for the purpose "of opening to the burdened and circumscribed manuallaborer, the doors through which he may, if he will, reach the fieldsof profitable and influential professional life. 

"Of enabling the working man, whose labor has been largely with hismuscles, to double his skill through the helpful suggestions of acultivated mind. 

"Of providing such instruction as shall be best adapted to the highereducation of those who are compelled to labor at their trades whileengaged in study, or who desire while studying to remain under theinfluence of their home or church. 

"Of awakening in the character of young laboring men and women astrong and determined ambition to be useful to their fellowmen. 

"Of cultivating such a taste for the higher and most useful branchesof learning as shall compel the students, after they have left thecollege, to continue to pursue the best and most practical branchesof learning to the very highest walks of mental and scientificachievement. "

A broad, humanitarian purpose it is, one that grew out of the heart ofa man who loved humanity, who believed in the practical application ofthe teachings of Christ, who knew a cause would succeed if it filled aneed. 

Dr. Conwell's own experience, his observations of life had toldhim that this great need existed, but it was brought home to himpractically in 1884, when these two young men of whom he speaks inthe letter quoted came to him and said they wanted to study for theministry but had no money. His mind leaped the years to those boyhooddays when he longed for an education but had no money. He fixed anevening and told them he would teach them himself. When the nightcame, the two had become seven. The third evening, the seven had grownto forty. It was in the days when pastor and people were working hardfor their new church and his hands were full. But he did not shirkthis new task that came to him. Forty people eager to study, anxiousto broaden their mental vision, to make their lives more useful, couldnot be disappointed, most assuredly not by a man who had known thishunger of the mind. Teachers were secured who gave their servicesfree, the lower parts of the church where they were then worshippingat Berks and Mervine streets were used as class rooms and the workwent forward with vigor. 

The first catalogue was issued in 1887, and the institution charteredin 1888, at which time there were five hundred and ninety students. The College overflowed the basement of the church into two adjoininghouses. When The Temple was completed the College occupied the wholebuilding. When that was filled it moved into two large houses on ParkAvenue. Still growing, it rented two large halls. 

The news that The Temple College had enlarged quarters in these hallsbrought such a flood of students that almost from the start applicantswere turned away. Nothing was to be done but to build. It was aserious problem. The church itself had but just been completed and aheavy debt of $250, 000 hung over it. To add the cost of a college tothis burden of debt required faith of the highest order, work of thehardest. But God had shown them their work and they could not shirk it. 

"For seven years I have felt a firm conviction that the great work, the special duty of our church, is to establish the College, " said Dr. Conwell, in speaking of the matter to his congregation. "We are nowface to face with it. How distinctly we have been led of God to thispoint! Never before in the history of this nation have a people hadcommitted to them a movement more important for the welfare of mankindthan that which is now committed to your trust in connection with thepermanent establishment of The Temple College. We step now over thebrink. Our feet are already in the water, and God says, 'Go on, itshall be dryshod for you yet'; and I say that the success of thisinstitution means others like it in every town of five thousandinhabitants in the United States. "

"One thing we have demonstrated--those who work for a living have timeto study. Some splendid specimens of scholarship have beendeveloped in our work. And there are others, splendid geniuses, yetundiscovered, but The Temple College will bring them to the light, andthe world will be the richer for it. By the use of spare hours--hoursusually running to waste--great things can be done. The commendationof these successful students will do more for the college than anynumber of rich friends can do. It will make friends; it will bringmoney; it will win honor; it will secure success. "

An investment fund was created and once more the people made theirofferings. The same self-sacrificing spirit was evident as in thebuilding of the church. One boy brought to the pastor fifty cents, thefirst money he had ever earned; a woman sent to the treasury a goldring, the only gift she could make, which bore interest in thesuggestion that all who chose might offer similar gifts as did thewomen in the day of Moses. A business man hearing of this said, "If aday is appointed, I will on that day give to the College all the goldand silver that comes into my store for purchases. " Every organizationof Grace Church contributed time, work, money, and prayer to thebuilding of the College. Small wonder then that obligations were metand payments made promptly. 

One of the most successful methods by which money was raised forthe College was the "Penny Talent" effort in 1893. Burdette, in his"Temple and Templars" has made a most painstaking record of thevarious ways in which the talent was used. He says:

"Each worker was given a penny, no more. Four thousand were given outat one service. One man put his penny in a neat box, took it to hisoffice, and exhibited his 'talent' at a nickel a 'peep. ' He gained$1. 70 the first day of his 'show, ' A woman bought a 'job lot' ofmolasses with her penny, made it into molasses candy, sold it insquare inch cakes, after telling the customer her story; payments weregenerous and she netted $1. 80. Then the man who sold her the molassesreturned her penny. Another sister established a 'cooky' business, which grew rapidly. One boy kept his penny and went to work, earned 50cents, the first money he ever earned in his life. It was a big penny, but he was bubbling over with enthusiasm and in it all went; hebrought it straight to his pastor. One worker collected autographsand sold them. A boy sold toothpicks. One young man made silverbuttonhooks and a young lady sold them. A woman traded her penny upto a dollar, made aprons from that time on until she earned $10. Oneclass of seven girls in the Sunday-school united its capital and gavea supper at the Park and netted $50. The Young Men's Bible Classconstructed a model of the College building, which they exhibited. Thechildren gave a supper in the Lower Temple, which added $100 to theCollege fund. There came into the treasury $1. 00 'saved on carfares';'whitewashing a cellar' brought $3. Thrice, somebody walked fromGermantown to The Temple and back, saving 75 cents; a wife saved $20from household allowances. A little girl of seven years went into alively brokerage business with her penny, and took several 'flyers'that netted her handsome margins. Here is her report--

"'Sold the "talent penny" to Aunt Libby for seven cents; sold theseven cents to Mamma for 25 cents; sold the 25 cents to Papa for 50cents. Aunt Caddie, 10 cents; Uncle Gilman, 5 cents; Cousin Walter, 4cents; cash, 25 cents, --$1. 04 and the penny talent returned. '

"'Pinching the market-basket' sent in $2. 50; 'all the pennies andnickels received in four months, $12. 70'; 'walking instead of riding, $6. 50'; 'singing and making plaster plaques, $7. ' A dentist bought ofa fellow dentist one cent's worth of cement filling-material; this heused, giving his labor, and earned 50 cents; with this he bought 50cents' worth of better filling, part of which he used, again givinghis labor, and the College gained $3. 00. A boy sold his penny to aphysician for a dollar. The physician sold the 'talent penny' for 10cents, which he exchanged at the Mint for bright new pennies. These hetook to business friends and got a dollar apiece for them; added $5. 00of his own and turned in $15. 00. Donations of one cent each werereceived through Mr. William P. Harding, from Governor Tillman ofSouth Carolina, Governor McKinley of Ohio, Governor Russell ofMassachusetts. From Governor Fuller of Vermont--a rare old coppercent, 1782, coined by Vermont before she was admitted to the Union;the governors' letters were sold to the highest bidders. Everybody whoworked, everybody who traded with the penny, did something, and everypenny was blessed, so lovingly and so zealously was the trading done. It was the Master's talent which they were working with. All thelittle things that went into the treasury; lead pencils, tacks, $3. 00in one case and $5. 00 in another; 'beefs liver, $14. 00'--think ofthat! How tired the boarders must have grown of liver away out onBroad Street--stick pins, hairpins, and the common kind that you bendand lose; candy, pretzels, and cookies; 'old tin cans, ' wooden spoons, pies; one man sent $50. 00 as a gift because he said 'his penny hadbrought him luck'; another found 16 pennies, which good fortune heascribed to the penny in his pocket. 

"So in October the workers who had received their pennies in Aprilcame together to show what they had done. Four thousand pennies hadbeen given out; $6, 000 came directly from the returns, and indirectlyabout $8, 000 more. 

"The 'Feast of Tithes, ' held in December of the same year, was a greatfair, extending through seven week days. The displays of goods and therefreshment booths were in the Lower Temple, while fine concerts andother entertainments were given in the auditorium. The Feast of Tithesnetted $5, 500 for the College fund. "

Thus the work progressed. No one could give large amounts, but manygave a little, and stone by stone the building grew. In August, 1893, the corner stone of the College building was laid. Taking up thesilver trowel which had been used in laying the corner stone of TheTemple, in 1889, Dr. Conwell said:

"Friends, to-day we do something more than simply lay the corner stoneof a college building. We do an act here very simply that shows to theworld, and will go on testifying after we have gone to our long rest, that the church of Jesus Christ is not only an institution of theory, but an institution of practice. It will stand here upon this greatand broad street and say through the coming years to all passersby, 'Christianity means something for the good of humanity; Christianitymeans not only a belief in things that are good and pure andrighteous, but it also means an activity that shall bless those whoneed the assistance of others. ' It shall say to the rich man, 'Givethou of thy surplus to those who have not. ' It shall say to the poorman, 'Make thou the most of thy opportunities and thou shalt be theequal of the rich. '

"Now, in the name of the people who have given for this enterprise, in the name of the many Christians who have prayed, and who are nowsending up their prayers to heaven, I lay this corner stone. "

The work went on. In May, 1894, a great congregation thronged TheTemple to attend the dedication services of "Temple College, " for itwas in its new home; a handsome building, presenting with The Temple abeautiful stone front of two hundred feet on the broad avenue which itfaces. Robert E. Pattison, governor of Pennsylvania, presided, saying, in his introductory remarks, "Around this noble city many institutionshave arisen in the cause of education, but I doubt whether any of themwill possess a greater influence for good than Temple College. " BishopFoss, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, offered prayer. The oratorwas Honorable Charles Emory Smith, of Philadelphia, ex-ministerto Russia. Mr. James Johnson, the builder, gave the keys to thearchitect, Mr. Thomas P. Lonsdale, who delivered them to the pastor ofGrace Church and president of Temple College, remarking that "it waswell these keys should be in the hands of those who already held thekeys to the inner temple of knowledge. "

President Conwell, receiving the keys, said that, "by united effort, penny by penny, and dollar by dollar, every note had been paid, everyfinancial obligation promptly met. It is a demonstration of whatpeople can do when thoroughly in earnest in a great enterprise. "

Academies were also started in distant parts of the city for thebenefit of those who could not reach the college in time for classes. Unfortunately these academies were compelled to close on account oflack of funds. Many pitiful letters were received at the collegefrom those who were thus shut out of educational advantages. One inparticular, poorly spelled but breathing its bitter disappointment, said that the writer (a woman) was just beginning to hope she wouldget her head above water some day. But that now she must sink again. Alittle light had begun to glimmer for her through the blackness, butthat light had been taken away. She was going down again into thedepth of hopeless ignorance with no one to lend a helping hand--thetragedy of which Carlyle wrote when he penned "That there shouldbe one man die ignorant who is capable of knowledge, this I call atragedy. "

The College at first was entirely free, but as the attendanceincreased, it was found necessary to charge a nominal tuition fee inorder to keep out those who had no serious desire to study, but cameirregularly "just for the fun of the thing. " When it was decided tocharge five dollars a year for the privilege of attending the eveningclasses, the announcement was received with the unanimous approbationof the students who honestly wished to study, and who more than anyothers were hindered by the aimless element. 

Not only did the poor and those who were employed during the day come, but before long the sons and daughters of the well-to-do were knockingat the doors, not for admission to the evening classes but for daystudy. So the day department was opened. Not only has it provedmost successful in its work, but it has helped the College to meetexpenses. 

The curriculum of the College is broad. A child just able to walk canenter the kindergarten class in the day department and receive hisentire schooling under the one roof, graduating with a college degree, taking a special university course, or fitting himself for business. 

Four university courses are given--theology, law, medicine, pharmacy. The Medical and Theological Departments take students to theirgraduation and upon presentation of their diploma before the StateBoard they are admitted to the State Examination. The TheologicalCourse, of course, graduates a man the same as any other theologicalseminary. 

Post-graduate courses are also given. 

The college courses include--arts, science, elocution and oratory, business, music, civil engineering, physical education. The graduatesof the college course are admitted to the post-graduate courses ofPennsylvania, Yale, Princeton and Harvard on their diplomas. Studentspass from any year's work of the college course to the correspondingcourse of other Institutions. 

The preparatory courses are college preparatory, medical preparatory, scientific preparatory, law preparatory, an English course and abusiness preparatory course. Thus, if one is not ready to enter one ofthe higher courses, he can prepare here by night study for them. 

The Business Course includes a commercial course, shorthand course, secretarial course, conveyancing course, telegraphy course, advertisement writing and proofreading. 

There are normal courses for kindergarteners and elementary teachers, and in household science, physical training, music, millinery, dressmaking, elocution and oratory. 

Special courses are given in civil engineering, chemistry, elocutionand oratory, painting and drawing, sign writing, mechanical andarchitectural drawing, music, physical training, dressmaking, millinery, cooking, embroidery, and nursing, the last being given atthe Samaritan Hospital. 

All of these courses, excepting the Normal Kindergarten, can bestudied day or evening, as best suits the student. 

The kindergarten and model schools cover the work of the publicschools from the kindergarten to the highest grammar grades, fittingthe student to enter the first year of the preparatory department. These classes are held in the daytime only. 

The power to confer degrees was granted in 1891. The teaching forcehas been greatly enlarged until at present there are one hundredand thirty-five teachers and an average of more than three thousandregular students yearly. 

The number of students instructed at Temple College in proportion tomoney expended and buildings used is altogether out of proportionto any other college in America. Some idea of the breadth of studypresented at Temple College may be had from a comparison withHarvard. Harvard has more than five thousand students, four hundredinstructors, and presents five hundred courses of study. Its growthsince 1860 has been wonderful. In 1860, while one man might not havebeen able in four years to master all the subjects offered, he couldhave done so in six. It was estimated in 1899 that the coursesof study offered were so varied that sixty years would have beenrequired. It would take one student ninety-six years to take all thecourses presented by the Temple College. 

From the time of the opening of Temple College up to the closingexercises of 1905, its students have numbered 55, 656. If an answer isdesired to the question, "Is such an institution needed, " that numberanswers is most emphatically. That more than fifty thousand people, the majority of them wording men and women, will give their nightsafter a day of toil, to study, proves that the institution that givesthem the opportunity to study is sorely needed. 

The life story of men and women who have studied here and gone on tolives of usefulness would make interesting reading. One young girl wholived in the mill district of Kensington was earning $2. 50 a week, folding circulars, addressing envelopes and doing such work. Herparents were poor. She had the most meagre education, and the outlookfor her to earn more was dark. Some one advised her to go to TempleCollege at night and study bookkeeping. A few years after, herwell-wisher saw her one evening at the college, bright, happy, adifferent girl in both dress and deportment She had a position asbookkeeper at $10 a week and was going on now and taking othercourses. 

That is the ordinary story of the work Temple College does, multipliedin thousands of lives. Others are not so ordinary. One of the earlystudents was a poor man earning $6. 00 a week. To-day he is earning$6, 000 a year in a government position at Washington, his rise inlife due entirely to the opportunities of study offered him at TempleCollege. A lady who had been brought up in refined and culturedsociety was compelled to support herself, her husband and childthrough his complete physical breakdown. She took the normal coursein dressmaking and millinery, and has this year been appointed theDirector of the Domestic Science work in a large institution at a verygood salary, being able to keep herself and family in comfort. One ofthe present college students was a weaver without any education atall, getting not only his elementary education and his preparatoryeducation here, but will next year graduate from the collegedepartment. He has been entirely self-supporting in the meantime, andwill make a fine teacher of mathematics. He has been teaching extraclasses in the evening department of the College for several years. 

One of the students who entered the classes in 1886 was a poor boyof thirteen. For nineteen long years he has studied persistently atnight, passing from one grade to another until this summer (1905) hislong schooling was crowned with success and he was admitted to thebar. All these weary years he has worked hard during the day, forthere were others depending upon him, and at night despite hisphysical weariness, has faithfully pursued his studies. He deserveshis success and the greater success that will come to him, for such aman in those long years has stored away experiences that will make hima power. 

Another student in the early days of the college was a poor boy whohad no education whatever, having been compelled to help earn thefamily living as soon as he was able, his father being a drunkard. Forfifteen years he studied, passing from one grade to another until in1899, he had the great joy of being ordained to the ministry, six ofhis ministerial brethren gathering around him in the great Temple andlaying on his head the hands of ordination, feeling they were settingapart to the struggles and hardships of the Gospel ministry one whohad shown himself worthy of his exalted calling. 

One of the official stenographers connected with the Panama CanalCommission was a breaker boy who came to Philadelphia from the miningdistrict poor and ignorant, and studied in Temple College at night, working during the day to earn his living. 

Such records would fill a book. They prove better even than numbersthe worth of such an institution. If only one such man or woman islifted to a happier, more useful life, the work is worth while. 

Such an institution can do much for the purification of politics. Before the students are ever held high ideals of right living, ofhonesty, of purity. All the associations of the College are conduciveto clean character and high ideals. As the largest number of thestudents are men and women from active business life, they are keenlyalive to the questions of the day. They know the responsibility forhonest government rests with each voter, that to have clean politicsevery man and woman must individually do his share to uphold highstandards in political and social life, that only men whose charactersare above reproach should be elected to office. That the President oftheir college shares these views and knows also what a power lies intheir hands, is shown by the following letter:

"Fraternal Greetings: The near approach of an important election leadsme to suggest to you the following:

"First. There being now in this city over seven thousand voters whohave been students in the Temple College, you have by your votesand your influence, either by combination or as individuals, aconsiderable political power. You should use it for the good of yourcity, state, and nation. 

"Second. In city affairs I urge you to think first of the poor. Therich do not need your care. Vote only for such city candidates as willmost speedily secure for the more needy classes pure water, cleanstreets, cheaper homes, cheaper and more useful education, healthierenvironment, cheap and quick transportation, the development of thelabor-giving improvements, and the increase of sea-going and inlandcommerce. Select large-hearted, cool-headed men for city officers, regardless of national parties. 

"Third. Let no man or party purchase your patriotic birthright for afifty-cent tax bill or any other sum. 

"Fourth. In selecting your candidates for state offices remember theneeds of the people. Favor the granting to the submerged poor a morefavorable opportunity to help themselves. Move in the most reasonableand direct way toward the ultimate abolition of the sale ofintoxicating liquors as a beverage, and for the increase of hospitaland college privileges for the afflicted and the ignorant. 

"Fifth. In national politics, remember that both parties have ameasure of truth in their principles, and the need of the time isnoble, conscientious lovers of humanity, who will not be led by partyenthusiasm into any wild schemes in either direction which wouldresult in the destruction of business and the degradation of nationalhonor. Think independently, vote considerately, stand unflinchinglyagainst any measure that is wrong, and vigorously in favor of everymovement that is right. This is an opportunity to do a great, gooddeed. Quit you like men. With endearing affection, "RUSSELL H. CONWELL. "

Even now the press of students is so great the trustees are planninglarger things. The "Philadelphia Press, ' speaking of the new work tobe undertaken, said:

"A city university, with a capacity of seven thousand students, morethan are attending any other one seat of learning in the UnitedStates, is to be built in Philadelphia. It will be the university ofthe Temple College and will stand on the site of the old Broad StreetBaptist Church at the southeast corner of Broad and Brown Streets, and the lot adjoining the church property on the south side on BroadStreet. 

"The new structure will cost $225, 000, while the ground on which itwill be built is worth $165, 000, making the total value of the newinstitution $390, 000. 

"Rev. Russell H. Conwell, D. D. , pastor of the Grace Baptist Church, at Broad and Berks Streets, and President of Temple College, saidyesterday that the new university will be completed and ready foroccupancy by September, 1906. In the twenty years of its existenceTemple College has grown as have few educational institutions inAmerica, until now it has more than three thousand students enrolledyearly. 

"With the erection of the university building the institution willhave facilities for educating four thousand more students, or a totalof seven thousand. 

"Some idea of how the other great universities of the country comparewith regard to the number of students attending them with this newuniversity of Philadelphia is shown by the following table:

Name. Number of Students, Temple University 7, 000

Harvard 5, 393

Yale 2, 995

Pennsylvania 2, 692

Princeton 1, 373

"The Temple University building will be eight stories high, atleast that is the plan the trustees have in mind at present, but thestructure will be so built that a height of two stories may be addedat any time. It will have a frontage of 129 feet on Broad Street and140 feet on Brown Street. The corner property was deeded as a gift toTemple College by the Broad and Brown Streets Church and the Collegethen purchased the adjoining property on Broad Street. In appreciationof the gift the College has offered the use of the university chapel, which will be built in the building, to the Broad and Brown StreetsChurch congregation for a place of worship. 

"The university will be built of stone, and while not an elaboratestructure, it will be substantial and suitable in every respect andimposing in its very simplicity. 

"In addition to the university offices there will be a largegymnasium, a free dispensary, departments of medicine, theology, law, engineering, sciences, and, in fact, all the branches of learning thatare taught in any of the great universities. There will be a libraryand lecture room for every department, pathological and chemicallaboratories and a sufficient number of classrooms to precludecrowding of students for the next ten or fifteen years. 

"There are now one hundred and thirty-five instructors in TempleCollege, but when the university is opened this number will beincreased to three hundred. 

"The present college building, which adjoins the Baptist Temple, willcontinue to be used, but only for the normal classes and lower gradeof work. The building will be remodeled. The dwelling adjoining thecollege which has been occupied as the theological department will bevacated when the university is completed. 

"Dr. Conwell, the father of Temple College and who in years to comewill be spoken of as the father of Temple University, said yesterday:

"'It will be a university for busy people, the same as the college hasbeen a college for busy people. Our institution reaches and benefitsa class--in some respects the greatest class--of persons who wantto study and enlarge their education, but cannot attend the otheruniversities and colleges for financial reasons and because of theirbusiness. 

"'There's many a man and woman, young and middle-aged, who is notsatisfied with himself--he wants to go on farther, he wants to learnmore. But his daily work won't allow him to complete his educationbecause of the inconvenient hours of the classes and lectures inother colleges. And he comes to Temple, as there classes are heldpractically all day and for several hours at night. The terms of thecourse at Temple College are reasonable, and thus many young men orwomen may prepare themselves for higher and more remunerative work, whereas they would not feel that they could afford to pay the tuitionfee at some other institution. The Temple University will be similarto the London University, a city university for busy persons. '"

Thus Temple College grows because it is needed. And such aninstitution is needed in other cities as well as in Philadelphia. Thisis but the pioneer. It can have sister institutions wherever peoplewant to study and Christian hearts want to help. 

It grows also because in the heart of one man, its founder, is thebitter knowledge of how sorely such an institution is needed by thosewho want to study, and who himself works hand, heart and soul so thatit shall never fail those who need it. 

Says James M. Beck, the noted lawyer: "There have been very wealthymen who, out of the abundance of their resources, have foundedcolleges, but I can hardly recall a case where a man, without abundantmeans, by mere force of character and intellectual energy, has bothcreated and maintained an institution of this size and character, '"

Far back in the dim light of the centuries, Confucius wrote, "Giveinstruction unto those who cannot obtain it for themselves. " This isthe great and useful work the Temple College is doing and doing itnobly, a work that will count for untold good on future generations. 

