service." It was well known that the Faculty did not "count" these informal musicals, but that made little difference to some easy consciences. These sacred concerts were seasons of worship to many who attended them, and much good was accomplished through their instrumentality, and it is by no means certain that the Faculty was right in discounting them. They were so pleasant and attractive and informal that few of the fellows were willing to miss them on any account, and thus they were kept out of danger during the long Sunday afternoon, when Satan was always offering to idle hands certain kinds of employment that were not considered entirely innocent by Sunday-school teachers and preachers. The only instruments, besides the fresh, pure, human voice, were a little organ, carried out on the great stone porch of old North College, and a cornet or two. This sacred concert was one of the attractions of the town, though the college students had so little self-consciousness that they never fully realized it. The citizens would gather in and around the campus in crowds, and visitors at the homes of the region must always remain over Sunday to hear the students sing, and many were the carriages around the "square" that had driven over from neighboring towns and villages for the sole purpose of listening to the grand chorus. They always sang "Sunday pieces" too, but it did not count as a service.

In spite of the interpretations of unscrupulous men, the rule in regard to church attendance

worked wonders for the morning worship in the college church. The students were there, but the same could not be said at night; for students and town folk alike were conspicuous by the empty sittings. The pastor had reason to feel sad as he looked over the plush-covered pews that so brazenly emphasized the smallness of his congregation. There were usually a few present at night whose consciences demanded their presence. There were some who came from love for the faithful minister, and undoubtedly some because they deemed it a privilege and a pleasure to be in God's house. In addition, there were always a few students who found this to be their last opportunity "to make up a service." Indeed, it was not an unheard-of thing to make two points in the same hour. A student would attend one church and sit on the back seat; then, before the sermon, he would quietly slip away to another church, where he would complete his work.

As the small body of students marched into church and took their places together, a smile was noticed by some, who were watching, playing about the mouth of the good man in the pulpit; and many thought that the sermon he preached was his best evening effort, while others went so far as to say that he improved appreciably from this memorable night. Christian congregations do not seem to appreciate how much they have to do with preaching; they do not realize that they are often responsible for the success or failure of the hour. However it may have been

in this case, it is certain that, before many months, the evening service became the more popular of the two, and crowds began to take possession of the hitherto empty pews. It was demonstrated

that a crowd will often draw a crowd, and the Doctor remarked to a friend one night, who had been congratulating him on his immense audiences: "Ah, a minister needs more help than that which comes from his study, as important as that is; more help than that which comes from above, I say it reverently; he needs help from those who sit in front of him; he needs their sympathy, their love, and their prayers. A friend of mine was preaching at a camp-meeting. He was having a glorious time, and all were moved. After it was over, one of his own congregation came to him enthusiastically and thanked him for the sermon, but added, 'Why don't you preach like that at home?' 'Because you won't let me,' was the reply. ‘I preached that same sermon a few weeks ago, almost word for word, and you were present; but you did not help me, and no one thanked me afterward.'"

This minister knew what he was talking about. On this night he was prayed for more than usual. The body of consecrated young men, fresh from the presence of God, and with the Holy Spirit resting upon them, began to lift up the preacher to the very Throne.

At the close of the sermon the pastor said: "Something impresses me that I ought to hold an 'after-meeting' to-night, and you are all invited to

tarry a few minutes." There are some who seem to feel that every minute spent in church is waste time, and who always get out as fast as they can. A few of this class retired, but most of the congregation remained; some out of curiosity, and two or three students to make up their second service in this "after-meeting."

When all was quiet the minister continued: "Now we are approaching the season that ought to be one of awakening. The Church should bestir herself to better living and to more diligent service. Even now we should see sinners turning to us, and hear them cry, 'Men and brethren, what must we do to be saved?' My heart has been saddened, for the Church has been backward in this great work, and the members have seemed cold and indifferent; and until now I have seen no encouraging sign. But to-night hope and confidence have revived in my breast, and I have invited you to remain that, by our united prayer, by our faith, and by our mutual encouragement in testimony, we might bring closer the day of the special coming of our Lord to this Church and community."

Having thus spoken, he called for volunteer prayers. One brother, after the lapse of seconds, prayed in a drowsy tone of voice, an indefinite kind of a supplication, for several long minutes, and then there was a pause. The minister sighed audibly. Surely he had been mistaken; there was no sign. The congregation was listless, sleepy, dead. The purpose was about formed in his mind

to offer a short prayer and dismiss. But just at this juncture one of the little company of students impulsively began the prayer that had been welling up within his soul till it was almost impossible to contain it longer. Instantly the sleepy atmosphere was surcharged with spiritual electricity, and there was an awakening, and every person present seemed intent on listening. This man was talking to a Friend, a near Friend-not a stranger, as seems to be the case with some when they talk with God. He was talking from a heart full of love, and not from duty or rote. He was speaking from a genuine sense of need, not using meaningless words put together more for the congregation than for God. The prayer was short, but it was honored at once. After a second's pause, during which no one seemed ready to respond, another one of these students began pleading with God for the Spirit of conviction. He asked that Christians and Church members might first feel it, and then that it might come upon the unsaved. "Thou hast promised, O Lord, that thy Spirit should come to convict the world of sin and of righteousness and of judgment to come; now fulfill that promise here. Convince of sin and its guilt; of righteousness, its remedy through Christ; of judgment, its awful result. May the Spirit come to every heart! May there not be one who shall not know that 'Christ is knocking at my sad heart,' and who shall not feel the drawings away from the world and sin!" As he prayed, there was manifest such a tenderness, such a yearning, that tears