“One of Christ’s followers once said, ’If all that Christ said and did were written in books, the world could not contain them.  This is an exageration, (a ripple of laughter dances over the congregation), having a great meaning, however.” * * * * “David gives us only his intense life.” (The audience smile). (11:35).  The preacher becoming dramatic in gesticulation and oratorical in delivery, walks back and forth upon the elevated platform.  While describing the crosses which he saw yesterday, he becomes highly excited, swinging his arms above his head.  “Crosses everywhere.  All the way up street; on every beauty’s breast.” (Explosive laughter).  “Some may have cost $500, others possibly $1,500; perhaps some cost $2,000.” (Claps his hands in excitement).  “Some say ‘the church handed down Christianity’; but I say Christianity kept the church alive.  What was it, that, in the Reformation, made blood such a sweet manure for souls?” (12:10 p.m.) Pleads earnestly for the weak and the erring.  “A man that has gone wrong, and has nobody to be sorry for it is lost; pity may save.”  Sermon concluded at 12:25.  Prayer.  Dismissal by singing.

Mr. Beecher’s voice is so clear and powerful, that he can be readily understood in the most distant parts of the house.  After leaving church, I went up to Columbia Heights, the most aristocratic section of Brooklyn, where I enjoyed myself in contemplating the beautiful and magnificent buildings which constitute the quiet and charming homes of those wealthy people living there.  How partial Heaven is to some of her children!  Thence I found my way to Greenwood Cemetery, where I spent the remainder of the day amid the tombs and monuments of “the great city of the dead.”  Guide books containing all the carriage roads and foot-paths of that burial ground, are sold at or near the gate.  One of these I procured, and found it was so perfect in the particulars, that I could readily find the grave of any one of the many distinguished persons mentioned in the index, without further assistance whatever.  It is impossible here to give an account of the many splendid tombs and monuments erected there by loving hearts and skillful hands, in memory of dear friends and relatives that have “gone away!” What multitudes of strange and curious designs meet the eye here!  Some few perhaps seem odd; but most of them bear appropriate emblems, and convey sweet thoughts and tender sentiments in behalf of those “sleeping beneath the sod.”  What a place for meditation!  How quiet, how solemn!  No one should visit New York without allotting at least half a day to these holy grounds.  How I wander from grave to grave!  Here I am struck with the text of an impressive epitaph, and there I see the delicate and elaborate workmanship of a skillful master.  Here my heart is touched by the sweet simplicity of a simple slab bearing some touching lines, there I stand in silent admiration before the magnificent