CHAPTER XXIX

THE SAMARITAN HOSPITAL

Beginning in Two Rooms. Growth. Number of Beds. Management. TempleServices Heard by Telephone. Faith and Nationality of Those Cared For. 

His pastoral work among his church members and others of theneighborhood brought to Dr. Conwell's mind constantly the needs of thesick poor. Scarcely a week passed that some one did not come to himfor help for a loved one suffering from disease, but without means tosecure proper medical aid. Sick and poor--that is a condition whichsums up the height of human physical suffering--the body racked withpain, burning with fever, yet day and night battling on in misery, without medical aid, without nursing, without any of the comforts thatrelieve pain. Nor is the sick one the only sufferer. Those who lovehim endure the keenest mental anguish as they stand by helpless, unable to raise a finger for his relief because they are poor. Throughthe deep waters of both these experiences Dr. Conwell had himselfpassed. He knew the anguish of heart of seeing loved ones suffer, ofbeing unable to secure for them the nourishing food, the care neededto make them well. He knew the wretchedness of being sick and poor andof not knowing which way to turn for help, while quivering flesh andnerves called in torture for relief. His heart went out in burningsympathy to all such cases that came to his knowledge, and generouslyhe helped. But they were far too many for one man, big-hearted andopen-handed as he might be. More and more the need of a hospital inthat part of the city was impressed upon him. Accidents among hismembership were numerous, yet the nearest hospital was blocks andblocks away, a distance which meant precious minutes when with everymoment life was ebbing. 

He laid the matter before his church people. Down through thecenturies came ringing in their ears that command, "Heal the sick. "They knew it was Christ's work--"Unto Him were brought all sick peoplethat were taken with divers diseases and he healed them. "

So they decided to rent two rooms where the sick could be cared for, and later built a hospital for the poor, where without money andwithout price, the best medical aid, the tenderest nursing were at thecommand of those in need. 

"The Hospital was founded, " says Dr. Conwell, "and this propertypurchased in the hope that it would do Christ's work. Not simply toheal for the sake of professional experience, not simply to curedisease and repair broken bones, but to so do those charitable acts asto enforce the truth Jesus taught, that God 'would not that any shouldperish, but that all should come unto Him and live. ' Soul and body, both need the healing balm of Christianity. The Hospital modestlyand touchingly furnishes it to all classes, creeds, and ages whosesufferings cause them to cry out, 'Have mercy on me!'"

So far as buildings were concerned, it began in a small way, thoughits spirit of kindness and Christian charity was large. After one yearin rented rooms, a house was purchased on North Broad Street, nearOntario Street, and fitted up as a hospital with wards, operating roomand dispensary. It was situated just where a network of railroadsfocuses and near a number of large factories and machine shops, whereaccidents were occurring constantly. Almost immediately its wards werefilled. The name "Samaritan Hospital" was given as typical of its workand spirit, its projectors and supporters laying down their money andagreeing to pay whatever might be needed, as well as giving of theirpersonal care and attention to the sufferer. But though Dr. Conwell'sheart is big, his head is practical. He does not believe inindiscriminate charity. 

"Charity is composed of sympathy and self-sacrifice. There is nocharity without a union of these two, " he said, in an address yearsago at Music Hall, Boston. "To make a gift become a charity therecipient must feel that it is given out of sympathy; that thedonor has made a sacrifice to give it; that it is intended only asassistance and not as a permanent support, unless the needy one hehelpless; and that it is not given as his right. To accomplish thisend desired by charitable hearts demands an acquaintance with thepersons to be assisted or a study of them, and a great degree ofcaution and patience. It is not only unnecessary, but a positive wrongto give to itinerant beggars. There is no such thing as charity abouta so-called state charity. It is statesmanship to rid the community ofnuisances, to feed the poor and prevent stealing and robbery, but itshould not be called 'a charity. ' The paupers take their provision astheir right, feel no gratitude, acquire no ambition, no industry, noculture. The state almshouse educates the brain and chills the heart. It fastens a stigma on the child to hinder and curse it for life. Anyinstitution supported otherwise than by voluntary contribution, orin the hands of paid public officials, can never have the spirit ofcharity nor be correctly called a charity. Boston's public charitableinstitutions, so called, are not charities at all; the motive is notsympathy, but necessity. The money for the support of paupers is notpaid with benevolent intentions by the tax-payers, nor do the inmatesof almshouses so receive it. I have been engaged in gatheringstatistics, and have found sixty-three per cent of all persons whoapplied for assistance at the various institutions were impostors, while many were swindlers and professional burglars. "

The sick poor are never turned away from Samaritan Hospital, but thosewho are able to pay are requested to do so. Dr. Conwell believesit would be a wrong to treat such people free, an injustice tophysicians, as well as an encouragement of a wrong spirit inthemselves. The hospital has a number of private rooms in whichpatients are received for pay. Many have been furnished by members ofGrace Baptist Church in memory of some loved one "gone before, " or bySunday School classes or church organizations. 

It may have been the fact that it started in an ordinary house thatgave the Hospital its cheery, homelike atmosphere. It may have beenthe spirit of the workers. But its homelike air is noticeable. Whilerules are strictly enforced, as they must be, there is a feeling ofpersonal interest in each patient that makes the sick feel that she issomething more than a "case" or a "number. "

"The lovely Christ spirit, " says Dr. Conwell, "which inclines men andwomen to care for their unfortunate fellowmen, is especially beautifulwhen in addition to the healing of wounds and disease, the afflictedsufferers are welcomed to such a home as the Samaritan Hospital hasbecome. All such kind deeds become doubly sweet when done in the nameof Christ, because they carry with them sympathy for those in pain, love for the loveless, a home for the homeless, friendship for thefriendless, and a divine solace, which are often more than surgicalskill or medical science. Such an institution the Samaritan Hospitalis ever to be. It began in weakness and inexperience, but withChristian devotion and affection, its founders and supporters haveconquered innumerable difficulties, and can now say unreservedly thatthey have a hospital with all the conveniences and all the influencesof a Christian home. "

The hospital was opened February 1, 1892. It did not take long toprove the need of the work. Before the year was out it was so crowdedthat an addition had to be built, and now magnificent buildings standadjoining the original "house" as a monument to the untiring workand zeal of Grace Church members and their friends. It is now anindependent corporation. 

The hospital is fitted with all modern appliances for caring for thesick. It has a hundred and seventy beds, and a large and competentstaff of physicians numbering many of the best in the city. There isalso a training school for nurses, the original hospital buildingbeing now fitted up and furnished as a nurses' home. More than fivethousand different cases are ministered to during the year in the bedsand dispensary. The annual expense of running the hospital is morethan forty thousand dollars, the value of the property more than threehundred thousand dollars. 

In addition to the customary weekly visiting days, visitors areallowed on one evening during the week and on Sunday afternoons. Theserather unusual visiting hours are an innovation of Dr. Conwell's forthe benefit of busy workers who cannot visit their sick friends orrelatives on week days. 

A novel feature of the hospital and one which brings great pleasure tothe patients, is the telephone service connecting it with The Temple, whereby those who are able, can hear the preaching of the pastorSunday morning and evening at the big church farther down BroadStreet. 

One of the most efficient aids in the hospital's growth has beenthe Board of Lady Managers. When the hospital was opened in 1892, acommittee of six ladies was appointed by Mr. Conwell to take charge ofthe housekeeping affairs, and from this committee has grown this Boardwhich has done so much to aid the hospital, both by raising money andlooking after its household affairs. 

This committee had entire charge of the house department, visiting itweekly, inspecting the house, and making suggestions to the trusteesfor improving the work in that department. 

The Board is divided into Finance, Visiting, Flower, Linen, WardSupplies, House Supplies and Sewing Committee. The chairman of thesecommittees, together with the five officers, constitute the ExecutiveCommittee, and meet with the trustees at their regular monthlymeetings. 

In addition to paying the housekeeping bills, the board has come manytimes to the assistance of the trustees, and by giving entertainments, holding sales, teas, receptions, has raised large sums of money forspecial purposes. In connection with this Board is the Samaritan AidSociety which annually contributes about three hundred new articles ofclothing and bedding. 

The Board of Trustees is composed of able, experienced business menwho apply their knowledge of business affairs to the conduct of thehospital. It means a sacrifice of much time on their part, but it ischeerfully given. 

The hospital is non-sectarian. Suffering and need are the onlyrequisites for admission. During the past year among those who werecared for were:

Catholic 284Baptist 134Methodist 141Episcopalian 112Lutheran 97Presbyterian 96Hebrew 89Protestant 54Reformed 25Friends 12Confucianism 5Congregational 4United Brethren 3Evangelist 3Christian 2Not recorded 60 ---- 1141

[Illustration: ATTENDING SERVICE IN BED]

The nativity of the patients showed that nearly all countries wererepresented--Russia, Poland, Italy, Canada, Sweden, Norway, Scotland, England, Germany, Ireland, China, Hungary, Australia, Switzerland, Jerusalem, Roumania and Armenia. 

Never was the worth of its work better shown than in the terrible BallPark accident, which happened in Philadelphia in 1904, when by thecollapsing of the grandstand hundreds were killed and injured. Withouta moment's notice, more than a hundred patients were rushed to thehospital and cared for. When the wards were filled, cots were placedin the halls, in the offices, wherever there was room, and the injuredtenderly treated. 

Thus from small beginnings and a great need it has steadily grown, supported by contributions and upheld by the faithful work of thosewho labor for the love of the Master. Sacrifices of time and moneyhave been freely made for it, for the people who have worked tosupport it are few of them rich. It still needs help, for "the poorye have always with you. " And while there are poor people and sickpeople, Samaritan Hospital will always need the help of the morefortunate to aid it in its great work of relieving pain. 

CHAPTER XXX

THE MANNER OF THE MAN

Boundless Love for Men. Utter Humility. His Simplicity andInformality. Keen Sense of Humor. His Unconventional Methods of Work. Power as a Leader. His Tremendous Faith. 

What of the personality of the man back of all this ceaseless work, these stupendous undertakings? Much of it can be read in the workitself. But not all. One must know Dr. Conwell personally to realizethat deep, abiding love of humanity which is the wellspring of hislife and which shows itself in constant and innumerable acts ofthoughtfulness and kindness for the happiness of others. He cannot seea drunkard on the street without his heart going out in a desire tohelp him to a better life. He cannot see a child in tears, but thathe must know the trouble and mend it. From boyhood, it was one of thestrongest traits of his character, and when it clasped hands with aman's love of Christ, it became the ruling passion of his life. Thewoes of humanity touch him deeply. He freely gives himself, his time, his money to lighten them. But he knows that to do his best, is butcomparatively little. To him it is a pitiful thing that so much of theworld's, misery cannot be relieved because of the lack of money; thatpeople must starve, must suffer pain and disease, must go without theeducation that makes life brighter and happier, simply for the want ofthis one thing of so little worth compared with the great things oflife it has the power to withhold or grant. 

One must also be intimately associated with Dr. Conwell to realize thedeep humility that rules his heart, that makes him firmly believe anyman who will trust in God and go ahead in faith can accomplish allthat he himself has done, and more. 

"You do not know what a struggle my life is, " he said once to afriend. "Only God and my own heart know how far short I come of what Iought to be, and how often I mar the use He would make of me even whenI would serve Him. "

And again, at the Golden Jubilee services, in honor of his fiftiethbirthday, he said publicly what he many times says in private:

"I look back on the errors of by-gone years; my blunders; my pride;my self-sufficiency; my willfulness--if God would take me up in myunworthiness and imperfection and lift me to such a place of happinessand love as this--I say, He can do it for any man. 

"When I see the blunders I unintentionally make in history, inmathematics, in names, in rhetoric, in exegesis, and yet see that Goduses even blunders to save men--I sink back into the humblest placebefore Him and say, 'If God can use such preaching as that, blundersand mistakes like these; if He can take them and use them for Hisglory, He can use anybody and anything. ' I let out the secret of mylife when I tell you this: If I have succeeded at all, it has beenwith the conscious sense that as God has used even me, so can He useothers. God saved me and He can save them. My very faults show me, they teach me, that any person can be helped and saved. "

Speaking of his sermons, which are taken down by a stenographer andtypewritten for publication in the "Temple Review, " he said, withthe utmost dejection, "Positively they make me sick. To think that Ishould stand up and undertake to preach when I can do no better thanthat"

He has ever that sense of defeat from which all great minds sufferwhose high ideals ever elude them. 

In manner and speech, he is simple and unaffected, and approachable atall times. When not away from the city lecturing, he spends a certainpart of the day in his study at the church, where any one can seehim on any matter which he may wish to bring to his attention. Theante-room is thronged at the hour when it is known that he will bethere. People waylay him in the church corridors, and on the streets, so well known is his kindly heart, his attentive ear, his generoushand. 

Not only do these visitors invade the church, but they come to hishome. Early in the morning they are there. They await him when hereturns late at night. As an instance of their number, one Saturdayafternoon late in June he had one hour free which he hoped to take forrest and the preparation of the next morning's sermon. During that onehour he had six callers, each staying until the next arrived. One ofthese was a young man whom Dr. Conwell had never seen, a boy no morethan seventeen or eighteen. He had a few weeks before made a runawaymarriage with a girl still younger than himself. Her parents hadindignantly taken the bride home, and the young husband came to Dr. Conwell to ask him to seek out these parents and persuade them to letthe child wife return to her husband. 

He has a knack of putting everybody at ease in his presence, whichperhaps accounts for the freedom with which people, even utterstrangers, come to him and pour into his ear their life secrets. Thisearnest desire to help people, to make them happier and better, shines from his life with such force that one feels it immediately onentering his presence and opens one's heart to him. He helps, advises, and, because he is so preeminently a man of faith and believes sofirmly that all he has done has been accomplished by faith andperseverance, he inspires others with like confidence in themselves. They go away encouraged, hopeful, strengthened for the work that liesahead of them, or for the trouble they must surmount It is littlewonder the people throng to him for help. 

His simple, informal view of life is shown in other things. During asummer vacation in the Berkshires he was scheduled to lecture in oneof the home towns. His old friends and neighbors dearly love to hearhim, and nearly always secure a lecture from him while he is supposedto be resting. Entirely forgetting the lecture, he planned a fishingtrip that day. Just as the fishing party was ready to start, some oneremembered the lecture. There would not be time to go fishing, return, dress and go to the lecture town. But Dr. Conwell is a greatfisherman, and he disliked most thoroughly to give up that fishingtrip. He thought about it a few minutes, and then in his informal, unconventional fashion, decided he would both fish and lecture. Hepacked his lecturing apparel in a suit case, tied a tub for theaccommodation of the fish on the back of the wagon and started. Allday he fished, happy and contented. When lecturing time drew near, rattling and splashing, with a tubful of fish, round-eyed andastonished at the violent upheavals of their usual calm abiding place, he drove up to the lecture hall, changed his clothes, and at theappointed time appeared on the platform and delivered one of the bestlectures that section ever heard. 

Some people call his methods sensational. They are not sensationalin the sense of merely making a noise for the purpose of attractingattention. They are unconventional. Dr. Conwell pays no attention toforms if the life has gone out of them, to traditions, if their spiritis dead, their days of usefulness past. He lives in the present Hesees present needs and adopts methods to fit them. No doubt, many saidit was sensational to tear down that old church at Lexington himself. But there was no money and the church must come down. The only way toget it down and a new one built, was to go to work. And he went towork in straightforward, practical fashion. It takes courage andstrength of mind thus to tear down conventions and forms. But he doesnot hesitate if he sees they are blocking the road of progress. Thisdisregard of customs, this practical common-sense way of attackingevil or supplying needs is seen in all his church work. And because itis original and unusual, it brings upon him often, a storm of adversecriticism. But he never halts for that. He is willing to suffermisrepresentation, even calumny, if the cause for which he is working, progresses. He cares nothing for himself. He thinks only of the Masterand the work He has committed to his hands. 

Though the great masses in their ignorance and poverty appeal to himpowerfully and incite him to tremendous undertakings for their relief, he does not, because his hands are so full of great things, turnaside from opportunities to help the individual. Indeed, it is thisreadiness to answer a personal call for help that has endeared himso to thousands and thousands. No matter what may he the labor orinconvenience to himself, he responds instantly when the appeal comes. 

Two men, now members of the church, often tell the incident that ledto their conversion. One evening they fell to discussing Dr. Conwellwith some young friends who were members of the church. The young menstoutly maintained that "Conwell was like all the rest--in it for thealmighty dollar. " The church members as stoutly asserted that he wasactuated by motives far above such sordid consideration. But themen would not yield their point and the subject was dropped. A fewevenings later, coming out of a saloon at midnight into a blindingsnowstorm, they heard a man say, "My dear child, why did you not tellme before that you were in need. You know I would not let you suffer. "

"That's Conwell, " said one of the young fellows. 

"Nothing of the kind, " replied the other. "What's the matter with you?Catch him out a night like this. "

"But I tell you that was Conwell's voice, " said the first man. "I knowit. Let's follow him and see what he's doing. "

Through the thickly falling snow, they could see the tall figure ofDr. Conwell with a large basket on one arm and leading a little childby the hand. Keeping a sufficient distance behind, they followed himto a poor home in a little street, saw him enter, saw the light flashup and knew that he was living out in deed the doctrine he preached. Silent, they turned away. What his spoken word in The Temple could notdo his ministry at midnight had accomplished, and they became loyaland devoted members of the church. 

In conversation with a street car conductor at one time, he found theman eager to hear of Christ and His love, but unable to give heed onthe car because he might be reported for inattention to his duties andlose his place. Dr. Conwell asked him where he took dinner, and at thenoon hour was there and, plainly and simply, as the man ate his lunch, told what Christ's love in his heart and life would mean. 

Such stories could be multiplied many times of this personal ministrythat seeks day and night, in season and out, to make mankind better, to lift it up where it may grasp eternal truth. 

Francis Willard says:

"To move among the people on the common street; to meet them in themarket-place on equal terms; to live among them not as saint or monk, but as a brother man with brother men; to serve God not with form orritual, but in the free impulse of the soul; to bear the burdenof society and relieve its needs; to carry on its multitudinousactivities in the city, social, commercial, political, andphilanthropic--this is the religion of the Son of man. " This is thereligion of Dr. Conwell. 

As a leader and organizer he is almost without an equal in churchwork. He sees a need. His practical mind goes to work to plan ways tomeet it. He organizes the work thoroughly and carefully; he rallieshis workers about him and then leads them dauntlessly forward tosuccess. He has weathered many a fierce gale of opposition, won out inmany a furious storm of criticism. The greater the obstacles, the morebrightly does his ability as a leader shine. He seems to call up fromsome secret storehouse reserves of enthusiasm. He gets everybodyenergetically and cheerfully at work, and the obstacles that seemedinsurmountable suddenly melt away. As some one has said, "He attemptsthe impossible, yet finds practical ways to accomplish it"

The way he met an unexpected demand for money during the building ofthe church illustrates this:

The trustees had, as they thought, made provision for the renewal of anote of $2, 000, due Dec. 27th. Late Friday, Dec. 24th, the news camethat the note could not be renewed, that it must be paid Monday. They had no money, nothing could be done but appeal to the people onSunday. 

But it was not a usual Sunday. The Church, just the night before, hadclosed a big fair for the College. Many had served at the fair tablesalmost until the Sabbath morning was ushered in. They were tired. Allhad given money, many even beyond what they could afford. It was, besides, the day after Christmas, and if ever a man's pocketbook isempty, it is then. To make the outlook still drearier, the day openedwith a snowstorm that threatened at church time to turn into adrizzling rain. Here was truly the impossible, for none of the peopleat any time could give a large sum. Yet he faced the situationdauntlessly, aroused his people, and by evening $2, 200 had beenpledged for immediate payment, and of that $1, 300 was received in cashthat Sunday. 

In a sermon once he said:

"Last summer I rode by a locality where there had been a mill, nowpartially destroyed by a cyclone. I looked at the great engine lyingupon its side. I looked at the wheels, at the boilers so out of place, thrown carelessly together. I saw pieces of iron the uses of which Idid not understand. I saw iron bands, bearings, braces, and shaftingscattered about, and I found the great circular saw rusting, flat inthe grass. I went on my way wondering why any person should abandon somany pieces of such excellent machinery, leaving good property to goto waste. But again, not many weeks ago, I went by that same place andsaw a building there, temporary in its nature, but with smoke pouringout of the stack and steam hissing and puffing from the exhaust pipe. I heard the sound of the great saw singing its song of industry; I sawthe teamsters hauling away great loads of lumber. The only differencebetween the apparently useless old lumber and scrap iron, piledtogether in promiscuous confusion, machinery thrown into a heapwithout the arrangement, and the new building with its powerful engineworking smoothly and swiftly for the comfort and wealth of men, was that before the rebuilding, the wheels, the saw, the shafting, boilers, piston-rod, and fly wheel had no definite relation to eachother. But some man picked out all these features of a complete milland put them into proper relation; he adjusted shaft, boiler, andcogwheel, put water in the boiler and fire under it, let steam intothe cylinders, and moved piston-rod, wheels, and saw. There were nonew cogs, wheels, boilers, or saws; no new piece of machinery; therehas only been an intelligent spirit found to set them in their properplaces and relationship. 

"One great difficulty with this world, whether of the entire globe orthe individual church, is that it is made up of all sorts of machinerywhich is not adjusted; which is out of place; no fire under theboiler; no steam to move the machinery. There is none of the necessaryrelationship--there can he no affinity between cold and steam, between power wasted and utility; and to overcome this difficulty isone of the great problems of the earth to-day. The churches are verymuch in this condition. There are cogwheels, pulleys, belting, andengines in the church, but out of all useful relationship. There aresincere, earnest Christians, men and women, but they are adjustedto no power and no purpose; they have no definite relationship toutility. They go or come, or lie still and rust, and a vast power forgood is unapplied. The text says "We are ambassadors for Christ"; thatmeans, in the clearest terms, the greatest object of the Christianteacher and worker should be the bringing into right relations all theforces of men, and gearing them to the power of Christ"

He undoubtedly understands bringing men together, and getting themat work to secure almost marvelous results. A friend speaking of hisability once said: "I admire Mr. Conwell for the power of which he ispossessed of reaching out and getting hold of men and grappling themto himself with hooks of steel. 

"I admire him not only for the power he has of binding men not onlyto himself, but of binding men to Christ, and of binding them to oneanother; for the power he has of generating enthusiasm. His peopleare bound not only to the church, to the pastor, to God, but to oneanother. "

He never fails to appreciate the spirit with which a church memberworks, even if results are not always as anticipated, or even if theproject itself is not always practical. He will cheerfully put hishand down into his pocket and pay the bill for some impracticalscheme, rather than dampen the ardor of an enthusiastic worker. Heknows that experience will come with practice, but that a willing, zealous worker is above price. 

