could not wonder that men’s hearts were melted by the power and tenderness of his utterances.  Strange that God should hide such gifts away for years when the world was in such need of workers.  Along through the meeting there were occasional snatches of song, deep, resonant melody that uplifted the heart as it welled up from glad, thankful souls.  Men and women rose, for the most part with modest calmness, and told what God had done for them, and what they still expected from our Father as loving as He is rich.  I listened spellbound.  Some of them had a story to tell so like my own that my heart was thrilled at times.  I wanted to tell what God had done for me, but before that crowded house, and worse than all, in presence of Mr. Winthrop, I found it impossible; but just at the close the minister, with a kindly thoughtfulness for which I blessed him said:  “There may be some one here who loves Christ but has not courage to tell us so.  If they are willing to witness for Him we extend them the privilege of doing this by merely rising to their feet.”

My heart beat painfully and my head swam, but forgetful of my guardian’s displeasure, and the concentrated gaze of some hundreds of eyes, I stood up.  I heard a heartfelt “praise God,” from the direction of Mr. Bowen’s pew, and then there was a gentle rustle in every part of the house, and scores stood up, Mrs. Flaxman among the rest.  The meeting closed quietly, and in the same solemn hush the people departed.

Mr. Winthrop stood, waiting for the crowd to leave, not seeing the many curious glances bent our way.  Presently the minister was passing our pew; he paused uncertainly, wishing to speak, I knew from the expression of his face, but waiting for Mr. Winthrop first to make some sign of recognition.  I stood near enough to reach my hand; my act speedily followed by Mrs. Flaxman; and then with rare grace and courtesy Mr. Winthrop extended his hand, saying:  “I have to thank you for your very faithful sermon.  I did not know the present generation of preachers dared talk so plainly to their hearers.”

“Perhaps you do not go in the way of hearing them; the race of heroes is not yet extinct.  Not that I reckon myself a hero,” he added, with an amused smile at the slip of tongue.

“The rack and flames are not necessary to prove one a hero or martyr.  I dare say many who do not choose to live for their religion would die for it if it came in their way to do so.”

“Yourself among the number, I believe, Mr. Winthrop,” the minister said, with a penetrating look, that Mr. Winthrop returned in kind.

“I would take it as a favor if you would dine with us some day soon, and give me an evening of your society.  We might have some topics in common to discuss,” Mr. Winthrop said, to the surprise of each of us, Mr. Lathrop included.  “Possibly you do not make such engagements on the Sabbath.  Pardon me, I had forgotten you were a conscientious man,” he said, after a short pause, seeing Mr. Lathrop hesitate.