ness the sacrifice of Christ, and the claims of His wondrous love. Without leaving their seats, and I think without tasting their refreshments, they solemnly resolved to give their hearts to Christ. They left the saloon, and sought the counsel and prayers of Christian friends, and were soon rejoicing in hope. Two of them have made a public profession of religion, and the other probably will soon. THE PRAYER OF FAITH.-A lady had been praying for her husband for seventeen years-ever since she was married; and, since this revival commenced, she has, at the meetings, requested prayers a great many times. At last, God afflicted him, and took from him a beloved daughter, who was his idol. He then felt as if God spoke to him; and he said to himself, "This will not do; I must attend to the concerns of my soul;" but he did not come to a decision. His wife, fearing his seriousness might wear off, said to a lady that was stopping with her, "I wish some one would ask my husband to a neighbourhood meeting." The reply was, "I will call on Mr. and ask him to go with him." He invited him to go, and he went. It is the custom in those meetings to ask any one who may desire to be prayed for, or have anything to say, to rise. This man arose and said, "I am a stranger to the most of you, a stranger to God, and a stranger to that religion you profess. Pray for me, that I may be brought to Christ." Two of the brethren prayed with him, and they appeared to enter into the very holiest of holies, and then God heard and answered prayer. While in that room, he gave his heart to the Saviour, and he went home that night and erected the family altar. He has been praising God and standing up for Jesus ever since. During the month of January 1858, Rev. Phineas Stowe, having attended a funeral of a girl at what is known at the North End of Boston as 66 The Globe Dance Hall," a notoriously bad place, asked the proprietor for permission to hold a prayer-meeting there. To the astonishment of Mr. Stowe, permission was granted, and the hall was opened every day for religious meetings. The Holy Spirit was present, and the place became one of deep solemnity. The wife of the proprietor of the hall was soon hopefully converted, and many others were subsequently brought to the knowledge of the truth. Among them was a man in middle life, who had been for many years a very intemperate man, and who had been a doorkeeper at the dance hall. He related his experience at the Old South Chapel. The editor of this book requested him to place it upon paper. He did so, and it is inserted below in his own words : BOSTON, March 15, 1859. I am now in my thirty-fifth year, and am three weeks old in Christ. I have had warnings, year after year; but I heeded not. I have letters from a poor, praying mother. She would write a few lines about the folks, and then she would say, Oh, Elias, put your trust in God; for time is short, and you don't know how soon death will overtake you. The way you are going on, you will hasten your poor mother to her long home. How can I die and know that the only child I have in the world must be parted from me for ever? Do seek Christ, and go to heaven with me." I would read a part of the letter, and then hand it to my wife, and tell her she might read the rest of it. My heart was so full I could not read. I would then go to the rum-shop, and there stay and drink; and so I went on, year after year, till I became a drunkard. About four months ago, God began to call for me more than ever. When going along the streets, I would look at myself, and then at all around, and think it will be but a few days before I shall have to bid adieu to all, and then, oh, my mother, what shall I do ?—and then to the rum-shop I would go. I went on in this way, till one morning my boy went through the room singing, "My father's a drunkard, but I am not to blame." I had not heard this before, and I thought he had made it up for me. I tried to speak, and tell him to stop, but could not, and so to the rum-shop I went. But those words went with me, "My father's a drunkard, but I am not to blame." January 23, Rev. P. Stowe held a prayer-meeting at Globe Hall. I thought I would go, for I had not been to church for five years. After getting full of rum, I went, thinking to have some fun. But it was no fun to me; it seemed that they were all talking to me. Time began to seem short; everything I ever did came up in my mind, and I began to weep, and thought I must die at the close of the meeting. Mr. Stowe said, "If there is any one here that wants to take the temperance pledge, I will administer it." I rose and said I would. I thought then, if I could only get rum out of me, and feel as in former years, I should be happy. But it was not Those mother's prayers and a long eternity were in my mind. And then I would think of what my little boy would say when he would bring my so. rum to me, 'Father, don't drink it; you know it hurts you, and by-and-by I shan't have any father's knee to sit on." I felt as though I had no friend on earth or in heaven. I went to meeting every day for four weeks, but did not pray. I thought I had got to begin at the time I first began to sin, and repent of every one separately; and I could see so many, that I thought that God would not forgive them all. I lived in this way till the night of February 22. While asleep I dreamed I was to work around the cars, and a man said, "Don't go there; they will kill you!" I looked around, and saw guns pointed at me. I could not find anything to get behind, so I fell on the ground, and that waked me up. I then thought of the many invitations that the people of God had given me to flee from the wrath to come, and I heeded not, and how quick I dropped when they told me in my dream they would shoot me. I got out of bed, and began to pray to God to forgive my sins; and when I gave myself up to God, He did forgive my sins, and I am now praising His holy name. I have a whole stack of mother's prayers, I like to read her letters. and now The communication inserted below is very interesting, and it is inserted entire: CONVERSION AT THE INQUIRY MEETINGS.-About a year ago, when inquiry meetings were held daily, at the close of the morning meetings at the chapel, I had the pleasure of being present at many of those interesting and profitable seasons, where, all reserve for the time being thrown off, we could speak freely to the anxious inquirers who came there heart-burdened, but hoping, trusting that the Holy Spirit would, through the mouth of some brother, speak peace to their troubled souls, and lead them from the darkness in which they were blindly groping, to the marvellous light and glory which He alone can shed abroad in the heart. There we could pour out our whole hearts in prayer for each individual who desired it, and wrestle with God for His blessing to descend upon that soul, no matter what the outward form, semblance, or characteristic. At one of these meetings my eye fastened upon a young lady who had come in. I felt very anxious to know whether she loved the precious Saviour, the glorious Redeemer, and felt constrained to speak to her, although an entire stranger. I went to her and said, "My friend, can you say, with David, 'My heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord ?'' She said she could not. I asked her if she wished to be a Christian. She said she did. I asked her if she would like to be prayed for. She answered, Yes. I remarked to her that we did not think that going forward for prayers would save the soul, but that it was a very appropriate way to express the desire to become a Christian. I then asked her if she would go forward, and be conversed with, and prayed for. She readily assented, and went with me to a front seat, where we continued our conversation. I said to her, "I want you to look directly to Jesus, and say to Him, from the inmost depths of your heart, 'Just as I am, without one plea, Save that Thy blood was shed for me, |