Those who know him most intimately find in him, despite his strong, practical common sense, despite his years of hard work in the world, despite the many times he has been deceived and imposed upon, acertain boyish simplicity and guilelessness of heart, a touch of thepoetic, idealistic temperament that sees gold where there is onlybrass; that hopes and believes, where reason for hope and beliefthere is none. It is a winning trait that endears friends to himmost closely, that makes them cheerfully overlook such imprudentbenefactions as may result from it, though he himself holds it witha strong rein, and only reveals that side of his nature to those whoknow him best. 

He studies constantly how he may help others, never how he may resthimself. At his old home at South Worthington, Mass. , he has built andequipped an academy for the education of the boys and girls of theneighborhood. He wants no boy or girl of his home locality to havethe bitter fight for an education that he was forced to experience. It is a commodious building with class-rooms and a large public hallwhich is used for entertainments, for prayer meetings, harvest homesand all the gatherings of the nearby farming community. 

Many other enterprises besides those directly connected with thechurch grow out of Dr. Conwell's desire to be of service to mankind. But like the organizations of the church, the need for them wasstrongly felt before they took form. 

While officiating at the funeral of a fireman who had lost his life bythe falling walls of a burning building and who had left three smallchildren uncared for, Dr. Conwell was impressed with the need of ahome for the orphans of men who risked their lives for the city'sgood. Pondering the subject, he was called that same day to thebedside of a shut-in, who, while he was there, asked him if there wasany way by which she could be of service to helpless children leftwithout paternal care or support. She said the subject had been on hermind and such a work was dear to her heart. She was a gifted writerand wielded considerable influence and could, by her pen, do much goodfor such a work, not only by her writings but by personal lettersasking for contributions to establish and support an orphanage. Thecoincidence impressed the matter still more strongly on Dr. Conwell'smind. But that was not the end of it. Still that same day, a lady cameto him and asked his assistance in securing for her a position asmatron of an orphanage; and a woman physician came to his studyand offered her services free, to care for orphan children in aninstitution for them. 

Such direct leading was not to be withstood. Dr. Conwell called on aformer chief of police and asked his opinion as to an orphanage forthe children of fireman and policeman. The policeman welcomed theproject heartily, said he had long been thinking of that very problem, and that if it were started by a responsible person, several thousanddollars would be given by the policeman for its support. Stillwondering if he should take such leadings as indications of a definiteneed, Dr. Conwell went to his study, called in some of his churchadvisers and talked the matter over. Nothing at that meeting wasdefinitely settled, because some work interrupted it and those presentdispersed for other duties. But as they disbanded and Dr. Conwellopened his mail, a check fell out for $75 from Rev. Chas. M. Sheldon, which he said in the letter accompanying it, he desired to give towarda movement for helping needy children. 

Dr. Conwell no longer hesitated, and the Philadelphia Orphans' HomeSociety, of which he is president, was organized, and has done a goodwork in caring for helpless little ones, giving its whole effort tosecuring permanent homes for the children and their adoption intolonely families. 

Although most of the money from his lectures goes to Temple College, he uses a portion of it to support poor students elsewhere. He haspaid for the education of 1, 550 college students besides contributingpartly to the education of hundreds of others. In fact, all the moneyhe makes, outside of what is required for immediate needs of hisfamily, is given away. He cares so little for money for himself, hiswants are so few and simple, that he seldom pays any attention as towhether he has enough with him for personal use. He found once whenstarting to lecture in New Jersey that after he had bought his tickethe hadn't a cent left. Thinking, however, he would be paid when thelecture was over, he went on. But the lecture committee told him theywould send a check. Having no money to pay a hotel bill, he took thetrain back. Reaching Philadelphia after midnight he boarded a trolleyand told the conductor who he was and his predicament, offering tosend the man the money for his fare next day. But the conductor wasnot to be fooled, said he didn't know Dr. Conwell from Adam, andput him off. And Dr. Conwell walked twenty long blocks to his home, chuckling all the way at the humor of the situation. 

He has a keen sense of humor, as his audiences know. Though thespiritual side of his nature is so intense, his love of fun andappreciation of the humorous relieves him from being solemn orsanctimonious. He is sunny, cheerful, ever ready at a chance meetingwith a smile or a joke. Children, who as a rule look upon a ministeras a man enshrouded in solemn dignity, are delightfully surprised tofind in him a jolly, fun-loving comrade, a fact which has much to dowith the number of young people who throng Grace church and enter itsmembership. 

The closeness of his walk with God is shown in his unbounded faith, in the implicit reliance he has in the power of prayer. Though to theworld he attacks the problems confronting him with shrewd, practicalbusiness sense, behind and underneath this, and greater than it all, is the earnestness with which he first seeks to know the will of Godand the sincerity with which he consecrates himself to the work. Christ is to him a very near personal friend, in very truth an ElderBrother to whom he constantly goes for guidance and help, Whose willhe wants to do solely, in the current of Whose purpose he wants tomove. "Men who intend to serve the Lord should consecrate themselvesin heart-searching and prayer, " he has said many and many a time. Andof prayer itself he says:

"There is planted in every human heart this knowledge, namely, thatthere is a power beyond our reach, a mysterious potency shaping theforces of life, which if we would win we must have in our favor. Therecome to us all, events over which we have no control by physical ormental power. Is there any hope of guiding those mysterious forces?Yes, friends, there is a way of securing them in our favor orpreventing them from going against us. How? It is by prayer. When aman has done all he can do, still there is a mighty, mysterious agencyover which he needs influence to secure success. The only way he canreach that is by prayer. "

He has good reason to believe in the power of prayer, for the answershe has received in some cases have seemed almost miraculous. 

When The Temple was being built, Dr. Conwell proposed that the newpipe organ be put in to be ready for the opening service. But thechurch felt it would be unwise to assume such an extra burden of debtand voted against it. Dr. Conwell felt persuaded that the organ oughtto go in, and spent one whole night in The Temple in prayer forguidance. As the result, he decided that the organ should be built. The contract was given, the first payment made, but when in a fewmonths a note of $1, 500 came due, there was not a cent in the treasuryto meet it. He knew it would be a most disastrous blow to the churchinterests, with such a vast building project started, to have thatnote go to protest. Yet he couldn't ask the membership to raise themoney since it had voted against building the organ at that time. Disheartened, full of gloomy foreboding, he came Sunday morning to thechurch to preach. The money must be ready next morning, yet he knewnot which way to turn. He felt he had been acting in accordance withGod's will, for the decision had been made after a night of earnestprayer. Yet here stood a wall of Jericho before him and no divinedirection came as to how to make it fall. As he entered his study, hisprivate secretary handed him a letter. He opened it, and out fell acheck for $1, 500 from an unknown man in Massillon, Ohio, who had onceheard Dr. Conwell lecture and felt strangely impelled to send him$1, 500 to use in The Temple work. Dr. Conwell prayed and rejoiced inan ecstasy of gratitude. Three times he broke down during the sermon. His people wondered what was the matter, but said he had neverpreached more powerfully. 

He is a man of prayer and a man of work. Loving, great-hearted, unselfish, cheery, practical, hard-working, he yet draws his greatestinspiration from that silent inner communion with the Master he serveswith such single-hearted, unfaltering devotion. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE MANNER OF THE MESSAGE

The Style of the Sermons. Their Subject Matter. Preaching to Help SomeIndividual Church Member. 

In the pulpit, Dr. Conwell is as simple and natural as he is in hisstudy or in the home. Every part of the service is rendered with theheart, as well as the understanding. His reading of a chapter from theBible is a sermon in itself. The vast congregation follow it with asclose attention as they do the sermon. He seems to make every versealive, to send it with new meaning into each heart. The people in itare real people, who have lived and suffered, who had all the hopesand fears of men and women of to-day. Often little explanations aredropped or timely, practical applications, and when it is over, ifthat were all of the service one would be repaid for attending. 

The hymns, too, are read with feeling and life. If a verse expresses asentiment contrary to the church feeling, it is not sung. He will nothave sung what is not worthy of belief. 

The sermons are full of homely, practical illustrations, drawn fromthe experiences of everyday life. Dr. Conwell announces his text andbegins quite simply, sometimes with a little story to illustrate histhought. If Bible characters take any part in it, he makes them realmen and women. He pictures them so graphically, the audience seesthem, hears them talk, knows what they thought, how they lived. In aword, each hearer feels as if he had met them personally. Never againare they mere names. They are living, breathing men and women. 

Dr. Conwell makes his sermons human because he touches life, thelife of the past, the life of the present, the lives of those in hisaudience. He makes them interesting by his word pictures. He holdsattention by the dramatic interest he infuses into the theme. He hasbeen called the "Story-telling Preacher" because his sermons are sofull of anecdote and illustrations. But every story not only pointsa moral, but is full of the interest that fastens it on the hearer'smind. Children in their teens enjoy his sermons, so vivid are they, sofull of human, every day interest. Yet all this is but the frameworkon which is reared some helpful, inspiring Biblical truth which isthe crown, the climax, and which because of its careful upbuilding bystory and homely illustration is fixed on the hearer's mind and heartin a way never to be forgotten. It is held there by the simple thingsof life he sees about him every day, and which, every time he seesthem, recall the truth he has heard preached. Dr. Thomas May Pierce, speaking of Dr. Conwell's method of preaching, says:

"Spurgeon sought the masses and found them by preaching the gospelwith homely illustrations; Russell H. Conwell comes to Philadelphia, he seeks out the masses, he finds them with his plain presentation ofthe old, old story. "

Occasionally he paints word pictures that hold the audienceenthralled, or when some great wrong stirs him, rises to heights ofimpassioned oratory that bring his audience to tears. He never writesout his sermons. Indeed, often he has no time to give them anypreparation whatever. Sometimes he does not choose his text until hecomes on the platform. Nobody regrets more than Dr. Conwell this lackof preparation, but so many duties press, every minute has so manyburdens of work, that it is impossible at times to crowd in a thoughtfor the sermon. It is left for the inspiration of the moment. "Ipreach poor sermons that other men may preach good ones, " he remarkedonce, meaning that so much of his time was taken up with church workand lecturing that he has little to give his sermons, and almost allof the fees from his lectures are devoted to the education of men forthe ministry. 

His one purpose in his sermons is to bring Christ into the lives ofhis people, to bring them some message from the word of God that willdo them good, make them better, lift them up spiritually to a higherplane. His people know he comes to them with this strong desire in hisheart and they attend the services feeling confident that even thoughhe is poorly prepared, they will nevertheless get practical andspiritual help for the week. 

When he knows that some one member is struggling with a specialproblem either in business, in the home circle, in his spiritual life, he endeavors to weave into his sermon something that will help him, knowing that no heart is alone in its sorrow, that the burden onebears, others carry, and what will reach one will carry a message orcheer to many. 

"During the building of The Temple, " says Smith in his interestinglife of Dr. Conwell, "a devoted member, who was in the bookbindingbusiness, walked to his office every morning and put his car-fare intothe building fund. Dr. Conwell made note of the sacrifice, and askedhimself the question, 'How can I help that man to be more prosperous?'He kept him in mind, and while on a lecturing trip he visited a townwhere improved machines for bookbinding were employed. He called atthe establishment and found out all he could about the new machines. The next Sunday morning, he used the new bookbinder as an illustrationof some Scriptural truth. The result was, the church member securedthe machines of which his pastor had spoken, and increased his incomemany-fold. The largest sum of money given to the building of the newTemple was given by that same bookbinder. 

"A certain lady made soap for a fair held in the Lower Temple. Dr. Conwell advised her to go into the soap-making business. She hesitatedto take his advice. He visited a well known soap factory, and in oneof his sermons described the most improved methods of soap-making asan illustration of some improved method of Christian work. Hearing theillustration used from the pulpit, the lady in question acted on thepastor's previous advice, and started her nephew in the soap business, in which he has prospered. 

"A certain blacksmith in Philadelphia who was a member of GraceChurch, but who lived in another part of the city, was advised by Dr. Conwell to start a mission in his neighborhood. The mechanic pleadedignorance and his inability to acquire sufficient education to enablehim to do any kind of Christian work. On Sunday morning Dr. Conwellwove into his sermon an historical sketch of Elihu Burritt, that poorboy with meagre school advantages, who bound out to a blacksmith, atthe age of sixteen, and compelled to associate with the ignorant, yetlearned thirty-three languages, became a scholar and an orator offame. The hesitating blacksmith, encouraged by the example of ElihuBurritt, took courage and went to work. He founded the mission whichsoon grew into the Tioga Baptist Church. "

In addition to helping his own church members, this method ofpreaching had other results. Smith gives the following instance:

"A few years ago the pastor of a small country church in Massachusettsresolved to try Dr. Conwell's method of imparting useful informationthrough his illustrations, and teaching the people what they neededto know. Acting on Dr. Conwell's advice, he studied agriculturalchemistry, dairy farming, and household economy. He did not becomea sensationalist and advertise to preach on these subjects, but hebrought in many helpful illustrations which the people recognized asvaluable, and soon the meeting-house was filled with eager listeners. After careful study the minister became convinced that the farmers onthose old worn-out farms in Western Massachusetts should go into thedairy business, and feed their cows on ensilage through the long NewEngland winter. One bright morning he preached a sermon on 'Leaven, 'and incidentally used a silo as an illustration. The preacher did notsacrifice his sermon to his illustration, but taught a great truthand set the farmers to thinking along a new line. As a result of thatsermon one poor farmer built a silo and filled it with green corn inthe autumn; his cows relished the new food and repaid him splendidlywith milk. That farmer Is the richest man In the country to-day. Thisis only one of a great many ways in which that practical preacherhelped his poor, struggling parishioners by using the Conwell method. What was the spiritual result of such preaching among the countrypeople? He had a great, wide, and deep revival of religion, the firstthe church had enjoyed for twenty-five years. "

Thus Dr. Conwell weaves practical sense and spiritual truths togetherin a way that helps people for the span of life they live in thisworld, for the eternal life beyond. He never forgets the soul and itsneeds. That is his foremost thought. But he recognizes also that thereis a body and that it lives in a practical world. And whenever andwherever he can help practically, as well as spiritually, he does it, realizing that the world needs Christians who have the means as wellas the spirit to carry forward Christ's work. 

Speaking of his methods of preaching, Rev. Albert G. Lawson, D. D. , says:

"He has been blessed in his ministry because of three things: He has ademocratic, philosophic, philanthropic bee in his bonnet, a big one, too, and he has attempted to bring us to see that churches meansomething beside fine houses and good music. There must be arecognition of the fact that when a man is lost, he is lost in body aswell as in soul One needs, therefore, as our Lord would, to begin atthe foundations, the building anew of the mind with the body; andI bless God for the democratic, and the philosophic, and thephilanthropic idea which is manifest in this strong church. I hopethere will be enough power in it to make every Baptist minister sickuntil he tries to occupy the same field that Jesus Christ did in hislife and ministry; until every one of the churches shall recognize theprivilege of having Jesus Christ reshaped in the men and women nearthem. "

CHAPTER XXXII

THESE BUSY LATER DAYS

A Typical Week Day. A Typical Sunday. Mrs. Conwell. Back to theBerkshires in Summer for Rest. 

By the record of what Dr. Conwell has accomplished may be judged howbusy are his days. 

In early youth he learned to use his time to the best advantage. Studying and working on the farm, working and studying at Wilbrahamand Yale, told him how precious is each minute. Work he must when hewanted to study. Study he must when he needed to work. Every minutebecame as carefully treasured as though it were a miser's gold. But itwas excellent training for the busy later days when work would pressfrom all sides until it was distraction to know what to do first. 

"Do the next thing, " is the advice he gives his college students. Itis undoubtedly a saving of time to take the work that lies immediatelyat hand and despatch it. But when the hand is surrounded by work in ascore of important forms, all clamoring for recognition, what is "thenext thing" becomes a question difficult to decide. 

Then it is that one must plan as carefully to use one's minutes as hedoes to expend one's income when expenses outrun it. 

His private secretary gave the following account, in the "TempleMagazine, " of a week day and a Sunday in Dr. Conwell's life:

"No two days are alike in his work, and he has no specified hour fordefinite classes of calls or kinds of work. 

"After breakfast he goes to his office in The Temple. Here visitorsfrom half a dozen to twenty await him, representing a great variety ofneeds or business. 

"Visitors wait their turn in the ante-room of his study and arereceived by him in the order of their arrival. The importance ofbusiness, rank or social position of the caller does not interferewith this order. 

[Illustration: THE CHORUS OF THE BAPTIST TEMPLE]

"Throughout the whole day in the street, at the church, at theCollege, wherever he goes, he is beset by persons urging him formoney, free lectures, to write introductions to all sorts of books, for sermons, or to take up collections for indigent individuals orchurches. Letters reach him even from Canada, asking him to take careof some aunt, uncle, runaway son, or needy family, in Philadelphia. Sometimes for days together he does not secure five minutes to attendto his correspondence. Personal letters which he must answer himselfoften wait for weeks before he can attend to them, although heendeavors, as a rule, to answer important letters on the day theyare received. People call to request him to deliver addresses atthe dedication of churches, schoolhouses, colleges, flag-raisings, commencements, and anniversaries, re-unions, political meetings, andall manner of reform movements. Authors urge him to read their work inmanuscript; orators without orations write to him and come to him foraddress or sermon; applications flow in for letters of introductionhighly recommending entire strangers for anything they want. Agentsfor books come to him for endorsements, with religious newspapers forsubscriptions and articles, and with patent medicines urging him to be'cured with one bottle. '

"It is well known that he was a lawyer before entering the ministry, and orphans, guardians, widows, and young men entering business cometo him asking him to make wills, contracts, etc. , and to give thempoints of law concerning their undertakings. Weddings and funeralsclaim his attention. Urgent messages to visit the sick and the dyingand the unfortunate come to him, and these appeals are answered firsteither by himself or the associate pastor; the cries of the sufferingmaking the most eloquent of all appeals to these two busy men. "

Frequently he comes to the church again in the afternoon to meetsome one by appointment. Both afternoon and evening are crowded withengagements to see people, to make addresses, to attend specialmeetings of various kinds, with College and Hospital duties. 

"I am expected to preside at six different meetings to-night, " he saidsmilingly to a friend at The Temple one evening as the membershipbegan to stream in to look after its different lines of work. 

Much, of the time during the winter he is away lecturing, but he keepsin constant communication with The Temple and its work. By letter, wire or telephone he is ready to respond to any emergency requiringhis advice or suggestion. These lecture trips carry him all over thecountry, but they are so carefully planned that with rare exceptionshe is in the pulpit Sunday morning. Frequently, when returning, hewires for his secretary to meet him part way, if from the West, atHarrisburg or Altoona; if from the South, at Washington or beyond. Thesecretary brings the mail and the remaining hours of the journey arefilled with work, dictating letters, articles for magazines or press, possibly material for a book, whatever work most presses. 

Pastoral calls in the usual sense of the term cannot be made in amembership of more than three thousand. But visits to the sick, tothe poor, to the dying, are paid whenever the call comes. To help andconsole the afflicted, to point the way to Christ, is the work nearestand dearest to Dr. Conwell's heart and always comes first. Funerals, too, claim a large part of the pastor's time, seven in one day amongthe Grace Church membership calling for the services of both Dr. Conwell and his associate. Weddings are not an unimportant feature, six having been one day's record at The Temple. 

Of his Sundays, his secretary says:

"From the time of rising until half-past eight, he gives specialattention to the subject of the morning sermon, and usually selectshis text and general line of thought before sitting down to breakfast. After family prayers, he spends half an hour in his study, at home, examining books and authorities in the completion of his sermon. Sometimes he is unable to select a text until reaching The Temple. Hehas, though rarely, made his selection after taking his place at thepulpit. 

"At nine-thirty, he is always promptly in his place at the opening ofthe Young Men's prayer-meeting or at the Women's prayer-meeting in theLower Temple. At the Young Men's meeting he plays the organ and leadsthe singing. If he takes any other part in the meeting he is verybrief, in talk or prayer. 

"At half-past ten he goes directly to the Upper Temple, where as arule he conducts all the exercises with the exception of the 'notices'and a prayer offered by the associate pastor, or in his absence at anoverflow service in the Lower Temple, by the dean of the College orchaplain of the Hospital. The pastor meets the candidates forbaptism in his study before service, for conference and prayer. Inadministering the ordinance, he is assisted by the associate pastor, who leads the candidates into the baptistry. 

"The pastor reads the hymns. It is his custom to preach withoutany notes whatever; rarely, a scrap of paper may lie on the deskcontaining memoranda or suggestions of leading thoughts, butfrequently even when this is the case the notes are ignored. 

"A prominent--possibly the prevailing--idea in the preparation of hissermons is the need of individuals in his congregation. He aims tosay those things which will be the most helpful and inspiring to theunconverted seeking Christ, or to the Christian desiring to lead anobler spiritual life. It may be said of nearly all his illustrationsthat they present such a variety of spiritual teaching that differentpersons will catch from them different suggestions adapted to needs ofeach. 

"The morning service closes promptly at twelve o'clock; then followsan informal reception for thirty minutes or it may be an hour, forhundreds, sometimes a thousand and more, many of them visitors fromother cities and states, press forward to shake hands with him. This, Dr. Conwell considers an important part of his church work, giving himan opportunity to meet many of the church members and extend personalgreetings to those whom he would have no possible opportunity to visitin their homes. 

"He dines at one o'clock. At two, he is in The Temple; again hereceives more callers, and if possible makes some preparation forservices of the afternoon, in connection with the Sunday-school work. At two-thirty, he is present at the opening of the Junior departmentof the Sunday-school in the Lower Temple, where he takes greatinterest in the singing, which is a special feature of thatdepartment. At three o'clock, he appears promptly on the platform inthe auditorium where the Adult department of the Sunday-school meets, gives a short exposition of the lesson for the day, and answers fromthe Question Box. These cover a great variety of subjects, from theabsurdity of some crack-brained crank to the pathetic appeal of someneedy soul. Some of these questions may be sent in by mail during theweek, but the greater part of them are handed to the pastor by theushers. To secure an answer the question must be upon some subjectconnected with religious life or experience, some theme of Christianethics in everyday life. 

"When the questions are answered, the pastor returns to the LowerTemple, going to the Junior, Intermediate, or Kindergarten departmentto assist in the closing exercises. At the close of the Sunday-schoolsession, teachers and scholars surround him, seeking information oradvice concerning the school work, their Christian experience orperhaps to tell him their desire to unite with the church. [A]

[Footnote A: Lately (1905), however, he has had to give up much ofthis Sunday-school work on account of the need of rest. ]

"As a rule, he leaves The Temple at five o'clock If he finds novisitors with appeals for counsel or assistance waiting for him at hishome, he lies down for half an hour. Usually the visitors are there, and his half-hour rest is postponed until after the evening service. 

