perch,’ and one can imagine the platform creaking under the military tread of the tall lawyer who stepped into its lofty height to preach.  But, old though it was, they say, a cold, gloomy, damp, dingy old box, it was a meeting house and the Colonel preached in it.  That a lawyer should practice, was a commonplace, everyday truth; but that a lawyer should preach—­that was indeed a novelty.  The congregation of sixteen or seventeen at the first service grew the following Sabbath, to forty worshippers.  Another week, and when the new preacher climbed into that high pulpit, he looked down upon a crowded house; the little old chapel was dangerously full.  Indeed, before the hour for service, under the thronging feet of the gathering congregation, one side of the front steps—­astonished, no doubt, and overwhelmed by the unwonted demand upon its services—­did fall down.  They were encouraged to build a fire in the ancient stove that morning, but it was past regeneration; it smoked so viciously that all the invalids who had come to the meeting were smoked out.  The old stove had lived its day and was needed no longer.  There was a fire burning in the old meeting-house that the hand of man had not lighted and could not kindle; that all the storms of the winter could not quench.  The pulpit and the preacher had a misty look in the eyes of the old deacons at that service.  And the preacher?  He looked into the earnest faces before him, into the tearful, hopeful eyes, and said in his own strong heart, ’These people are hungry for the word of God, for the teachings of Christ.  They need a church here; we will build a new one.’

“It was one thing to say it, another to achieve it.  The church was poor.  Not a dollar was in the treasury, not a rich man in the membership, the congregation, what there was of it, without influence in the community.  But lack of money never yet daunted Dr. Conwell.  The situation had a familiar look to him.  He had succeeded many a time without money when money was the supreme need, and he attacked this problem with the same grim perseverance that had carried him so successfully through many a similar ordeal.”

“After service he spoke about building a new church to two or three of the members.  ‘A new church?’ They couldn’t raise enough money to put windows 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 was that such an able lawyer should be so visionary in practical church affairs.  Part of that night Colonel Conwell spent in prayer; early next morning he appeared with a pick-axe and a woodman’s axe and marched upon that devoted old meeting-house, as he had marched against Hood’s intrenchments before Atlanta.  Strange, unwonted sounds saluted the ears of the early risers and awakened the sluggards in Lexington that Monday morning.  Bang, Bang, Bang!  Crash—­Bang!  Travelers over the Revolutionary battlefield at Lexington