"Supper at five-thirty, after which he goes to his study to preparefor the evening service, selecting his subject and looking up suchreferences as he thinks may be useful. At seven-fifteen, he is in TheTemple again, often visiting for a few moments one of the ChristianEndeavor societies, several of which are at that time in session inthe Lower Temple. At half-past seven the general service is held inthe auditorium. The evening sermon is published weekly in the "TempleReview. " He gives all portions of this service full attention. 

"At nine o'clock this service closes, and the pastor goes once moreto the Lower Temple, where both congregations, the 'main' and the'overflow' unite, so far as is possible, in a union prayer service. The hall of the Lower Temple and the rooms connected with it arealways overcrowded at this service meeting, and many are unable toget within hearing of the speakers on the platform. Here Dr. Conwellpresides at the organ and has general direction of the evangelisticservices, assisted by the associate pastor. As enquirers rise forprayers, --the prayers of God's people, --Dr. Conwell makes note of eachone, and to their great surprise recognizes them when he meets them onthe street or at another service, long afterward. This union meetingis followed by another general reception especially intended for a fewwords of personal conversation with those who have risen for prayerand with strangers who are brought forward and introduced by membersof the church. This is the most fatiguing part of the day's work andoccupies from one hour to an hour and a half. He reaches home abouteleven o'clock and before retiring makes a careful memoranda of suchpeople as have requested him to pray for them, and such other mattersas may require his attention during the week. He seldom gets to bedmuch before midnight. "

In all the crowd and pressure of work, he is ably assisted by Mrs. Conwell. In the early days of his ministry at Grace Church she washis private secretary, but as the work grew for both of them, she wascompelled to give this up. 

She enters into all her husband's work and plans with cheery, helpfulenthusiasm. Yet her hands are full of her own special church work, forshe is a most important member of the various working associations ofthe church, college and hospital. For many years she was treasurer ofthe large annual fairs of The Temple, as well as being at the head ofa number of large teas and fairs held for the benefit of SamaritanHospital. In addition to all this church and charitable work, shemakes the home a happy centre of the brightest social life and aquiet, well-ordered retreat for the tired preacher and lecturer whenhe needs rest. 

A writer in "The Ladies' Home Journal, " in a series of articles on"Wives of Famous Pastors, " says of Mrs. Conwell:

"Mrs. Conwell finds her greatest happiness in her husband's work, andgives him always her sympathy and devotion. She passes many hours atwork by his side when he is unable to notice her by word or look; sheknows he delights In her presence, for he often says when writing, 'Ican do better if you remain. ' Her whole life is wrapped up in the workof The Temple, and all those multitudinous enterprises connected withthat most successful of churches. 

"She makes an ideal wife for a pastor whose work is varied and whosetime is as interrupted as are Mr. Conwell's work and time. On herhusband's lecture tours she looks well after his comfort, seeing tothose things which a busy and earnest man is almost sure to overlookand neglect. In all things he finds her his helpmeet and caretaker. "

From this busy life the family escape in summer to Dr. Conwell'sboyhood home in the Berkshires. Here amid the hills he loves, with thebrook of his boyhood days again singing him to sleep, he rests andrecuperates for the coming winter's campaign. 

The little farmhouse is vastly changed since those early days. Manyadditions have been made, modern improvements added, spacious porchessurround it on all sides, and a green, velvety lawn dotted withshrubbery and flowers has replaced the rocks and stones, the sparsegrass of fifty years ago. If Martin and Miranda Conwell could returnand see the little house now with its artistic furnishings, its wallshung with pictures from those very lands the mother read her boyabout, they would think miracles had indeed come to pass. 

In front of the house where once flashed a little brook that "set thesilences to rhyme" is now a silvery lake framed in rich green foliage. Up in the hill where swayed the old hemlock with the eagle's nest fora crown rises an observatory. From the top one gazes in summer into abillowy sea of green in which the spire of the Methodist church riseslike a far distant white sail. 

It is a happy family that gathers in the old homestead during thesummer days. His daughter, now Mrs. Tuttle, comes with her children, Mr. Turtle, who is a civil engineer, joining them when his workpermits. Dr. Conwell's son Leon, proprietor and editor of theSomerville (Mass. ) "Journal, " with his wife and child, always spend asmuch of the summer there as possible. One vacant chair there is in thehappy family circle. Agnes, the only child of Dr. And Mrs. Conwell, died in 1901, in her twenty-sixth year. She was the wife of AlfredBarker. A remarkably bright and gifted girl, clever with her pen, charming in her personality, an enthusiastic and successful worker inthe many interests of church, college and hospital, her death was asad loss to her family and friends. 

Not only the beauty of the place but the associations bring rest andpeace to the tired spirit of the busy preacher and lecturer, and hereturns to his work refreshed, ready to take up with rekindled energyand enthusiasm the tasks awaiting him. 

Thus his busy life goes on, full of unceasing work for the good ofothers. Over his bed hangs a gold sheathed sword which to him is adaily inspiration to do some deed worthy of the sacrifice which ittypifies. "I look at it each morning, " said Dr. Conwell to a friend, "and pray for help to do something that day to make my life worthy ofsuch a sacrifice. " And each, day he prays the prayer his father prayedfor him in boyhood days, "May no person be the worse because I havelived this day, but may some one be the better. "

CHAPTER XXXIII

AS A LECTURER

His Wide Fame as a Lecturer. Date of Entrance on Lecture Platform. Number of Lectures Given. The Press on His Lectures. Some Instances ofHow His Lectures Have Helped People. Address at Banquet to PresidentMcKinley. 

In the maze of this church, college and hospital work, Dr. Conwellfinds time to lecture from one hundred to two hundred and twenty-fivetimes in a year. Indeed, he frequently leaves Philadelphia at midnightafter a Sunday of hard work, travels and lectures as far as Kansas andis back again for Friday evening prayer meeting and for his duties thefollowing Sunday. 

As a lecturer, he is probably known to a greater number of peoplethan he is as a preacher, for his lecturing trips take him from theAtlantic to the Pacific. Since he began, he has delivered more thansix thousand lectures. 

He has been on the lecture platform since the year 1862, giving onan average of two hundred lectures in a year. In addition, he hasaddressed many of the largest conventions in America and preachesweekly to an audience of more than three thousand. So that he hasundoubtedly addressed more people in America than any man living. Heis to-day one of the most eminent and most popular figures on thelecture platform of this country, the last of the galaxy of such menas Gough, Beecher, Chapin. "There are but ten real American lecturerson the American platform to-day, " says "Leslie's Weekly. " "RussellConwell is one of the ten and probably the most eminent. "

His lectures, like his sermons, are full of practical help and goodsense. They are profusely illustrated with anecdote and story thatfasten the thought of his subject. He uses no notes, and gives hislecture little thought during the day. Indeed, he often does not knowthe subject until he hears the chairman announce it. If the lecture isnew or one that he has not given for many years, he occasionally has afew notes or a brief outline before him. But usually he is so fullof the subject, ideas and illustrations so crowd his mind that he istroubled with the wealth, rather than the dearth, of material. Herarely gives a lecture twice alike. The main thought, of course, isthe same. But new experiences suggest new illustrations, and so, nomatter how many times one hears it, he always hears something new. "That's the third time I've heard Acres of Diamonds, " said onedelighted auditor, "and every time it grows better. "

Perhaps the best idea of his lectures can be gleaned from the pressnotices that have appeared, though he never keeps a press noticehimself, nor pays any attention to the compliments that may have beenpaid him. These that have been collected at random by friends by nomeans cover the field of what has been said or written about him. 

Speaking of a lecture in 1870, when he toured England, the London"Telegraph" says:

"The man is weirdly like his native hills. You can hear the cascadesand the trickling streams in his tone of voice. He has a strange andunconscious power of so modulating his voice as to suggest the roar ofthe tempest in rocky declivities, or the soft echo of music in distantvalleys. The breezy freshness and natural suggestiveness of variednature in its wild state was completely fascinating. He excelled indescription, and the auditor could almost hear the Niagara roll as hedescribed it, and listened to catch the sound of sighing pines in hisvoice as he told of the Carolinas. "

"The lecture was wonderful in clearness, powerful, and eloquent indelivery, " says the London "News. " "The speaker made the past a livingpresent, and led the audience, unconscious of time, with him in hiswalks and talks with famous men. When engrossed in his lecture hisfacial expression is a study. His countenance conveys more quicklythan his words the thought which he is elucidating, and when he refersto his Maker, his face takes on an expression indescribable for itspurity. He seems to hold the people as children stare at brilliant andstartling pictures. "

"It is of no use to try to report Conwell's lectures, " is the verdictof the Springfield "Union. " "They are unique. Unlike anything or anyone else. Filled with good sense, brilliant with new suggestions, andinspiring always to noble life and deeds, they always please withtheir wit. The reader of his addresses does not know the full power ofthe man. "

"His stories are always singularly adapted to the lecturer's purpose. Each story is mirth-provoking. The audience chuckled, shook, swayed, and roared with convulsions of laughter, " says the "London Times. " "Hehas been in the lecture field but a few years, yet he has already madea place beside such men as Phillips, Beecher, and Chapin. "

"The only lecturer in America, " concludes the Philadelphia "Times, ""who can fill a hall in this city with three thousand people at adollar a ticket. "

The most popular of all his lectures is "Acres of Diamonds, " which hehas given 3, 420 times, which is printed, in part, at the end of thebook. But his list of lectures is a long one, including:

 "The Philosophy of History. " "Men of the Mountains. " "The Old and the New New England. " "My Fallen Comrades. " "The Dust of Our Battlefields. " "Was it a Ghost Story?" "The Unfortunate Chinese. " "Three Scenes in Babylon. " "Three Scenes from the Mount of Olives. " "Americans in Europe. " "General Grant's Empire. " "Princess Elizabeth. " "Guides. " "Success in Life. " "The Undiscovered. " "The Silver Crown, or Born a King. " "Heroism of a Private Life. " "The Jolly Earthquake. " "Heroes and Heroines. " "Garibaldi, or the Power of Blind Faith. " "The Angel's Lily. " "The Life of Columbus. " "Five Million Dollars for the Face of the Moon. " "Henry Ward Beecher. " "That Horrid Turk. " "Cuba's Appeal to the United States. " "Anita, the Feminine Torch. " "Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women. "

His lecturing tours now are confined to the United States, as hischurch duties will not permit him to go farther afield, but so wide ishis fame that a few years ago he declined an offer of $39, 000 for asix months' engagement In Australia. This year (1905) he received anoffer of $50, 000 for two hundred lectures in Australia and England. 

He lectures, as he preaches, with the earnest desire ever uppermostto help some one. He never goes to a lecture engagement without adefinite prayer to God that his words may be so directed as to do somegood to the community or to some individual. When he has delivered"Acres of Diamonds, " he frequently leaves a sum of money with theeditor of the leading paper in the town to be given as a prize for anyone who advances the most practical idea for using waste forces in theneighborhood. In one Vermont town where he had lectured, the money waswon by a young man who after a careful study of the products ofthe neighborhood, said he believed the lumber of that section wasespecially adapted to the making of coffins. A sum of $2, 000 wasraised, the water power harnessed and a factory started. 

A man in Michigan who was on the verge of bankruptcy, having lostheavily in real estate speculation, heard "Acres of Diamonds, " andstarted in, as the lecture advises, right at home to rebuild hisfortunes. Instead of giving up, he began the same business again, fought a plucky fight and is now president of the bank and a leadingfinancier of the town. 

A poor farmer of Western Massachusetts, finding it impossible tomake a living on his stony place, had made up his mind to move andadvertised his farm for sale. He heard "Acres of Diamonds, " took toheart its lessons. "Raise what the people about you need, " it said tohim. He went into the small fruit business and is now a rich man. 

The man who invented the turnout and switch system for electric carsreceived his suggestion from "Acres of Diamonds. "

A baker heard "Acres of Diamonds, " got an idea for an improved ovenand made thousands of dollars from it. 

A teacher in Montrose, Pennsylvania, was so impressed with thepractical ideas in the now famous lecture that he determined to teachwhat his pupils most needed to know. Being in a farming district, headded agricultural chemistry to their studies with such success thatthe next year he was elected principal of one of the Montrose schoolsand shortly afterward was appointed Superintendent of Education andPresident of the State University of Ohio. 

But incidents by the hundreds could be related or practical, helpfulresults that flow from Dr. Conwell's lectures. 

There is yet another side of their helpfulness that the world knowslittle about. In his early lecturing days, he resolved to give hislecture fees to the education of poor boys and faithfully through allthese years has that resolve been kept The Redpath Lyceum Bureau haspaid him nearly $300, 000, and more than $200, 000 of this has gonedirectly to help those poor in purse who hunger after knowledge, as hehimself did in those days at Wilbraham when help would have been sowelcome. The balance has been given to Temple College, which in itselfis the strongest and most helpful hand ever stretched out to thosestruggling for an education. 

In addition to his lectures, he is called upon to make innumerableaddresses at various meetings, public gatherings and conventions. Those who have never heard him speak may gather some idea of theimpression he makes by the following letter written by a gentlemanwho attended the banquet given to President McKinley at the G. A. R. Encampment in Philadelphia in 1899:

"At the table with the President was Russell H. Conwell, and no onenear me could tell me who he was. We mistook him for the new Secretaryof War, until Secretary Root made his speech. There was a highlyintelligent and remarkably representative audience of the nation at amagnificent banquet in the hall decorated regardless of cost. 

"The addresses were all specially good and made by men speciallybefore the nation. Yet all the evening till after midnight therewere continuous interruptions and much noise of voices, dishes, andwaiters. Men at distant tables laughed out often. It was difficult tohear at best, the acoustics were so bad. The speakers took it as amatter of course at such a 'continuous performance. ' Some of theRepresentatives must have thought they were at home in the House atWashington. They listened or not, as they chose. The great hall wasquiet only when the President gave his address, except when theenclosed remarks were made long after midnight, when all were worn outwith speeches. 

"When, about the last thing, Conwell was introduced by the chairman, no one heard his name because of the noise at the tables. Two menasked me who he was. But not two minutes after he began, the placewas still and men craned their necks to catch his words. I never sawanything so magical. I know how you would have enjoyed it. Its effectwas a hot surprise. The revelers all worn; the people ready to gohome; the waiters impatient; the speech wholly extemporaneous. It wasa triumph that did honor to American oratory at its best. The applausewas decisive and deafening. I never heard of anything better doneunder such circumstances. 

"None of the morning papers we could get on the train mentioned eitherConwell or his great speech. Perhaps Conwell asked the reporters tosuppress it. I don't know as to that. But it was the first thing welooked for. Not a word. There is no clue to account for that. Yet thatis the peculiarity of this singular life: one of the most public, oneof the most successful men, but yet one of the least discussed orwritten about. He was to us as visitors the great feature of thatbanquet as a speaker, and yet wholly ignored by the press of his owncity. The United States Senator Penrose seemed only to know in ageneral way that Conwell was a great benefactor and a powerful citizenand preacher. Conwell is a study. I cogitated on him all day. I wastold that he marched throughout the great parade in the rear rank ofhis G. A. R. Post. It is the strangest case of a private life I haveever heard mentioned. The Quakers will wake up resurrection day andfind out Conwell lived in Philadelphia. It is startling to think howmeasureless the influence of such a man is in its effect on the world. Through forty years educating men, healing the sick, caring forchildren, then preaching to a great church, then lecturing in thegreat cities nearly every night, then writing biographies; and also anaccessible counselor to such masses of young people!"

The address referred to in the foregoing letter was taken down inshorthand, and was substantially as follows:

"Comrades: I feel at this moment as Alexander Stephens said he felt atthe close of the war of 1865, and it can well be illustrated by theboasting athlete who declared he could throw out twenty men from aneighboring saloon in five minutes. He requested his friend to standoutside and count as he went in and threw them out. Soon a batteredman was thrown out the door far into the street. The friend began hiscount and shouted, 'One!' But the man in the street staggered to hisfeet and angrily screamed, 'Stop counting! It's me!' When this feastopened I was proudly expecting to make a speech, but the great men whohave preceded me have done all and more than I intended to do. Thehour is spent--they are sounding 'taps' at the door. I could not hopeto hold your attention. It only remains for me to do my duty in behalfof Meade Post, and do it in the briefest possible space. 

"Comrades of Boston and New York, you have heard the greetingswhen you entered the city--you have seen the gorgeous and artisticdecorations on halls and dwellings--you have heard the shouts of themillion and more who pressed into the streets, waved handkerchiefsfrom the stands, and looked over each other's heads from all thewindows and roofs throughout that weary march. Here you see the lovelydecorations, the most costly feast, and listen to the heart-thrilling, soul-subduing orchestra. All of these have already spoken to you anunmistakable message of welcome. Knowing this city as I do, I can sayto you that not one cornet or viol, not one hymn or shout, not onewave in all the clouds which fair hands rolled up, not one gun of allthat shook the city, not one flush of red on a dear face of beauty, not one blessing from the aged on his cane, not one tear on theeyelids which glowed again as your march brought back the gleam of amorning long since dead, not one clasp of the hand, not one 'God blessyou!' from saint or priest in all this fair city, but I believe hasbeen deeply, earnestly, sincere. 

"This repast is not the result of pride--is not arranged for gluttonyor fashion. No political scheme inspired its proposal, and no ulteriormotive moved these companions to take your arm. The joy that seems tobeam in the comrade's eye and unconsciously express itself in word andgesture, is real. It is the hearty love of a comrade who showed hislove for his country by battle in 1862, and who only finds new ways intime of peace for expressing the same character now. The eloquence ofthis night has been unusually, earnestly, practically patriotic andfraternal. It has been the utterance of hearts beating full and strongfor humanity. Loyalty, fraternity, and charity are here in fact. It istrue, honest, heart. Such fraternal greetings may be as important forliberty and justice as the winning of a Gettysburg. For the mightyinfluence of the Grand Army of the Republic is even more potent nowthan it was on that bloody day. Peace has come and the brave menof the North recognize and respect the motives and bravery of thatConfederate army which dealt them such fearful blows believing _they_were in the right. But the glorious peace we enjoy and the greatnessof our nation's name and power are due as much to the living GrandArmy as to the dead. I am getting weary of being counted 'old, ' but Iam more tired of hearing the soldier overpraised for what he did in1861. You have more influence now than then, and are better men inevery sense. At Springfield, Illinois, they illustrated the growth ofthe city by telling me that in 1856 a lunatic preacher applied to Mr. Lincoln for his aid to open the legislative chamber for a series ofmeetings to announce that the Lord was coming at once. Mr. Lincolnrefused, saying, 'If the Lord knew Springfield as well as I do, hewouldn't come within a thousand miles of it. ' But now the legislativehalls are open, and every good finds welcome in that city. The worldgrows better--cities are not worse. The nation has not gone backward, and all the good deeds did not cease in 1865. The Grand Army of theRepublic, speaking plainly but with no sense of egotism, has beenpraised too much for the war and too little for its heroism and powerin peace. Does it make a man an angel to eat hardtack? Or does iteducate in inductive philosophy to chase a pig through a Virginiafence? Peace has its victories no less renowned than war. 

"The Grand Army is not growing old. You all feel younger at thismoment than you did at the close of the day's march. Your work is notfinished. You were not fossilized in 1865. The war was not a nurse, nor was it a very thorough schoolmaster. It did serve, however, toshow to friends and country what kind of men America contained. Not Inor you perhaps can take this pleasing interpretation to ourselves, but looking at the five hundred thousand men who outlived the war, wesee that they were the same men before the war and have remainedthe same since the war. Their ability, friendship, patriotism, andreligion were better known after they had shown their faith by deeds, but their identity and character were in great measure the same. 

"Many of our Presidents have been taken from the ranks of the army. But it would be a mockery of political wisdom to declare that a free, intelligent people elect a chief executive simply to reward him forhaving been in the war of 1861. Captain Garfield, Lieutenant Hayes, Major McKinley, and General Grant were not put at the head of thenation as one would vote a pension. They were elected because thepeople believed them to be the very best statesmen they could selectfor the office. For a time every foreign consul except four was asoldier. Two-thirds of Congress had been in the army. Twenty-ninegovernors in the same year had been in military service. Ninepresidents of universities had been volunteers in 1863. Three thousandpostmasters appointed in one year were from the army. Cabinetofficers, custom-house officers, judges, district attorneys, andclerks in public offices were almost exclusively selected from armymen. Could you look in the face of the nations and declare that withall our enterprise, learning, progress, and common sense, we had suchan inadequate idea of the responsibilities of government that weelected men to office who were incapable, simply because they hadcarried a gun or tripped over a sword! No, no. The shrewd Yankee andthe calculating Hoosier are not caught with such chaff. They selectedthese officers as servants of the nation because the war had served toshow what sort of men they were. 

"In short, they appointed them to high positions because they weretrue men. They are just as true men now. They are as patriotic, asindustrious, as unselfish, as brave to-day as they were in the darkdays of the rebellion. Their efforts are as honest now as they werethen, to perpetuate free institutions and maintain the honor of theflag. 

"They have endowed colleges, built cathedrals, opened the wildernessto railroads, filled the American desert with roses, constructedtelephone, telegraph, and steamship lines. They have stood inclassroom and in the pulpit by the thousand; they have honored ourcourts with their legal acumen; they have covered the plains withcities, and compelled the homage of Europe to secure our scholars, ourwheat and our iron. The soldier has controlled the finances ofbanking systems and revolutionized labor, society, and arts with hisinventions. They saw poor Cuba, beautiful as her surf and femininelysweet as her luscious fruits, tortured in chains. They saw her lovelyform through the blood that covered her, and Dewey, Sampson, Schley, Miles, Merritt, Sigsbee, Evans, Philip, Alger, and McKinley of theGrand Army led the forces to her rescue. The Philippines in thedarkness of half-savage life were brought unexpectedly under ourcolors because Dewey and his commanders were in 1898 just the sameheroes they were in 1864. 

"At the bidding of Meade Post, then, I welcome you and bid youfarewell. This gathering was in the line of duty. Its spectacle hasimpressed the young, inspired the strong man, and comforted the aged. The fraternity here so sincerely expressed to-night will encourage usall to enfold the old flag more tenderly, to love our country moredeeply, and to go on in every path of duty, showing still the spiritof '61 wherever good calls for sacrifice or truth for a defender. "

CHAPTER XXXIV

AS A WRITER

His Rapid Method of Working. A Popular Biographical Writer. The BooksHe Has Written. 

Still the minutes are not full. The man who learned five languageswhile going to and from his business on the street cars of Bostonfinds time always to crowd in one thing more. Despite his multitude ofother cares, Dr. Conwell's pen is not idle. It started to write in hisboyhood days and it has been writing ever since. 

His best known works are his biographies. Charles A. Dana, the famouseditor and publisher of the New York "Sun, " just before his death, wrote to Harper Brothers recommending that Mr. Conwell be secured towrite a series of books for an "American Biographical Library, " and inhis letter said:

"I write the above of my own notion, as I have seldom met Mr. Conwell;but as a writer of biographies he has no superior. Indeed, I can sayconsiderately, that he is one of America's greatest men. He neveradvertises himself, never saves a newspaper clipping concerninghimself, never keeps a sermon of his own, and will not seek applause. You must go after him if you want him. He will not apply to you. Hispersonal history is as fascinating as it is exceptional. He tookhimself as a poor back country lad, created out of the crude materialthe orator which often combines a Webster with Gough, and made himselfa scholar of the first rank. He created from nothing a powerfuluniversity of high rank in Philadelphia, especially for the commonpeople. He created a great and influential church out of a smallunknown parish. He has assisted more men in securing an education thanany other American. He has created a hospital of the first order andextent. He has fed the poor and housed large numbers of orphans. Hehas written many books and has addressed more people than any otherliving man. To do this without writing or dictating a line toadvertise himself is nothing else than the victory of a great genius. He is a gem worth your seeking, valuable anywhere. I say again that Iregard Russell H. Conwell, of Philadelphia, as America's greatest manin the best form. I cannot do your work; he can. "

His most successful biography, his "Life of Charles H. Spurgeon, " waswritten in a little more than two weeks. In fact, it was not writtenat all, it was dictated while on a lecturing trip. When Spurgeon died, a publisher telegraphed Dr. Conwell if he would write a biography ofthe great London preacher. Dr. Conwell was traveling at the time inthe West, lecturing. He wired an affirmative, and sent for his privatesecretary. It was during the building of the College when greatfinancial responsibilities were resting on him, and he was lecturingevery night to raise money for the college building fund. Hissecretary accompanied him on the lecture trip. Dr. Conwell dictatedthe book on the train during the day, the secretary copied it from hisnotes at night while Dr. Conwell lectured. At the end of two weeksthe book of six hundred pages was nearly completed. It had a sale of125, 000 copies in four months. And all the royalties were given to astruggling mission of Grace Baptist Church. 

[Illustration: TEMPLE COLLEGE]

His biography of Elaine was written almost as rapidly. In a few hoursafter Blaine was nominated as candidate of the Republican party forthe presidency. Dr. And Mrs. Conwell boarded a train and started forAugusta, Maine. In three weeks the book was completed. 

He has worked at times from four o'clock in the morning until twelveat night when work pressed and time was short. 

His life of Bayard Taylor was also written quickly. He had traveledwith Taylor through Europe and long been an intimate friend, so thathe was particularly well fitted for the work. The book was begun afterTaylor's death, December 19, 1878, in Germany, and completed beforethe body arrived in America. Five thousand copies were sold before thefuneral. 

Dr. Conwell presided at the memorial service held in Tremont Temple, Boston. Many years after, in a sermon preached at The Temple, he thusdescribed the occasion:

"When Bayard Taylor, the traveler and poet, died, great sorrow wasfelt and exhibited by the people of this nation. I remember well thesadness which was noticed in the city of Boston. The spontaneousdesire to give some expression to the respect in which Hr. Taylor'sname was held, pressed the literary people of Boston, both writers andreaders, forward to a public memorial in the great hall of TremontTemple. As a friend of Mr. Taylor's I was called upon to preside atthat memorial gathering. That audience of the scholarly classes was awonderful tribute to a remarkable man, and one for which. I feel stilla keen sense of gratitude. I remember asking Mr. Longfellow to writea poem, and to read it, and standing on the broad step at his frontdoor, in Cambridge, he replied to my suggestion with the sweetexpression: 'The universal sorrow is almost too sacred to touch with apen. '

"But when the evening came, although Professor Longfellow was too illto be present, his poem was there. The great hall was crowded withthe most cultivated people of Boston. On the platform sat many ofthe poets, orators and philosophers, who have since passed intothe Beyond. When, after several speeches had been made, I arose tointroduce Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, the pressure of the crowd was toogreat for me to reach my chair again, and I took for a time the seatwhich Dr. Holmes had just left, and next to Ralph Waldo Emerson. Never were words of poet listened to with a silence more respectfullyprofound than were the words of Professor Longfellow's poem as theywere so touchingly and beautifully read by Dr. Holmes:

 "'Dead he lay among his books, The peace of God was in his looks!

 * * * * *

 Let the lifeless body rest, He is gone who was its guest. -- Gone as travelers haste to leave An inn, nor tarry until eve! Traveler, in what realms afar, In what planet, in what star, In what vast, aerial space, Shines the light upon thy face? In what gardens of delight Rest thy weary feet to-night--'

 * * * * *

"Before Dr. Holmes resumed his seat, Mr. Emerson whispered in my ear, in his epigrammatic style, 'This is holy Sabbath time. '"

Among the books which Dr. Conwell has written are:

 "Lessons of Travel. " "Why and How Chinese Emigrate. " "Nature's Aristocracy. " "History of the Great Fire in Boston. " "The Life of Gen. U. S. Grant. " "Woman and the Law. " "The life of Rutherford B. Hayes. " "History of the Great Fire in St. Johns. " "The Life of Bayard Taylor. " "The Life, Speeches, and Public Service of James A. Garfield. " "Little Bo. " "Joshua Gianavello. " "The Life of James G. Blaine. " "Acres of Diamonds. " "Gleams of Grace. " "The Life of Charles H. Spurgeon. " "The New Day. "

The manuscript which he prepared most carefully was the "Life ofDaniel Manin, " which was destroyed by fire when his home at NewtonCentre was burned. He had spent much time and labor collecting data onItalian history for it, and the loss was irreparable. 

"Joshua Gianavello" is a biographical story of the great Waldensianchieftain who loved religions liberty and feared neither inquisitionnor death. It is dedicated to "the many believers in the divineprinciple that every person should have the right to worship Godaccording to the dictates of his own conscience; and to the heroicwarriors who are still contending for religious freedom in the yetunfinished battle. "

The same powerful imagination that pictures so realistically to hislecture and church audiences the scenes and people he is describing, makes them live in his books. His style holds the reader by itsvividness of description, its powerful delineation of character andemotion. 

His latest book, "The New Day, " is an amplification of his greatlecture, "Acres of Diamonds. " It is not only delightful reading butit is full of practical help for the affairs of everyday life. Forno matter in what field Dr. Conwell works, this great desire of hislife--to help his brother man--shines out. 

CHAPTER XXXV

A HOME COMING

Reception Tendered by Citizens of Philadelphia in Acknowledgment ofWork as Public Benefactor. 

One more scene in the life of this man who, from a barefoot countryboy with no advantages, has become one of the most widely known of thepreachers, lecturers and writers of the day, as well as the founderof a college and hospital holding an honored position among theinstitutions of the country. 

In 1894, acting upon the advice of his physician, Dr. Conwell wentabroad. It is no unusual thing for pastors to go abroad, nor formembers of their church and friends to see them off. But for GraceBaptist Church personally to wish its pastor "Bon voyage" is somethingof an undertaking. A special train was chartered to take the membersto New York. Here a steamer engaged for the purpose awaited them, andtwelve hundred strong, they steamed down the harbor alongside the "NewYork" that Dr. Conwell's last glimpse of America might be of the facesof his own church family. 

On his return six hundred church members met him and gave him a royalwelcome, and a large reception was held in The Temple to show how gladwere the hearts of his people that he was restored to them in health. 

But it was not enough. The people of Philadelphia said, "This manbelongs to us. " In all parts of the city, in all walks of life, weremen and women who had studied at Temple College, whose lives werehappier, more useful because of the knowledge they had gained there, for whom he had opened these college doors. The Samaritan Hospital hadsent forth people by the hundreds whose bodies had been healed andtheir spirits quickened because his kindly heart had foreseen theirneed and his generous hands labored to help it. Everywhere throughoutthe whole city was felt the leaven of his work, and the people as abody said, "We will show our appreciation of the work he has done forPhiladelphia, we will show that we recognize him as one of the city'sgreatest benefactors and philanthropists. "

A committee of twenty-one citizens was formed, of which the Mayor, Edwin S. Stuart, was chairman, and a reception was tendered Dr. AndMrs. Conwell and the others of his party in the name of the citizensof Philadelphia. It was given at the Academy of Fine Arts. With itspaintings and statuary, its broad sweeping staircases, it made amagnificent setting for the throngs of men and women who crowded topay their respects to this man who had lived among them, doing good. 

The line of waiting guests reached for two blocks and more and forhours moved in steady procession before the receiving party. At lastthe final farewell was said and on toward midnight Dr. Conwell steppedinto the carriage waiting to take him home. 

But the affair was not over. The college boys felt that shaking handsin formal fashion did not express sufficiently their loyalty anddevotion, their joy in the return of their beloved "Prex. " Theyunharnessed the horses, and with college cheers and yells triumphantlydrew their president all the way from the Academy of Fine Arts to hishome, a distance of two miles. As they passed Temple College, theirenthusiasm broke all bounds and they drew up the carriage at theDoctor's residence, two blocks beyond the College, with a yell and aflourish that fairly lifted the neighbors from their beds. 

It was in every way a homecoming and a welcome that proved howwide-reaching has been the work Dr. Conwell has done, how deeply ithas touched the lives of thousands of people in Philadelphia. Thisspontaneous act of appreciation was but the tribute paid by gratefulhearts. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE PATH THAT HAS BEEN BLAZED

Problems that Need Solving. The Need of Men Able to Solve Them. 

 "O do not pray for easy lives Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for Tasks equal to your powers. Pray For powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be No miracle. But you shall be a miracle, Every day you shall wonder at yourself, At the richness of life that has come to you By the Grace of God. "

wrote that great preacher, Phillips Brooks. 

The world does not want easy lives but strong men. Every age has itsproblems. Every age needs men with clear moral vision, strong hands, humane hearts to solve these problems. Character, not the fortune ofbirth, qualifies for leadership in such a work. And such work everwaits, the world over, to be done. In every large city of the countryare thousands crying for better education, the suffering poor areholding up weak hands for help, men and women morally blind, areasking for light to find Christ--the Christ of the Bible, not theChrist of dogma and creed, religion pure and undefiled, the church inthe simplicity of the days of the apostles, the church that reachesout a helping hand to all the needs of humanity. 

Institutional churches are needed, not one, but many of them, in thecities, churches that help men to grapple with the stern actualitiesof everyday life, churches that preach by works as well as by word, churches in which the man in fustian is as welcome as the one inbroadcloth, churches whose influence reaches into the highways andbyways and compels people to come in by the very cordiality andkindness of the invitation, churches that help people to live betterand more happily in this world, while at the same time preparing themfor the world to come. 

"In no other city in the country is there such an example of thequickening force of a united and working church organization asis given by the North Broad Street Temple, Philadelphia, " says aneditorial writer in the Philadelphia "Press. " "Twenty such churchesin this city of 1, 250, 000 people would do more to evangelize it andre-awaken an interest in the vital truths of Christianity than thehundreds of church organizations it now has. The world is demandingmore and better returns from the church for the time and money givenit. Real, practical Christian work is what is asked of the church. Thesooner it conforms to this demand, the more quickly it will regainits old influence and be prepared to make effective its fight againstevil. "

Hospitals are needed that heal in the name of Christ, that heal illsof the body and at the same time by the spirit of love that permeates, by the Christian spirit that animates all connected with them, curethe ills of the soul and send the sufferers away rejoicing in spiritas well as in body, with a brighter outlook on the world and increasedfaith in humankind. 

Colleges are needed the length and breadth of this land, wherever thepoor and ignorant sit in darkness. In every town of five thousand ormore, a college for working people on the lines of the Temple Collegewould be thronged with eager, rejoicing students. And the world is thebetter for every man and woman raised to a higher plane of living. Anylife, no matter how sordid and narrow, how steeped in ignorance, ifswept sweet and clean by God's love, if awakened by ambition and thengiven the opportunity to grow, can be changed into beauty, sweetnessand usefulness. And such work is worth while. 

The way has been blazed, the path has been pointed out, it onlyremains for those who follow after to walk therein. And if they walktherein, they will gain that true greatness and deep happiness whichPhillips Brooks says comes ever "to the man who has given his lifeto his race, who feels that what God gives him, He gives him formankind. "

ACRES OF DIAMONDS

Dr. Conwell's most famous lecture and one of his earliest has beengiven at this writing (October, 1905) 3420 times. The income from itif invested at regular rates of interest would have amounted verynearly to one million dollars. 

PERSONAL GLIMPSES OF CELEBRATED MEN AND WOMEN

Is Dr. Conwell's latest lecture. It is a backward glance over his ownlife in which he tells in his inimitable fashion many of its mostinteresting scenes and incidents. It is here published for the firsttime. 

ACRES OF DIAMONDS. [A]

[Footnote A: Reported by A. Russell Smith and Harry E. Greager. ]

[Mr. Conwell's lectures are all delivered extemporaneously and differgreatly from night to night. --Ed. ]

I am astonished that so many people should care to hear this storyover again. Indeed, this lecture has become a study in psychology;it often breaks all rules of oratory, departs from the precepts ofrhetoric, and yet remains the most popular of any lecture I havedelivered in the forty-four years of my public life. I have sometimesstudied for a year upon a lecture and made careful research, and thenpresented the lecture just once--never delivered it again. I put toomuch work on it. But this had no work on it--thrown together perfectlyat random, spoken offhand without any special preparation, and itsucceeds when the thing we study, work over, adjust to a plan is anentire failure. 

The "Acres of Diamonds" which I have mentioned through so many yearsare to be found in Philadelphia, and you are to find them. Many havefound them. And what man has done, man can do. I could not findanything better to illustrate my thought than a story I have toldover and over again, and which is now found in books in nearly everylibrary. 

In 1870 we went down the Tigris River. We hired a guide at Bagdad toshow us Persepolis, Nineveh and Babylon, and the ancient countries ofAssyria as far as the Arabian Gulf. He was well acquainted with theland, but he was one of those guides who love to entertain theirpatrons; he was like a barber that tells you many stories in order tokeep your mind off the scratching and the scraping. He told me somany stories that I grew tired of his telling them and I refused tolisten--looked away whenever he commenced; that made the guide quiteangry, I remember that toward evening he took his Turkish cap off hishead and swung it around in the air. The gesture I did not understandand I did not dare look at him for fear I should become the victim ofanother story. But, although I am not a woman, I did look, and theinstant I turned my eyes upon that worthy guide he was off again. Saidhe, "I will tell you a story now which I reserve for my particularfriends!" So then, counting myself a particular friend, I listened, and I have always been glad I did. 

He said there once lived not far from the River Indus an ancientPersian by the name of Al Hafed. He said that Al Hafed owned a verylarge farm with orchards, grain fields and gardens. He was a contentedand wealthy man--contented because he was wealthy, and wealthy becausehe was contented. One day there visited this old farmer one of thoseancient Buddhist priests, and he sat down by Al Hafed's fire and toldthat old farmer how this world of ours was made. He said that thisworld was once a mere bank of fog, which is scientifically true, andhe said that the Almighty thrust his finger into the bank of fog andthen began slowly to move his finger around and gradually to increasethe speed of his finger until at last he whirled that bank of foginto a solid ball of fire, and it went rolling through the universe, burning its way through other cosmic banks of fog, until it condensedthe moisture without, and fell in floods of rain upon the heatedsurface and cooled the outward crust. Then the internal flames burstthrough the cooling crust and threw up the mountains and made thehills of the valley of this wonderful world of ours. If this internalmelted mass burst out and cooled very quickly it became granite; thatwhich cooled less quickly became silver; and less quickly, gold; andafter gold diamonds were made. Said the old priest, "A diamond is acongealed drop of sunlight. "

This is a scientific truth also. You all know that a diamond is purecarbon, actually deposited sunlight--and he said another thing I wouldnot forget: he declared that a diamond is the last and highest ofGod's mineral creations, as a woman is the last and highest of God'sanimal creations. I suppose that is the reason why the two have such aliking for each other. And the old priest told Al Hafed that if he hada handful of diamonds he could purchase a whole county, and with amine of diamonds he could place his children upon thrones through theinfluence of their great wealth. Al Hafed heard all about diamondsand how much they were worth, and went to his bed that night apoor man--not that he had lost anything, but poor because he wasdiscontented and discontented because he thought he was poor. He said:"I want a mine of diamonds!" So he lay awake all night, and early inthe morning sought out the priest. Now I know from experience thata priest when awakened early in the morning is cross. He awoke thatpriest out of his dreams and said to him, "Will you tell me where Ican find diamonds?" The priest said, "Diamonds? What do you want withdiamonds?" "I want to be immensely rich, " said Al Hafed, "but I don'tknow where to go. " "Well, " said the priest, "if you will find a riverthat runs over white sand between high mountains, in those sands youwill always see diamonds. " "Do you really believe that there is such ariver?" "Plenty of them, plenty of them; all you have to do is just goand find them, then you have them. " Al Hafed said, "I will go. " So hesold his farm, collected his money at interest, left his family incharge of a neighbor, and away he went in search of diamonds. He beganvery properly, to my mind, at the Mountains of the Moon. Afterwards hewent around into Palestine, then wandered on into Europe, and at lastwhen his money was all spent, and he was in rags, wretchedness andpoverty, he stood on the shore of that bay in Barcelona, Spain, whena tidal wave came rolling in through the Pillars of Hercules and thepoor afflicted, suffering man could not resist the awful temptation tocast himself into that incoming tide, and he sank beneath its foamingcrest, never to rise in this life again. 

When that old guide had told me that very sad story, he stopped thecamel I was riding and went back to fix the baggage on one of theother camels, and I remember thinking to myself, "Why did he reservethat for his _particular friends_?" There seemed to be no beginning, middle or end--nothing to it. That was the first story I ever heardtold or read in which the hero was killed in the first chapter. I hadbut one chapter of that story and the hero was dead. When the guidecame back and took up the halter of my camel again, he went right onwith the same story. He said that Al Hafed's successor led his camelout into the garden to drink, and as that camel put its nose down intothe clear water of the garden brook Al Hafed's successor noticed acurious flash of light from the sands of the shallow stream, andreaching in he pulled out a black stone having an eye of light thatreflected all the colors of the rainbow, and he took that curiouspebble into the house and left it on the mantel, then went on his wayand forgot all about it. A few days after that, this same old priestwho told Al Hafed how diamonds were made, came in to visit hissuccessor, when he saw that flash of light from the mantel. He rushedup and said, "Here is a diamond--here is a diamond! Has Al Hafedreturned?" "No, no; Al Hafed has not returned and that is not adiamond; that is nothing but a stone; we found it right out here inour garden. " "But I know a diamond when I see it, " said he; "that is adiamond!"

Then together they rushed to the garden and stirred up the white sandswith their fingers and found others more beautiful, more valuablediamonds than the first, and thus, said the guide to me, werediscovered the diamond mines of Golconda, the most magnificent diamondmines in all the history of mankind, exceeding the Kimberley in itsvalue. The great Kohinoor diamond in England's crown jewels and thelargest crown diamond on earth in Russia's crown jewels, which I hadoften hoped she would have to sell before they had peace with Japan, came from that mine, and when the old guide had called my attention tothat wonderful discovery he took his Turkish cap off his head againand swung it around in the air to call my attention to the moral. Those Arab guides have a moral to each story, though the stories arenot always moral. He said had Al Hafed remained at home and dug in hisown cellar or in his own garden, instead of wretchedness, starvation, poverty and death in a strange land, he would have had "acres ofdiamonds"--for every acre, yes, every shovelful of that old farmafterwards revealed the gems which since have decorated the crowns ofmonarchs. When he had given the moral to his story, I saw why he hadreserved this story for his "particular friends. " I didn't tell him Icould see it; I was not going to tell that old Arab that I could seeit. For it was that mean old Arab's way of going around a thing, likea lawyer, and saying indirectly what he did not dare say directly, that there was a certain young man that day traveling down the TigrisRiver that might better be at home in America. I didn't tell him Icould see it. 

I told him his story reminded me of one, and I told it to him quick. Itold him about that man out in California, who, in 1847, owned aranch out there. He read that gold had been discovered in SouthernCalifornia, and he sold his ranch to Colonel Sutter and started off tohunt for gold. Colonel Sutter put a mill on the little stream inthat farm and one day his little girl brought some wet sand from theraceway of the mill into the house and placed it before the fire todry, and as that sand was falling through the little girl's fingersa visitor saw the first shining scales of real gold that were everdiscovered in California; and the man who wanted the gold had soldthis ranch and gone away, never to return. I delivered this lecturetwo years ago in California, in the city that stands near that farm, and they told me that the mine is not exhausted yet, and that aone-third owner of that farm has been getting during these recentyears twenty dollars of gold every fifteen minutes of his life, sleeping or waking. Why, you and I would enjoy an income like that!

But the best illustration that I have now of this thought was foundhere in Pennsylvania. There was a man living in Pennsylvania whoowned a farm here and he did what I should do if I had a farm inPennsylvania--he sold it. But before he sold it he concluded to secureemployment collecting coal oil for his cousin in Canada. They firstdiscovered coal oil there. So this farmer in Pennsylvania decided thathe would apply for a position with his cousin in Canada. Now, you see, this farmer was not altogether a foolish man. He did net leave hisfarm until he had something else to do. Of all the simpletons thestars shine on there is none more foolish than a man who leaves onejob before he has obtained another. And that has especial reference togentlemen of my profession, and has no reference to a man seeking adivorce. So I say this old farmer did not leave one job until he hadobtained another. He wrote to Canada, but his cousin replied that hecould not engage him because he did not know anything about the oilbusiness. "Well, then, " said he, "I will understand it. " So he sethimself at the study of the whole subject. He began at the second dayof the creation, he studied the subject from the primitive vegetationto the coal oil stage, until he knew all about it. Then he wrote tohis cousin and said, "Now I understand the oil business. " And hiscousin replied to him, "All right, then, come on. " That man, by therecord of the county, sold his farm for eight hundred and thirty-threedollars--even money, "no cents. " He had scarcely gone from that farmbefore the man who purchased it went out to arrange for the wateringthe cattle and he found that the previous owner had arranged thematter very nicely. There is a stream running down the hillside there, and the previous owner had gone out and put a plank across that streamat an angle, extending across the brook and down edgewise a few inchesunder the surface of the water. The purpose of the plank across thatbrook was to throw over to the other bank a dreadful-looking scumthrough which the cattle would not put their noses to drink above theplank, although they would drink the water on one side below it. Thusthat man who had gone to Canada had been himself damming back fortwenty-three years a flow of coal oil which the State Geologist ofPennsylvania declared officially, as early as 1870, was then worth toour State a hundred millions of dollars. The city of Titusville nowstands on that farm and those Pleasantville wells flow on, and thatfarmer who had studied all about the formation of oil since the secondday of God's creation clear down to the present time, sold that farmfor $833, no cents--again I say "no sense. "

But I need another illustration, and I found that in Massachusetts, and I am sorry I did, because that is my old State. This young man Imention went out of the State to study--went down to Yale College andstudied Mines and Mining. They paid him fifteen dollars a week duringhis last year for training students who were behind their classes inmineralogy, out of hours, of course, while pursuing his own studies. But when he graduated they raised his pay from fifteen dollars toforty-five dollars and offered him a professorship. Then he wentstraight home to his mother and said, "Mother, I won't work forforty-five dollars a week. What is forty-five dollars a week for a manwith a brain like mine! Mother, lets go out to California and stakeout gold claims and be immensely rich. " "Now" said his mother, "it isjust as well to be happy as it is to be rich. "

But as he was the only son he had his way--they always do; and theysold out in Massachusetts and went to Wisconsin, where he went intothe employ of the Superior Copper Mining Company, and he was lost fromsight in the employ of that company at fifteen dollars a week again. He was also to have an interest in any mines that he should discoverfor that company. But I do not believe that he has ever discovered amine--I do not know anything about it, but I do not believe he has. Iknow he had scarcely gone from the old homestead before the farmerwho had bought the homestead went out to dig potatoes, and as he wasbringing them in in a large basket through the front gateway, the endsof the stone wall came so near together at the gate that the baskethugged very tight. So he set the basket on the ground and pulled, first on one side and then on the other side. Our farms inMassachusetts are mostly stone walls, and the farmers have to beeconomical with their gateways in order to have some place to put thestones. That basket hugged so tight there that as he was hauling itthrough he noticed in the upper stone next the gate a block of nativesilver, eight inches square; and this professor of mines and miningand mineralogy, who would not work for forty-five dollars a week, whenhe sold that homestead in Massachusetts, sat right on that stone tomake the bargain. He was brought up there; he had gone back and forthby that piece of silver, rubbed it with his sleeve, and it seemed tosay, "Come now, now, now, here is a hundred thousand dollars. Whynot take me?" But he would not take it. There was no silver inNewburyport; it was all away off--well, I don't know where; he didn't, but somewhere else--and he was a professor of mineralogy. 

I do not know of anything I would enjoy better than to take the wholetime to-night telling of blunders like that I have heard professorsmake. Yet I wish I knew what that man is doing out there in Wisconsin. I can imagine him out there, as he sits by his fireside, and he issaying to his friends, "Do you know that man Conwell that lives inPhiladelphia?" "Oh, yes, I have heard of him. " "And do you know thatman. Jones that lives in that city?" "Yes, I have heard of him. " Andthen he begins to laugh and laugh and says to his friends, "They havedone the same thing I did, precisely. " And that spoils the whole joke, because you and I have done it. 

Ninety out of every hundred people here have made that mistake thisvery day. I say you ought to be rich; you have no right to be poor. Tolive in Philadelphia and not be rich is a misfortune, and it is doublya misfortune, because you could have been rich just as well as bepoor. Philadelphia furnishes so many opportunities. You ought to berich. But persons with certain religious prejudice will ask, "How canyou spend your time advising the rising generation to give their timeto getting money--dollars and cents--the commercial spirit?" Yet Imust say that you ought to spend time getting rich. You and I knowthere are some things more valuable than money; of course, we do. Ah, yes! By a heart made unspeakably sad by a grave on which the autumnleaves now fall, I know there are some things higher and grander andsublimer than money. Well does the man know, who has suffered, thatthere are some things sweeter and holier and more sacred than gold. Nevertheless, the man of common sense also knows that there is not anyone of those things that is not greatly enhanced by the use of money. Money is power. Love is the grandest thing on God's earth, butfortunate the lover who has plenty of money. Money is power; money haspowers; and for a man to say, "I do not want money, " is to say, "I donot wish to do any good to my fellowmen. " It is absurd thus to talk. It is absurd to disconnect them. This is a wonderfully great life, andyou ought to spend your time getting money, because of the power thereis in money. And yet this religious prejudice is so great that somepeople think it is a great honor to be one of God's poor. I am lookingin the faces of people who think just that way. I heard a man oncesay in a prayer meeting that he was thankful that he was one of God'spoor, and then I silently wondered what his wife would say to thatspeech, as she took in washing to support the man while he sat andsmoked on the veranda. I don't want to see any more of that kind ofGod's poor. Now, when a man could have been rich just as well, and heis now weak because he is poor, he has done some great wrong; he hasbeen untruthful to himself; he has been unkind to his fellowmen. Weought to get rich if we can by honorable and Christian methods, andthese are the only methods that sweep us quickly toward the goal ofriches. 

I remember, not many years ago a young theological student who cameinto my office and said to me that he thought it was his duty to comein and "labor with me. " I asked him what had happened, and he said: "Ifeel it is my duty to come in and speak to you, sir, and say that theHoly Scriptures declare that money is the root of all evil. " I askedhim where he found that saying, and he said he found it in the Bible. I asked him whether he had made a new Bible, and he said, no, he hadnot gotten a new Bible, that it was in the old Bible. "Well, " Isaid, "if it is in my Bible, I never saw it. Will you please get thetext-book and let me see it?" He left the room and soon came stalkingin with his Bible open, with all the bigoted pride of the narrowsectarian, who founds his creed on some misinterpretation ofScripture, and he puts the Bible down on the table before me andfairly squealed into my ear, "There it is. You can read it foryourself. " I said to him, "Young man, you will learn, when you get alittle older, that you cannot trust another denomination to read theBible for you. " I said, "Now, you belong to another denomination. Please read it to me, and remember that you are taught in a schoolwhere emphasis is exegesis. " So he took the Bible and read it: "The_love_ of money is the root of all evil. " Then he had it right. TheGreat Book has come back into the esteem and love of the people, andinto the respect of the greatest minds of earth, and now you can quoteit and rest your life and your death on it without more fear. So, whenhe quoted right from the Scriptures he quoted the truth. "The love ofmoney is the root of all evil. " Oh, that is it. It is the worship ofthe means instead of the end, though you cannot reach the end withoutthe means. When a man makes an idol of the money instead of thepurposes for which it may be used, when he squeezes the dollar untilthe eagle squeals, then it is made the root of all evil. Think, if youonly had the money, what you could do for your wife, your child, andfor your home and your city. Think how soon you could endow the TempleCollege yonder if you only had the money and the disposition to giveit; and yet, my friend, people say you and I should not spend the timegetting rich. How inconsistent the whole thing is. We ought to berich, because money has power. I think the best thing for me to do isto illustrate this, for if I say you ought to get rich, I ought, atleast, to suggest how it is done. We get a prejudice against rich menbecause of the lies that are told about them. The lies that are toldabout Mr. Rockefeller because he has two hundred million dollars--somany believe them; yet how false is the representation of that manto the world. How little we can tell what is true nowadays whennewspapers try to sell their papers entirely on some sensation! Theway they lie about the rich men is something terrible, and I do notknow that there is anything to illustrate this better than what thenewspapers now say about the city of Philadelphia. A young man cameto me the other day and said, "If Mr. Rockefeller, as you think, is agood man, why is it that everybody says so much against him?" It isbecause he has gotten ahead of us; that is the whole of it--justgotten ahead of us. Why is it Mr. Carnegie is criticised so sharply byan envious world? Because he has gotten more than we have. If a manknows more than I know, don't I incline to criticise somewhat hislearning? Let a man, stand in a pulpit and preach to thousands, and ifI have fifteen people in my church, and they're all asleep, don't Icriticise him? We always do that to the man who gets ahead of us. Why, the man you are criticising has one hundred millions, and you havefifty cents, and both of you have just what you are worth. One ofthe richest men in this country came into my home and sat down in myparlor and said: "Did you see all those lies about my family in thepaper?" "Certainly I did; I knew they were lies when I saw them. " "Whydo they lie about me the way they do?" "Well", I said to him, "if youwill give me your check for one hundred millions, I will take all thelies along with it" "Well, " said he, "I don't see any sense in theirthus talking about my family and myself. Conwell, tell me frankly, what do you think the American people think of me?" "Well, " said I, "they think you are the blackest-hearted villain that ever trod thesoil!" "But what can I do about it?" There is nothing he can do aboutit, and yet he is one of the sweetest Christian men I ever knew. Ifyou get a hundred millions you will have the lies; you will be liedabout, and you can judge your success in any line by the lies that aretold about you. I say that you ought to be rich. But there are evercoming to me young men who say, "I would like to go into business, but I cannot. " "Why not?" "Because I have no capital to begin on. "Capital, capital to begin on! What! young man! Living in Philadelphiaand looking at this wealthy generation, all of whom began as poorboys, and you want capital to begin on? It is fortunate for you thatyou have no capital. I am glad you have no money. I pity a rich man'sson. A rich man's son in these days of ours occupies a very difficultposition. They are to be pitied. A rich man's son cannot know the verybest things in human life. He cannot. The statistics of Massachusettsshow us that not one out of seventeen rich men's sons ever die rich. They are raised in luxury, they die in poverty. Even if a rich man'sson retains his father's money even then he cannot know the bestthings of life. 

A young man in our college yonder asked me to formulate for him whatI thought was the happiest hour in a man's history, and I studied itlong and came back convinced that the happiest hour that any man eversees in any earthly matter is when a young man takes his bride overthe threshold of the door, for the first time, of the house he himselfhas earned and built, when he turns to his bride and with an eloquencegreater than any language of mine, he sayeth to his wife, "My lovedone, I earned this home myself; I earned it all. It is all mine, andI divide it with thee. " That is the grandest moment a human heart mayever see. But a rich man's son cannot know that. He goes into a finermansion, it may be, but he is obliged to go through the house and say, "Mother gave me this, mother gave me that, my mother gave me that, my mother gave me that, " until his wife wishes she had married hismother. Oh, I pity a rich man's son. I do. Until he gets so far alongin his dudeism that he gets his arms up like that and can't get themdown. Didn't you ever see any of them astray at Atlantic City? I sawone of these scarecrows once and I never tire thinking about it. I wasat Niagara Falls lecturing, and after the lecture I went to the hotel, and when I went up to the desk there stood there a millionaire's sonfrom New York. He was an indescribable specimen of anthropologicpotency. He carried a gold-headed cane under his arm--more in its headthan he had in his. I do not believe I could describe the young man ifI should try. But still I must say that he wore an eye-glass he couldnot see through; patent leather shoes he could not walk in, and pantshe could not sit down in--dressed like a grasshopper! Well, this humancricket came up to the clerk's desk just as I came in. He adjusted hisunseeing eye-glass in this wise and lisped to the clerk, because it's"Hinglish, you know, " to lisp: "Thir, thir, will you have the kindnessto fuhnish me with thome papah and thome envelopehs!" The clerkmeasured that man quick, and he pulled out a drawer and took someenvelopes and paper and cast them across the counter and turned awayto his books. You should have seen that specimen of humanity when thepaper and envelopes came across the counter--he whose wants had alwaysbeen anticipated by servants. He adjusted his unseeing eye-glass andhe yelled after that clerk: "Come back here thir, come right backhere. Now, thir, will you order a thervant to take that papah andthothe envelopes and carry them to yondah dethk. " Oh, the poormiserable, contemptible American monkey! He couldn't carry paper andenvelopes twenty feet. I suppose he could not get his arms down. Ihave no pity for such travesties of human nature. If you have nocapital, I am glad of it You don't need capital; you need commonsense, not copper cents. 

A. T. Stewart, the great princely merchant of New York, the richest manin America in his time, was a poor boy; he had a dollar and a half andwent into the mercantile business. But he lost eighty-seven and a halfcents of his first dollar and a half because he bought some needlesand thread and buttons to sell, which people didn't want. Are youpoor? It is because you are not wanted and are left on your own hands. There was the great lesson. Apply it whichever way you will it comesto every single person's life, young or old. He did not know whatpeople needed, and consequently bought something they didn't want, andhad the goods left on his hands a dead loss. A. T. Stewart earned therethe great lesson of his mercantile life and said, "I will never buyanything more until I first learn what the people want; then I'll makethe purchase. " He went around to the doors and asked them what theydid want, and when he found out what they wanted, he invested hissixty-two and a hall cents and began to supply "a known demand. " Icare not what your profession or occupation in life may be; I care notwhether you are a lawyer, a doctor, a housekeeper, teacher or whateverelse, the principle is precisely the same. We must know what the worldneeds first and then invest ourselves to supply that need, and successis almost certain. A. T. Stewart went on until he was worth fortymillions. "Well, " you will say, "a man can do that in New York, butcannot do it here in Philadelphia. " The statistics very carefullygathered in New York in 1889 showed one hundred and seven millionairesin the city worth over ten millions apiece. It was remarkable andpeople think they must go there to get rich. Out of that one hundredand seven millionaires only seven of them made their money in NewYork, and the others moved to New York after their fortunes were made, and sixty-seven out of the remaining hundred made their fortunes intowns of less than six thousand people, and the richest man inthe country at that time lived in a town of thirty-five hundredinhabitants, and always lived there and never moved away. It is notso much where you are as what you are. But at the same time if thelargeness of the city comes into the problem, then remember it is thesmaller city that furnishes the great opportunity to make the millionsof money. The best illustration that I can give is in reference toJohn Jacob Astor, who was a poor boy and who made all the money of theAstor family. He made more than his successors have ever earned, andyet he once held a mortgage on a millinery store in New York, andbecause the people could not make enough money to pay the interest andthe rent, he foreclosed the mortgage and took possession of the storeand went into partnership with the man who had failed. He kept thesame stock did not give them a dollar of capital, and he left themalone and went out and sat down upon a bench in the park. Out there onthat bench in the park he had the most important, and to my mind, thepleasantest part of that partnership business. He was watching theladies as they went by; and where is the man that wouldn't get richat that business? But when John Jacob Astor saw a lady pass, with hershoulders back and her head up, as if she did not care if the wholeworld looked on her, he studied her bonnet; and before that bonnetwas out of sight he knew the shape of the frame and the color of thetrimmings, the curl of the--something on a bonnet Sometimes I try todescribe a woman's bonnet, but it is of little use, for it would beout of style to-morrow night. So John Jacob Astor went to the storeand said: "Now, put in the show window just such a bonnet as Idescribe to you because, " said he, "I have just seen a lady who likesjust such a bonnet. Do not make up any more till I come back. " And hewent out again and sat on that bench in the park, and another lady ofa different form and complexion passed him with a bonnet of differentshape and color, of course. "Now, " said he, "put such a bonnet as thatin the show window. " He didn't fill his show window with hats andbonnets which drive people away and then sit in the back of the storeand bawl because the people go somewhere else to trade. He didn't puta hat or bonnet in that show window the like of which he had not seenbefore it was made up. 

In our city especially there are great opportunities formanufacturing, and the time has come when the line is drawn verysharply between the stockholders of the factory and their employés. Now, friends, there has also come a discouraging gloom upon thiscountry and the laboring men are beginning to feel that they are beingheld down by a crust over their heads through which they find itimpossible to break, and the aristocratic money-owner himself is sofar above that he will never descend to their assistance. That is thethought that is in the minds of our people. But, friends, never in thehistory of our country was there an opportunity so great for the poorman to get rich as there is now and in the city of Philadelphia. Thevery fact that they get discouraged is what prevents them from gettingrich. That is all there is to it. The road is open, and let us keep itopen between the poor and the rich. I know that the labor unions havetwo great problems to contend with, and there is only one way to solvethem. The labor unions are doing as much to prevent its solving as arethe capitalists to-day, and there are positively two sides to it. Thelabor union has two difficulties; the first one is that it began tomake a labor scale for all classes on a par, and they scale down a manthat can earn five dollars a day to two and a half a day, in order tolevel up to him an imbecile that cannot earn fifty cents a day. Thatis one of the most dangerous and discouraging things for the workingman. He cannot get the results of his work if he do better work orhigher work or work longer; that is a dangerous thing, and in order toget every laboring man free and every American equal to every otherAmerican, let the laboring man ask what he is worth and get it--notlet any capitalist say to him: "You shall work for me for half of whatyou are worth;" nor let any labor organization say: "You shall work forthe capitalist for half your worth. " Be a man, be independent, andthen shall the laboring man find the road ever open from poverty towealth. The other difficulty that the labor union has to consider, andthis problem they have to solve themselves, is the kind of orators whocome and talk to them about the oppressive rich. I can in mydreams recite the oration I have heard again and again under suchcircumstances. My life has been with the laboring man. I am a laboringman myself. I have often, in their assemblies, heard the speech of theman who has been invited to address the labor union. The man gets upbefore the assembled company of honest laboring men and he begins bysaying: "Oh, ye honest, industrious laboring men, who have furnishedall the capital of the world, who have built all the palaces andconstructed all the railroads and covered the ocean with hersteamships. Oh, you laboring men! You are nothing but slaves; you areground down in the dust by the capitalist who is gloating over you ashe enjoys his beautiful estates and as he has his banks filled withgold, and every dollar he owns is coined out of the hearts' blood ofthe honest laboring man. " Now, that is a lie, and you know it is alie; and yet that is the kind of speech that they are all the timehearing, representing the capitalists as wicked and the laboring menso enslaved. Why, how wrong it is! Let the man who loves his flag andbelieves in American principles endeavor with all his soul to bringthe capitalist and the laboring man together until they stand side byside, and arm in arm, and work for the common good of humanity. 

He is an enemy to his country who sets capital against labor or laboragainst capital. 

Suppose I were to go down through this audience and ask you tointroduce me to the great inventors who live here in Philadelphia. "The inventors of Philadelphia, " you would say "Why we don't have anyin Philadelphia. It is too slow to invent anything. " But you do havejust as great inventors, and they are here in this audience, as everinvented a machine. But the probability is that the greatest inventorto benefit the world with his discovery is some person, perhaps somelady, who thinks she could not invent anything. Did you ever study thehistory of invention and see how strange it was that the man who madethe greatest discovery did it without any previous idea that he was aninventor? Who are the great inventors? They are persons with plain, straightforward common sense, who saw a need in the world andimmediately applied themselves to supply that need. If you want toinvent anything, don't try to find it in the wheels in your head northe wheels in your machine, but first find out what the people need, and then apply yourself to that need, and this leads to invention onthe part of people you would not dream of before. The great inventorsare simply great men; the greater the man the more simple the man; andthe more simple a machine, the more valuable it is. Did you ever knowa really great man? His ways are so simple, so common, so plain, thatyou think any one could do what he is doing. So it is with the greatmen the world over. If you know a really great man, a neighbor ofyours, you can go right up to him and say, "How are you, Jim, goodmorning, Sam. " Of course you can, for they are always so simple. 

When I wrote the life of General Garfield, one of his neighbors tookme to his back door, and shouted, "Jim, Jim, Jim!" and very soon "Jim"came to the door and General Garfield let me in--one of the grandestmen of our century. The great men of the world are ever so. I was downin Virginia and went up to an educational institution and was directedto a man who was setting out a tree. I approached him and said, "Doyou think it would be possible for me to see General Robert B. Lee, the President of the University?" He said, "Sir, I am General Lee. "Of course, when you meet such a man, so noble a man as that, you willfind him a simple, plain man. Greatness is always just so modest andgreat inventions are simple. 

I asked a class in school once who were the great inventors, and alittle girl popped up and said, "Columbus. " Well, now, she was not sofar wrong. Columbus bought a farm and he carried on that farm just asI carried on my father's farm. He took a hoe and went out and sat downon a rock. But Columbus, as he sat upon that shore and looked out uponthe ocean, noticed that the ships, as they sailed away, sank deeperinto the sea the farther they went. And since that time some other"Spanish ships" have sunk into the sea. But as Columbus noticed thatthe tops of the masts dropped down out of sight, he said: "That is theway it is with this hoe handle; if you go around this hoe handle, thefarther off you go the farther down you go. I can sail around to theEast Indies. " How plain it all was. How simple the mind--majesticlike the simplicity of a mountain in its greatness. Who are the greatinventors? They are ever the simple, plain, everyday people who seethe need and set about to supply it. 

I was once lecturing in North Carolina, and the cashier of the banksat directly behind a lady who wore a very large hat. I said to thataudience, "Your wealth is too near to you; you are looking right overit. " He whispered to his friend, "Well, then, my wealth is in thathat. " A little later, as he wrote me, I said, "Wherever there is ahuman need there is a greater fortune than a mine can furnish. " Hecaught my thought, and he drew up his plan for a better hat pin thanwas in the hat before him, and the pin is now being manufactured. Hewas offered fifty-five thousand dollars for his patent. That manmade his fortune before he got out of that hall. This is the wholequestion: Do you see a need?

I remember well a man up in my native hills, a poor man, who fortwenty years was helped by the town in his poverty, who owned awide-spreading maple tree that covered the poor man's cottage likea benediction from on high. I remember that tree, for in thespring--there were some roguish boys around that neighborhood when Iwas young--in the spring of the year the man would put a bucket thereand the spouts to catch the maple sap, and I remember where thatbucket was; and when I was young the boys were, oh, so mean, thatthey went to that tree before than man had gotten out of bed in themorning, and after he had gone to bed at night, and drank up thatsweet sap. I could swear they did it. He didn't make a great deal ofmaple sugar from that tree. But one day he made the sugar so whiteand crystaline that the visitor did not believe it was maple sugar;thought maple sugar must be red or black. He said to the old man: "Whydon't you make it that way and sell it for confectionary?" The old mancaught his thought and invented the "rock maple crystal, " and beforethat patent expired he had ninety thousand dollars and had built abeautiful palace on the site of that tree. After forty years owningthat tree he awoke to find it had fortunes of money indeed in it. Andmany of us are right by the tree that has a fortune for us, and we ownit, possess it, do what we will with it, but we do not learn its valuebecause we do not see the human need, and in these discoveries, andinventions this is one of the most romantic things of life. 

I have received letters from all over the country and from England, where I have lectured, saying that they have discovered this and that, and one man out in Ohio took me through his great factories lastspring, and said that they cost him $680, 000, and said he, "I wasnot worth a cent in the world when I heard your lecture "Acres ofDiamonds"; but I made up my mind to stop right here and make myfortune here, and here it is. " He showed me through his unmortgagedpossessions. And this is a continual experience now as I travelthrough the country, after these many years. I mention this incident, not to boast, but to show you that you can do the same if you will. 

Who are the great inventors? I remember a good illustration in a manwho used to live in East Brookfield, Mass. He was a shoemaker, and hewas out of work, and he sat around the house until his wife told him"to go out doors. " And he did what every husband is compelled by lawto do--he obeyed his wife. And he went out and sat down on an ashbarrel in his back yard. Think of it! Stranded on an ash barrel andthe enemy in possession of the house! As he sat on that ash barrel, helooked down into that little brook which ran through that back yardinto the meadows, and he saw a little trout go flashing up the streamand hiding under the bank. I do not suppose he thought of Tennyson'sbeautiful poem:

 "Chatter, chatter, as I flow, To join the brimming river, Men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever. "

But as this man looked into the brook, he leaped off that ash barreland managed to catch the trout with his fingers, and sent it toWorcester. They wrote back that they would give him a five dollar billfor another such trout as that, not that it was worth that much, buthe wished to help the poor man. So this shoemaker and his wife, nowperfectly united, that five dollar bill in prospect went out to getanother trout They went up the stream to its source and down to thebrimming river, but not another trout could they find in the wholestream; and so they came home disconsolate and went to the minister. The minister didn't know how trout grew, but he pointed the way. Saidhe, "Get Seth Green's book, and that will give you the information youwant. " They did so, and found all about the culture of trout. Theyfound that a trout lays thirty-six hundred eggs every year and everytrout gains a quarter of a pound every year, so that in four years alittle trout will furnish four tons per annum to sell to the marketat fifty cents a pound. When they found that, they said they didn'tbelieve any such story as that, but if they could get five dollars apiece they could make something. And right in that same back yard withthe coal sifter up stream and window screen down the stream, theybegan the culture of trout. They afterwards moved to the Hudson, andsince then he has become the authority in the United States upon theraising of fish, and he has been next to the highest on the UnitedStates Fish Commission in Washington. My lesson is that man's wealthwas out there in his back yard for twenty years, but he didn't see ituntil his wife drove him out with a mop stick. 

I remember meeting personally a poor carpenter of Hingham, Massachusetts, who was out of work and in poverty. His wife also drovehim out of doors. He sat down on the shore and whittled a soakedshingle into a wooden chain. His children quarreled over it in theevening, and while he was whittling a second one, a neighbor camealong and said, "Why don't you whittle toys if you can carve likethat?" He said, "I don't know what to make!" There is the whole thing. His neighbor said to him: "Why don't you ask your own children?" Saidhe, "What is the use of doing that? My children are different fromother people's children. " I used to see people like that when I taughtschool. The next morning when his boy came down the stairway, he said, "Sam, what do you want for a toy?" "I want a wheel-barrow. " When hislittle girl came down he asked her what she wanted, and she said, "Iwant a little doll's washstand, a little doll's carriage, a littledoll's umbrella, " and went on with a whole lot of things that wouldhave taken his lifetime to supply. He consulted his own children rightthere in his own house and began to whittle out toys to please them. He began with his jack-knife, and made those unpainted Hingham toys. He is the richest man in the entire New England States, if Mr. Lawsonis to be trusted in his statement concerning such things, and yetthat man's fortune was made by consulting his own children in his ownhouse. You don't need to go out of your own house to find out what toinvent or what to make. I always talk too long on this subject. 

I would like to meet the great men who are here to-night. The greatmen! We don't have any great men in Philadelphia. Great men! Yousay that they all come from London, or San Francisco, or Rome, or Manayunk, or anywhere else but here--anywhere else butPhiladelphia--and yet, in fact, there are just as great men inPhiladelphia as in any city of its size. There are great men and womenin this audience. Great men, I have said, are very simple men. Just asmany great men here as are to be found anywhere. The greatest error injudging great men is that we think that they always hold an office. The world knows nothing of its greatest men. Who are the great men ofthe world? The young man and young woman may well ask the question. Itis not necessary that they should hold an office, and yet that is thepopular idea. That is the idea we teach now in our high schools andcommon schools, that the great men of the world are those who holdsome high office, and unless we change that very soon and do awaywith that prejudice, we are going to change to an empire. There isno question about it. We must teach that men are great only on theirintrinsic value, and not on the position that they may incidentallyhappen to occupy. And yet, don't blame the young men saying that theyare going to be great when they get into some official position. I askthis audience again who of you are going to be great? Says a youngman: "I am going to be great" "When are you going to be great?" "WhenI am elected to some political office, " Won't you learn the lesson, young man; that it is _prima facie_ evidence of littleness to holdpublic office under our form of government? Think of it. This is agovernment of the people, and by the people, and for the people, andnot for the office-holder, and if the people in this country rule asthey always should rule, an officeholder is only the servant of thepeople, and the Bible says that "the servant cannot be greater thanhis master, " The Bible says that "he that is sent cannot be greaterthan him who sent him. " In this country the people are the masters, and the office-holders can never be greater than the people; theyshould be honest servants of the people, but they are not our greatestmen. Young man, remember that you never heard of a great man holdingany political office in this country unless he took that office at anexpense to himself. It is a loss to every great man to take a publicoffice in our country. Bear this in mind, young man, that you cannotbe made great by a political election. Another young man says, "I amgoing to be a great man in Philadelphia some time. " "Is that so? Whenare you going to be great?" "When there comes another war! When we getinto difficulty with Mexico, or England, or Russia, or Japan, or withSpain again over Cuba, or with New Jersey, I will march up to thecannon's mouth, and amid the glistening bayonets I will tear downtheir flag from its staff, and I will come home with stars on myshoulders, and hold every office in the gift of the government, and Iwill be great. " "No, you won't! No, you won't; that is no evidenceof true greatness, young man. " But don't blame that young man forthinking that way; that is the way he is taught in the high school. That is the way history is taught in college. He is taught that themen who held the office did all the fighting. 

I remember we had a Peace Jubilee here in Philadelphia soon after theSpanish war. Perhaps some of those visitors think we should not havehad it until now in Philadelphia, and as the great procession wasgoing up Broad street I was told that the tally-ho coach stopped rightin front of my house, and on the coach was Hobson, and all the peoplethrew up their hats and swung their handkerchiefs, and shouted "Hurrahfor Hobson!" I would have yelled too, because he deserves much more ofhis country than he has ever received. But suppose I go into the HighSchool to-morrow and ask, "Boys, who sunk the Merrimac?" If theyanswer me "Hobson, " they tell me seven-eighths of a lie--seven-eighthsof a lie, because there were eight men who sunk the Merrimac. Theother seven men, by virtue of their position, were continually exposedto the Spanish fire, while Hobson, as an officer, might reasonably bebehind the smoke-stack. Why, my friends, in this intelligent audiencegathered here to-night I do not believe I could find a single personthat can name the other seven men who were with Hobson. Why do weteach history in that way? We ought to teach that however humble thestation a man may occupy, if he does his full duty in his place, he isjust as much entitled to the American peopled honor as is a king upona throne. We do teach it as a mother did her little boy in Now Yorkwhen he said, "Mamma, what great building is that?" "That is GeneralGrant's tomb. " "Who was General Grant?" "He was the man who put downthe rebellion. " Is that the way to teach history?

Do you think we would have gained a victory if it had depended onGeneral Grant alone? Oh, no. Then why is there a tomb on the Hudson atall? Why, not simply because General Grant was personally a great manhimself, but that tomb is there because he was a representative manand represented two hundred thousand men who went down to death fortheir nation and many of them as great as General Grant. That is whythat beautiful tomb stands on the heights over the Hudson. 

I remember an incident that will illustrate this, the only one that Ican give to-night. I am ashamed of it, but I don't dare leave it out. I close my eyes now; I look back through the years to 1863; I can seemy native town in the Berkshire Hills, I can see that cattle-showground filled with people; I can see the church there and the townhall crowded, and hear bands playing, and see flags flying andhandkerchiefs steaming--well do I recall at this moment that day. The people had turned out to receive a company of soldiers, and thatcompany came marching up on the Common. They had served out one termin the Civil War and had re-enlisted, and they were being receivedby their native townsmen. I was but a boy, but I was captain of thatcompany, puffed out with pride on that day--why, a cambric needlewould have burst me all to pieces. As I marched on the Common at thehead of my company, there was not a man more proud than I. We marchedinto the town hall and then they seated my soldiers down in the centerof the house and I took my place down on the front seat, and then thetown officers filed through the great throng of people, who stoodclose and packed in that little hall. They came up on the platform, formed a half circle around it, and the mayor of the town, the"chairman of the Select men" in Kew England, took his seat in themiddle of that half circle, He was an old man, his hair was gray; henever held an office before in his life. He thought that an office wasall he needed to be a truly great man, and when he came up he adjustedhis powerful spectacles and glanced calmly around the audience withamazing dignity. Suddenly his eyes fell upon me, and then the good oldman came right forward and invited me to come up on the stand with thetown officers. Invited me up on the stand! No town officer ever tooknotice of me before I went to war. Now, I should not say that. Onetown officer was there who advised the teacher to "whale" me, but Imean no "honorable mention. " So I was invited up on the stand with thetown officers. I took my seat and let my sword fall on the floor, andfolded my arms across my breast and waited to be received. Napoleonthe Fifth! Pride goeth before destruction and a fall. When I hadgotten my seat and all became silent through the hall, the chairman ofthe Select men arose and came forward with great dignity to the table, and we all supposed he would introduce the Congregational minister, who was the only orator in the town, and who would give the orationto the returning soldiers. But, friends, you should have seen thesurprise that ran over that audience when they discovered that thisold farmer was going to deliver that oration himself. He had nevermade a speech in his life before, but he fell into the same error thatothers have fallen into, he seemed to think that the office would makehim an orator. So he had written out a speech and walked up and downthe pasture until he had learned it by heart and frightened thecattle, and he brought that manuscript with him, and taking it fromhis pocket, he spread it carefully upon the table. Then he adjustedhis spectacles to be sure that he might see it, and walked far back onthe platform and then stepped forward like this. He must have studiedthe subject much, for he assumed an elocutionary attitude; he restedheavily upon his left heel, slightly advanced the right foot, threwback his shoulders, opened the organs of speech, and advanced hisright hand at an angle of forty-five. As he stood in that elocutionaryattitude this is just the way that speech went, this is it precisely. Some of my friends have asked me if I do not exaggerate it, but Icould not exaggerate it. Impossible! This is the way it went; althoughI am not here for the story but the lesson that is back of it:

"Fellow citizens. " As soon as he heard his voice, his hand began toshake like that, his knees began to tremble, and then he shook allover. He coughed and choked and finally came around to look at hismanuscript. Then he began again: "Fellow citizens: We--are--we are--weare--we are--We are very happy--we are very happy--we are veryhappy--to welcome back to their native town these soldiers who havefought and bled--and come back again to their native town. We areespecially--we are especially--we are especially--we are especiallypleased to see with us to-day this young hero (that meant me)--thisyoung hero who in imagination (friends, remember, he said"imagination, " for if he had not said that, I would not be egotisticalenough to refer to it)--this young hero who, in imagination, we haveseen leading his troops--leading--we have seen leading--we haveseen leading his troops on to the deadly breach. We have seen hisshining--his shining--we have seen his shining--we have seen hisshining--his shining sword--flashing in the sunlight as he shouted tohis troops, 'Come on!'"

Oh, dear, dear, dear, dear! How little that good, old man knew aboutwar. If he had known anything about war, he ought to have known whatany soldier in this audience knows is true, that it is next to a crimefor an officer of infantry ever in time of danger to go ahead of hismen. I, with my shining sword flashing in the sunlight, shouting to mytroops: "Come on. " I never did it. Do you suppose I would go ahead ofmy men to be shot in the front by the enemy and in the back by my ownmen? That is no place for an officer. The place for the officer isbehind the private soldier in actual fighting. How often, as a staffofficer, I rode down the line when the Rebel cry and yell was comingout of the woods, sweeping along over the fields, and shouted, "Officers to the rear! Officers to the rear!" and then every officergoes behind the line of battle, and the higher the officer's rank, the farther behind he goes. Not because he is any the less brave, butbecause the laws of war require that to be done. If the general cameup on the front line and were killed you would lose your battleanyhow, because he has the plan of the battle in his brain, and mustbe kept in comparative safety. I, with my "shining sword flashing inthe sunlight. " Ah! There sat in the hall that day men who had giventhat boy their last hardtack, who had carried him on their backsthrough deep rivers. But some were not there; they had gone down todeath for their country. The speaker mentioned them, but they were butlittle noticed, and yet they had gone down to death for their country, gone down for a cause they believed was right and still believe wasright, though I grant to the other side the same that I ask formyself. Yet these men who had actually died for their country werelittle noticed, and the hero of the hour was this boy. Why was he thehero? Simply because that man fell into that same foolishness. Thisboy was an officer, and those were only private soldiers. I learneda lesson that I will never forget. Greatness consists not in holdingsome office; greatness really consists in doing some great deed withlittle means, in the accomplishment of vast purposes from the privateranks of life; that is true greatness. He who can give to this peoplebetter streets, better homes, better schools, better churches, morereligion, more of happiness, more of God, he that can be a blessing tothe community in which he lives to-night will be great anywhere, buthe who cannot be a blessing where he now lives will never be greatanywhere on the face of God's earth. "We live in deeds, not years, infeeling, not in figures on a dial; in thoughts, not breaths; we shouldcount time by heart throbs, in the cause of right. " Bailey says: "Hemost lives who thinks most. "

If you forget everything I have said to you, do not forget this, because it contains more in two lines than all I have said. Baileysays: "He most lives who thinks most, who feels the noblest, and whoacts the best. "

"PERSONAL GLIMPSES OF CELEBRATED MEN AND WOMEN. "[A]

[Footnote A: Stenographic report by A. Russell Smith, Sec'y. ]

When I had been lecturing forty years, which is now four years ago, the Lecture Bureau suggested that before I retire from the publicplatform, that I should prepare one subject and deliver it through thecountry. For I had told the Bureau thirty years ago that when I hadlectured forty years, I would retire. They therefore suggested a talkon this topic, "Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women. " But adeath in our family which destroyed the homeness of our house producedsuch an effect upon us that after the forty years came we found thatwe would rather wander than stay at home, and consequently we aretraveling still, and will do so until the end. This explanation willshow why many of these things are said. For I must necessarily bringmyself often into this topic, sometimes unpleasantly to myself. MarkTwain says, that the trouble with an old man is that he "remembers somany things that ain't so, " and with Mark Twain's caution in my ears, I will try to give you these "Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men andWomen. "

I do not claim to be a very intimate friend of great men. But a flymay look at an elephant, and for this reason we may glance at thegreat men and women whom I have seen through the many years of publiclife. Sometimes those glimpses give us a better idea of the real manor woman than an entire biography written while he was living woulddo; and to-night as a grandfather would bring his grandchildren to hisknee and tell them of his little experiences, so let me tell to youthese incidents in a life now so largely lived out. 

As I glance back to the Hampshire Highlands of the dear old BerkshireHills in Massachusetts, where my father worked as a farmer among therooks for twenty years to pay off a mortgage of twelve hundred dollarsupon his little farm, my elder brother and myself slept in the atticwhich had one window in the gable end, composed of four lights andthose very small. I remember that attic so distinctly now, with theears of corn hung by the husks on the bare rafters, the rats runningover the floor and sometimes over the faces of the boys; the patter ofthe rain upon the roof, and the whistle of the wind around that gableend, the sifting of the snows through the hole in the window overthe pillow on our bed. While these things may appear very simple andhomely before this great audience, yet I mention them because in thishouse I had a glimpse of the first great man I ever saw. It was far inthe country, far from the railroad, far from the city, yet intothat region there came occasionally a man or woman whose name is ahousehold word in the world. In those mountains of my boyhood therewas then an "underground railroad" running from Virginia to Canada. It was called an "underground railroad, " although it was a systemby which the escaped slaves from Virginia came into Delaware, fromDelaware into Philadelphia, then to New York, then to Springfield, andfrom Springfield my father took the slaves by night to Worthington, Mass. , and they were sent on by St. Albans, over the Canada line intoliberty. This "underground railroad" system was composed of a chain ofmen of whom my father was one link. One night my father drove up inthe dark, and my elder brother and I looked out to see who it was hehad! brought home with him. We supposed he had brought a slave whom hewas helping to escape. Oh, those dreary, dark days, when we werein continual dread lest the United States Marshal should arrest myfather, throw him into prison for thus assisting these fugitiveslaves. The gloomy memory of those early years chills me now. But aswe gazed out that dark night, we saw that it was a white man withfather and who helped unhitch the horses and put them in the barn. Inthe morning this white man sat at the breakfast table and my fatherintroduced him to us, saying: "Boys, this is Frederick Douglass, thegreat colored orator, " While I looked at him, giggling as boys willdo, Mr. Douglass turned to us and said, "Yes, boys, I am a coloredman; my mother was a colored woman and my father a white man, " andsaid he, "I have never seen my father, and I do not know much aboutmy mother. I remember her once when she interfered between me and theoverseer, who was whipping me, and she received the lash upon hercheek and shoulder, and her blood ran across my face. I rememberwashing her blood from my face and clothes. " That story made a deepimpression on us boys, stamped indelibly on our memories. FrederickDouglass is thus mentioned to illustrate the subject that I have cometo teach to-night. He frequently came to our house after that and mymother often said to him, "Mr. Douglass, you will work yourself todeath, " but he replied that until the slaves were free, and that wouldbe very soon, he must devote his life to them. But after that, saidhe, "I will retire to Rochester, New York, where I have some land andwill build a house. " He told us how many rooms it would have, whatdecorations would be there, but when the war had been over severalyears, he came to the house again and my father asked him about thehouse in Rochester. "Well, " he said, "I have not built that one yet, but I have my plans for it. I have some work yet to do; I must takecare of the freedmen in the South, and look after their financialprosperity, then I will build my cottage. " You all remember that henever built his house, but suddenly went on into the unknown of thegreatest work of his life. 

I remember that in 1852, my father came with another man who was putfor the night into the northwest bedroom--this is the room where thoseNew Englanders always put their friends, because, perhaps, pneumoniacomes there first--that awful, cold, dismal, northwest bedroom. Thinking a favorite uncle had come, I went to the door early in themorning. The door was shut--one of those doors which, if you liftthe latch, the door immediately swings open. I lifted the latch andprepared to leap in to awaken my uncle and astonish him by my earlymorning greeting. But when the door swung back, I glanced toward thebed. The astonishment chills me at this moment, for in that bed wasnot my uncle; but a giant, whose toes stood up at the foot-board, and whose long hair was spread out over the pillow and his long graywhiskers lay on the bed clothes, and oh, that snore--it sounded likesome steam horn. That giant figure frightened me and I rushed outinto the kitchen and said, "Mother, who is that strange man in thenorthwest bed room?" and she said, "Why, that is John Brown. " I hadnever seen John Brown before, although my father had been with himin the wool business in Springfield. I had heard some strange thingsabout John Brown, and the figure of the man made them seem doublyterrible. I hid beside my mother, where I said I would stay until theman was through his breakfast, but father came out and demanded thatthe boys should come in, and he set me right under the wing of thatawful giant. But when John Brown saw us coming in so timidly, heturned to us with a smile so benign and beautiful and so greatly incontrast to what we had pictured him, that it was a transition. Hebecame to us boys one of the loveliest men we ever knew. He would goto the barn with us and milk the cows, pitch the hay from the hay-mow;he drove the cattle to water for us, and told us many a story, untilthe dear, good old man became one of the treasurers of our life. It istrue that my mother thought he was half crazy, and consequently sheand father did not always agree about him, and did not discuss himbefore the children. But nevertheless, be he a crank, or a fanatic, or what he may, one thing is sure, the richest milk of human kindnessflowed from that heart and devoted itself sincerely to the uplift ofhumanity. I remember him with love, love deep and sacred, up to thispresent time. However great an extremist John Brown was, there weremany of them in New England. Wendell Phillips, William Lloyd Garrisonand John Brown never could agree. John Brown used to criticise WendellPhillips severely. He said that Wendell Phillips could not see to readthe clearest signs of revolution, and he was reminded by the husbandwho bought a grave-stone that had been carved for another woman, butthe stone-cutter said "That has the name of another person. " "Oh, "said the widower, "that makes no difference; my wife couldn't read. "John Brown once said of Wm. Lloyd Garrison that he couldn't see thepoint and was like the woman who never could see a joke. One morning, seated at the breakfast table, her husband cracked a joke, but she didnot smile, when he said, "Mary, you could not see a joke if it werefired at you from a Dalgreen gun, " whereupon she remarked: "Now John, you know they do not fire jokes out of a gun. " Well do I recall thatDecember 2d of 1859. Only a few weeks before John Brown came to ourhouse and my father subscribed to the purchase of rifles to aid in theattempt to raise the insurrection among the slaves. The last time Isaw John Brown he was in the wagon with my father. Father gave him thereins and came back as though he had forgotten something. John Brownsaid, "Boys, stay at home; stay at home! Now, remember, you may neversee me again, " and then in a lower voice, "And I do not think you everwill see me again, " but "Remember the advice of your Uncle Brown (aswe called him), and stay at home with the old folks, and rememberthat you will be more blessed here than anywhere else on earth. " Thehappiest place on earth for me is still at my old home in Litchfield, Connecticut. I did not understand him then, but on December 2d ateleven o'clock my father called us all into the house and all thathour from eleven to twelve o'clock we sat there in perfect silence. Asthe old clock in that kitchen struck eleven, I heard the bell, ringfrom the Methodist Church, its peal coming up the valley, from hill tohill, and echoing its sad tone as the hour wore on. The peal of thatbell remains with me now; it has ever been a source of inspiration tome. Sixty times struck that old bell. Once a minute, and when thelong sad hour was over, father put his Bible upon the mantel and wentslowly out, and we all solemnly followed, going to our various duties. That solemn hour had a voice in the coming great Civil War of 1861-65. At that hour John Brown was hanged in Virginia. All through NewEngland, they kept that hour with the same solemn services whichcharacterized my father's family. When the call came for volunteersthe young men of New England enlisted in the army, and sang again andagain, that old song, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave, but his soul goes marching on. " His soul is still marching on. Andwhile I am one of those who would be the first to resist any attemptto mar the sweet fraternity that now characterises the feeling betweenthe North and South, as I believe that the Southern soldier foughtfor what he believed to be right, and consequently is entitled to ourfraternal respect, and while I believe that John Brown was sometimes afanatic, yet this illustration teaches us this great lesson and thatJohn Brown's advice was true. His happiest days were passed far backin the quiet of his old home. 

Near to our home, in the town of Cummington, lived William CullenBryant, one of the great poets of New England. He came back there tospend his summers among the mountains he so clearly loved. He promisedthe people of Cummington that he would again make his permanent homethere. I remember asking him if he would come clown to the streamwhere he wrote "Thanatopsis" and recite it for us. The good, oldneighbor, white haired and trembling, came down to the banks of thatlittle stream and stood in the shade of the same old maple where hehad written that beautiful poem, and read from the wonderful creationthat made his name famous. 

 "So live that when thy summons comes, to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm where each must take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. "

"Yes, " he said, "I will come back to Cummington. " So he went to Europebut came not back to occupy that home. He loved the old home. We weredriving by his place one day when we saw him planting apple trees inJuly. We all know that apple trees won't grow when planted in July, somy father, knowing him well, called to him and said, "Mr. Bryant, whatare you doing there? They won't grow. " Mr. Bryant paused a moment andlooked at us, and then said half playfully: "Conwell, drive on, youhave no part nor lot in this matter. I do not expect these trees togrow; I am setting them out because I want to live over again the dayswhen my father used to set trees when they would grow. I want to renewthat memory. " He was wise, for in his work on "The Transmigration ofRaces" he used that experience wonderfully. 

In 1860, when we were teaching school, my elder brother and myself, inBlanchford, Massachusetts, were asked to go to Brooklyn with the bodyof a lady who died near our schools. We went to Brooklyn on Saturdayand after the funeral, our friends asked us to stay over Sunday, saying that they would take us to hear Henry Ward Beecher! That was agreat inducement, because my father read the "Tribune" every Sundaymorning after his Bible (and sometimes before it) and what Henry WardBeecher said, my father thought, "was law and Gospel. " Sunday night, we went to Plymouth Church, and there was a crowd an hour before theservice, and when the doors were opened we were crowded up the stairs. We boys were thrust back into a dirty corner where we could notsee. Oh, yes, that is the way they treat the boys, put them anyplace--they're only boys! I remember the disappointment of that night, when we went there more to see than hear. But finally Mr. Beecher cameout and gave out his text. I remember that I did not pay very muchattention to it. In the middle of the sermon Mr. Beecher began in thestrangest way to auction off a woman: "How much am I offered for thewoman?" he yelled, and while in his biographies, they have said thatthis woman was sold in the Broadway Tabernacle, but I afterwards askedMrs. Beecher and she said that Mr. Beecher had not sold this womantwice, so far as she knew, but that she recalled distinctly the salein the Plymouth Church. I remember standing up on tip-toes to lookfor that woman that was being sold. After he had finished, after thesinging of the hymn, he said "Brethren, be seated, " and then said, "Sam, come here. " A colored boy came up tremblingly and stood besidehim. "This boy is offered for $770. 00; he is owned in South Carolinaand has run away. His master offers him to me for $770. 00, and now ifthe officers of the church will pass the plates the boy shall be setfree, " and when the plates were returned over $1700. 00 came in. As wewent our way home I said to my elder brother: "Oh, what a grand thingit must be to preach to a congregation of fifteen hundred people. " Butmy elder brother very wisely said: "You don't know anything about it;you do not know whether he is happy or not. " "Well, " I suggested, "wasn't it a strange thing to introduce a public auction in the middleof a sermon, " and my elder brother again said that if they did moreof that in a country church they would have a larger congregation. Afterwards I was quite fortunate to know Mr. Beecher and frequentlyreported his sermons. I often heard him say that the happiest yearshe ever knew were back in Lawrenceville, Ohio, in that little churchwhere there were no lamps and he had to borrow them himself, lightthem himself, and prepare the church for the first service. He toldhow he swept the church, lighted the fire in the stove, and how itsmoked; then how he sawed the wood to heat the church, and how he wentinto carpenter work to earn money to pay his own salary, yet hesaid that was the happiest time of his life. Mrs. Beecher told meafterwards that Mr. Beecher often talked about those days and saidthat bye and bye he would retire and they would again go back to thesimple life they had enjoyed so much. 

When he had built his new home near the Hudson, Robert Collier and Ivisited him. We found in the rear of an addition that clap-boards hadbeen put up in all sorts of adjustment. Mr. Collier asked him: "Wheredid you find a carpenter to do such poor work as that?" and Mr. Beecher said humorously: "You could not hire that carpenter on yourhouse. " Then he said: "Mr. Collier, I put those boards on that housemyself. I insisted that they leave that work for me to do. I have beenhappy putting on these boards and driving these nails. They took meback to the old days at Lawrenceville, where we lived over a storeand our pantry was a dry goods box. But there we were so happy. I amhoping sometime to be as happy again, but it is not possible to do itwhile I am in the service of the public. " He had promised himself andhis wife some day to go back to that simple life. But his sudden deathtaught the same great lesson with all the examples I give of great menand women. Rev. Robt. Collier always enjoyed the circus--the circuswas the great place of enjoyment outside, perhaps, of his pulpit work. It was Robert Collier who used to tell the story of the boy whose auntalways made him go to church, but after going to a circus he wrote tohis aunt: "Auntie, if you had ever been to a circus, you wouldn't goto another prayer-meeting as long as you live. " The love of Collierfor the circus only shows the simplicity of the great man's mind. Mr. Collier is said to have paid a dollar for a fifty cent ticket to thecircus, only making it conditional that he was to have the privilegeof going 'round to the rear and crawling under the tent, showing whathe must have done when a boy. The fact of Mr. Collier's love for thecircus was one of the strange things in the eccentricities of a greatman's life. Once Mr. Barnum came into Mr. Collier's church and Mr. Collier said to the usher: "Please show Mr. Barnum to a front seatfor he always gives me one in _his_ circus. " These simplicities oftenshow that somewhere back in each man's life there is a point wherehappiness and love are one, and when, that point is passed, we go onlonging to the return. 

The night after he went to hear Henry Ward Beecher's great sermon theypersuaded us to stay until the following Monday night, because therewas to be a lecture at the Cooper Institute and there was to be aparade of political clubs, and fire works, so as country boys, easilyinfluenced, we decided that the school could wait for another day, andstaid for the procession. We went to Cooper's Institute and therewas a crowd as there was at Beecher's church. We finally got on thestairway and far in the rear of the great crowd, but my brother stoodon the floor, and I sat on the ledge of the window sill, with my feeton his shoulders, so he held me while I told him down there what wasgoing on over yonder. The first man that came on the platform, andpresided at that meeting, was William Cullent Bryant, our dear oldneighbor. When we boys in a strange city saw that familiar face, oh, the emotions that arose in our hearts! How proud we were at that hour, that he, our neighbor, was presiding on that occasion. He took hisseat on the stage, the right of which was left vacant for some one yetto come. Next came a very heavy man, but immediately following hima tall, lean man. Mr. Bryant arose and went toward him, bowing andsmiling. He was an awkward specimen of a man and all about me peoplewere asking "Who is that?" but no man seemed to know. I asked agentleman who that man was, but he said he didn't know. He was anawkward specimen indeed; one of the legs of his trousers was up abouttwo inches above his shoe; his hair was dishevelled and stuck out likerooster's feathers; his coat was altogether too large for him in theback, his arms much longer than the sleeves, and with his legs twistedaround the rungs of the chair, was the picture of embarrassment. WhenMr. Bryant arose to introduce the speaker of that evening, he wasknown seemingly to few in that great hall. Mr. Bryant said: "Gentlemenof New York, you have your favorite son in Mr. Seward and if he wereto be President of the United States, every one of us would be proudof him. " Then came great applause. "Ohio has her favorite son in JudgeWade; and the nation would prosper under his administration, butGentlemen of New York, it is a great honor that is conferred upon meto-night, for I can introduce to you the next President of the UnitedStates, Abraham Lincoln. " Then through that audience flew the query asto whom Abraham Lincoln was. There was but weak applause. Mr. Lincolnhad in his hand a manuscript. He had written it with great care andexactness and the speech which you read in his biography is the onethat he wrote, not the one that he delivered as I recall it, and it isfortunate for the country that they did print the one that he wrote. Ithink the one he wrote had already been set up in type that afternoonfrom his manuscript, and consequently they did not go over it to seewhether it had been changed or not. He had read three pages and hadgone on to the fourth when he lost his place and then he began totremble and stammer. He then turned it over two or three times, threwthe manuscript upon the table, and, as they say in the west, "lethimself go. " Now the stammering man who had created only silentderision up to that point, suddenly flashed out into an angel oforatory and the awkward arms and dishevelled hair were lost sightof entirely in the wonderful beauty and lofty inspiration of thatmagnificent address. The great audience immediately began to followhis thought, and when he uttered that quotation from Douglass, "It iswritten on the sky of America that the slaves shall some day be free, "he had settled the question that he was to be the next Presidentof the United States. The applause was so-great that the buildingtrembled and I felt the windows shake behind me. Afterward, as wewalked home, I said to my elder brother again, "Wasn't it a greatthing to be introduced to all those people as the next President ofthe United States?" and my elder brother very wisely said: "You do notknow whether he was really happy or not. " Afterwards, in 1864, whenone of my soldiers was unjustly sentenced and his gray-haired motherplead with me to use what influence I would have with the President, Iwent to Washington and told the story to the President. He said hehad heard something about it from Mr. Stanton, and he said he wouldinvestigate the matter, and he did afterward decide that the manshould not be put to death. At the close of that interview I said tothe President: "I beg your pardon, Mr. Lincoln, but is it not a mostexhausting thing to sit here hearing all these appeals and have all ofthis business on your hands?" He laid his head on his hand, and in asomewhat wearied manner, said, with a deep sigh: "Yes, yes; no manought to be ambitious to be President of the United States, " and saidhe, "When this war is over, and that won't be very long, I tell my"Tad" that we will go back to the farm where I was happier as a boywhen I dug potatoes at twenty-five cents a day than I am now; I tellhim I will buy him a mule and a pony and he shall have a little cartand he shall make a little garden in a field all his own, " and thePresident's face beamed as he arose from his chair in the delight ofexcitement as he said: "Yes, I will be far happier than I have everbeen here. " The next time I looked in the face of Abraham Lincoln wasin the east room of the White House at Washington as he lay in hiscoffin. Not long ago at a Chautauqua lecture I was on the very farmwhich he bought at Salem, Illinois, and looked around the place wherehe had resolved to build a mansion, but which was never constructed. 

Near my home in the Berkshires, Charles Dudley Warner was born. Whenhe had accomplished great things in literature and had written "MySummer in a Garden, " that popular work which attracted the attentionof his newspaper friends, he went to Hartford, where the latter gavehim a banquet. I was invited to attend and report it for the publicpress. They lauded him and said how beautiful it was to be so elevatedabove his fellow men, and how great he was in the estimation of theworld But he in his answer to the toast said, "Gentlemen, I wish forno fame, I desire no glory and you have made a mistake if you thinkI enjoy any such notoriety. I envy the Hartford teacher whose smilethrew sunshine along her pathway. " Then he told us the story of a poorlittle boy, cold and barefooted, standing on the street on a terriblycold day. A lady came along, and looking kindly at him, said, "Littleboy, are you cold?" The little fellow, looking up into her face, said, "Yes Ma'am, I was cold till you smiled. " He would rather have a smilelike that and the simple love of his fellow men than to have all thefame of the earth. He was honored in all parts of the world by thegreatest of the great, yet he was a sad man when he wrote "My Summerin a Garden, " and it all seems a mystery how he could in such griefhave written that remarkable little tale. This sadness is oftenassociated with humorists. Mr. Shaw was one of the saddest men Iever met. Why, he cried on the slightest occasion. I went one day tointerview him in Boston, and Mr. Shepard, his publisher, said "Pleasedon't trouble Josh Billings now. " "What is the matter?" "Oh, he iscrying again, " said Mr. Shepard. I asked him how Mr. Shaw could writesuch funny things as he did. He then showed me the manuscript (whichMr. Shaw had just placed on his desk and which he had just written), in which he says, "I do not know any cure for laziness, but I haveknown a second wife to hurry it up some. " Artemus Ward wrote the mostlaughable things while his heart was in the deepest wretchedness. Often these glimpses of the funny men whose profession would seem toshow them to be the happiest of earth's people, prove that they aresometimes the most gloomy and miserable. 

John B. Gough, the great temperance orator, the greatest the world hasever seen, said to me one evening at his home that he would lecturefor forty years, and then would stop. But his wife said, "Now, John, you know you won't give it up. " He assented, "Yes, I will. " But hiswife said, "No you won't. You men when you drink of public life findit like a drink of whiskey, and you are just like the rest of themen. " "No, " said he. Then Mr. Gough told again his familiar story ofthe minister who was preaching in his pulpit in Boston when he saw theGovernor of the State coming up the aisle. Immediately he began tostammer, and finally said: "I see the Governor coming in, and as Iknow you will want to hear an exhortation from him, I think that I hadbetter stop. " Then one of the old officials leaped up from one of thefront seats and said, "I insist upon your going on with your sermon, sir; you ought not be embarrassed by the Governor's coming in. We areall worms! All worms! nothing but worms!" Then the minister wasangry and shouted: "Sir, I would have you understand that there isa difference in worms. " Mr. Gough said he was different from otherpeople yet the years came and went, and he stayed on the publicplatform. One night a committee from Frankford, Philadelphia, asked meto write him and ask him to lecture for them. I wrote and whether myinfluence had anything to do with it or not, I do not know, but hecame from New York and when he was in about the middle of his lecture, he came to that sentence, "Young man, keep your record clear, for asingle glass of intoxicating liquor may somewhere, in after years, change into a horrid monster that shall carry you down to woe. " Andwhen he had uttered that wonderful sentence of advice, he slopped toget breath, reached for a drink of water, swung forward and fell over. The doctor said he was too late for any earthly aid, and John B. Gough, with his armor on, went on into Glory. He never found thatearthly rest he had promised himself. His garden never showed itsflowers, and his fields were never strewn with grain. 

When our regiment was encamped in Faneuil Hall at Boston beforeembarking for the war in 1863, Mr. Wendell Phillips sent an invitationto the officers of the regiment to visit his home. But when we reachedhis house we found that he had been called to Worcester suddenly tomake a speech. But we found his wife there in her rolling chair, forshe was a permanent invalid. Our evening was spent very pleasantly, but I said to her: "Are you not very lonesome when Mr. Phillips isaway so much?" "Yes, " she said, "I am very lonesome; he is father, mother, brother, sister, husband and child to me, " and said she, "hecares for me with the tenderness of a mother; he waits upon me, hetakes me out, and brings me in; he dresses me, and it now seems sostrange that he is not by my side. If it were not for him, I shoulddie, but he says that as soon as the slaves are free that he will comeback and be the same husband he was before. " The officers standingaround me smiled as they heard of his promise to retire, but said she, "Oh, yes, he will do as he promised. " When the war was over and theslaves were free, and he had scolded General Grant all he wished, hedid do as he promised, and did retire. He sold his house in the cityand bought one in Waverly, Massachusetts. He did prove the exceptionand went back to the private life that he had promised himself andhis wife. Every Sunday morning as I drove by his home I could see himswinging on his gate. It was a double gate over the driveway, and hewould pull that gate far in, get on it and then swing way out over theside-walk and then in again. Well, he used to swing on that gate everySunday morning, and my family wondered why it was that he always didit on that particular morning. One Sunday morning when I drove by, I found Mr. Phillips swinging on his gate over the side-walk, and Isaid, "Mr. Phillips, my family wish me to ask you why you swing onthis gate every Sunday morning. " Mr. Phillips, who had a very deepsense of humour, stepped off the gate, stood back, and assuming adignified, ministerial air, "I am requested to discourse to-day uponthe text 'Why I swing upon this gate on Sunday morning, ' and I will, therefore, divide my text into two heads. " I quickly told him that Imust get to church some time that day. "Then, " said he, with a smile, "just one word more: Why do I swing on a gate? Because the first timeI saw my wife she was swinging on the gate, and the second time I sawher, we kissed each other over the top of the gate, and when I swingit reminds me of other happy days long gone by. That, sir, is thereason I swing upon this gate. " Then his humor all disappeared and hesaid: "I really swing upon this gate on Sunday morning because I thinkthe next thing to the love of God is love of man for a true woman--asyou cannot say you love God and hate your brother, neither can you sayyou love God unless you have first loved a human being, and I swing onthis gate on Sunday morning because to me it is next to life's highestworship. " And then, in a majestic manner, he said, "Conwell, allwithin this gate is PARADISE and all without it MARTYRDOM. " In thatwonderful sentence, which I feel sure I recall accurately, he utteredthe most glorious expression that could ever come from uninspiredlips. 

I had a glimpse of James G. Elaine when I went to his home in Augusta, Maine, to write his biography for the committee. A day or two after itwas finished a distinguished Senator from Washington came to see me inPhiladelphia and asked if Mr. Blaine had seen the book, and I told himthat he certainly had. "Did he see that second chapter?" "Of course hedid, " said I; "he corrected it. " Then he wanted to know how much moneyit would take to get the book out of circulation. "Why, what is thematter with the book, " said I, but he would not tell me, and said thathe would pay me well if I would only keep the book from circulation. He did not tell me what was the matter. I told him that the publishersowned the copyright, having bought it from me. He said, "Is it notpossible for you to take a trip to Europe to-morrow morning?" "But whytake a trip to Europe?" "The committee will pay all of your expenses, all your family's expenses, and of any servants you wish lo take withyou--only get out of the country. " "Well, " I said, "I am not going toleave the country for my country's good, unless I know what I am goingfor. " I never could find out what the trouble with that second chapterwas, and I afterwards asked Mrs. Blaine if she knew what was thematter. She then broke out in a paroxysm of grief and said that if hehad stayed in Washington, Pennsylvania, where he was a teacher, "hewould be living yet. " She said "he had given thirty years of his lifeto the public service, and now they have so ungratefully disgraced hisname, sent him to an early grave, and all in consequence of what hehas done for the public. He is a stranger to his country--a strangerto his friends, " and then she said, "O would to God he had stayed inPennsylvania!" I left her then, but I have never known what was inthat second chapter that caused the disturbance. But I do knowthe second chapter was concerning their early and happy life inWashington, Pennsylvania, where he taught in the college. 

Near our home in Newton, Massachusetts, was that of F. F. Smith, whowrote "America. " It was of him that Oliver Wendell Holmes said that"Nature tried to hide him by naming him Smith. " Smith lived that quietand restful life that reminds one of Tennyson's "Brook" when thinkingof him. He knew the glory of modest living. 

The last time I saw the sweet Quaker poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, was in Amesbury, before he died. He sent a note to the lecture hallasking me to come to come to him. I asked him what was his favoritepoem of his own writing. He said he had not thought very much aboutit, but said that there was one that he especially remembered:

 "I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air, I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care. "

I then asked him, "Mr. Whittier, how could you write all those warsongs which sent us young men to war, and you a peaceful Quaker? Icannot understand it. " He smiled and said that his great-grandfather hadbeen on a ship that was attacked by pirates, and as one of the pirateswas climbing up the rope into their ship, his great-grandfathergrasped a knife and cut the rope, saying: "If thee wants the rope, thee can have it. " He said that he had inherited something of the samespirit. 

At Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, Bayard Taylor took me to the grave ofhis wife, and said "Here is the spot where I determined to live anew. From this grave the real experiences of my life began. " There he wascompleting his home called "Cedar Croft. " But he died while U. S. Minister to Germany. The Young Men's Congress of Boston, whenarranging for a great memorial service in Tremont Temple, asked me tocall on Dr. Oliver Wendel Holmes to ask him to write a poem on BayardTaylor's death. When I asked Mr. Holmes to write this poem, to be readin the Tremont Temple, he was sitting on the rocking chair. He rockedback and kicked up his feet, and began to laugh. "I write a poem onBayard Taylor--ah, no--but I tell you, if you will get Mr. Longfellowto write a poem on Bayard Taylor's death, I will read it. " Thesethings only show the eccentricities of Mr. Holmes. So I went to Mr. Longfellow and told him what Dr. Holmes had said, and here is the poemhe wrote:

 "Dead he lay among his books! The peace of God was in his looks. As the statues in the gloom Watch o'er Maximilian's tomb, So those volumes from their shelve. Watched him, silent as themselves. Ah, his hand will never more Turn their storied pages o'er. Never more his lips repeat Songs of theirs, however sweet. Let the lifeless body rest! He is gone who was its guest. Gone as travellers haste to leave An inn, nor tarry until eve. 

 "Traveller! in what realms afar, In what planet, in what star, In what gardens of delight Rest thy weary feet to-night? Poet, thou whose latest verse Was a garland on thy hearse, Thou hast sung with organ tone In Deukalion's life thine own. On the ruins of the Past Blooms the perfect flower, at last Friend, but yesterday the bells Rang for thee their loud farewells; And to-day they toll for thee, Lying dead beyond the sea; Lying dead among thy books; The peace of God in all thy looks. "

That great traveller, like Mr. Longfellow, used to tell me of hisfirst wife. He always said that her sweet spirit occupied that roomand stood by him. I often told him that he was wrong and argued withhim, but he said, "I know she is here. " I often thought of the greatinspiration she had been to him in his marvelous poems and books. Poor Bayard Taylor, "In what gardens of delight, rest thy weary feetto-night?" Mr. Longfellow once said that Mary "stood between him andhis manuscript, " and he could not get away from the impression thatshe was with him all the time. How sad was her early death and how hesuffered the martyrdom of the faithful! Longfellow's home life wasalways beautiful But his later years were disturbed greatly bysouvenir and curiosity seekers. 

Horace Greeley died of a broken heart because he was not electedPresident of the United States, and never was happy in the last yearsof his life. His idea of true happiness was to go to some quietretreat and publish some little paper. He once declared at a dinner inBrooklyn that he envied the owner of a weekly paper in Indiana whosepaper was so weakly that the subscribers did not miss it if it failedto appear. 

Mr. Tennyson told me that he would not exchange his home, walled in asit was like a fortress for Windsor Castle or the throne of the Queen. 

Mr. Carnegie said to me only a few months ago that if a man owned hishome and had his health he had all the money that man needed to be ashappy as any person can be. Mr. Carnegie was right about that. 

Empress Eugenie, in 1870, was said to be the happiest woman in France. I saw her in the Tuilleres at a gorgeous banquet and a few yearsafter, when her husband had been captured, her son killed and she wasa widow, at the Chislehurst Cottage, I said to her, "The last timeI saw you in that beautiful palace you were said to be the happiestwoman in the world. " "Sir, " she said, "I am far happier now than I wasthen. " It was a statement that for a long time I could not understand. 

I caught a glimpse of Garibaldi weeping because he did not go backwith his wife, Anita, to South America. 

I visited Charles Dickens at his home and asked him to come to Americaagain and read from his books, but Mr. Dickens said "No, I will nevercross the ocean; I will not go even to London. When I die, I am to beburied out there on the lawn, " and he pointed out the place to me. Afew weeks later I hired a custodian to let me in early at the reargate of Westminster Abbey, for Parliament had changed Mr. Dickens'swill in one respect, and provided that he should not be buried on thelawn of his cottage, but instead in Westminster Abbey, but they madeno other change in his will. There I looked on the fifteen men, allwhom the will allowed to be present at his funeral, who were bearingall that was mortal of Charles Dickens to his rest, and I heard DeanStanley say "While Mr. Dickens lived, his loss was our gain; butnow his gain is our loss. " When he uttered that great truth, verycondensed, in that beautiful language, he showed that human life inthe public service of one's fellow men may be nothing more or lessthan continual sacrifice. 

My friends, if you are called to public service; if you have influencethat you can use for the public good, do not hesitate to go if you areSURE that DUTY calls you. But if, instead, no voice of God, no call ofmankind, doth require that you go out and give up the best of life foryour fellows, remember how fortunate you are. If you can go to yourhome at evening and read your paper in peace, and rest undisturbed, do so, and remember that you have reached the very height of personalhappiness. Then seek no farther, count thyself happy and go no fartherthan God shall call you. For the happiest man is not famous, norrich, but he who hath his loved ones in an undisturbed peace around. Remember what Wendell Phillips said, "All within this gate isParadise; all without it is MARTYDROM. "

I had a glimpse of Generals Grant and Sheridan wrestling like boys, over a box of cigars sent into General Grant's tent. They were boysagain. 

I had a glimpse of Li-Hung Chang at Nanking, China, at an execution bybeheading, and a glimpse of him an hour later playing leap frog withhis grandchildren. Childhood was a joy, manhood a tragedy.