{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11421/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11421","id":"gutenberg_11421","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11421","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - American","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Conwell, Russell H., 1843-1925","Minneapolis (Minn.) -- Biography"],"text":"[Illustration: RUSSELL H CONWELL]\n\n\n\n\nRUSSELL H. CONWELL\n\nFounder of the Institutional Church in America\n\n\n\nTHE WORK AND THE MAN\n\nBY\n\nAGNES RUSH BURR\n\n\n\nWith His Two Famous Lectures as Recently Delivered, entitled \"Acres of\nDiamonds,\" and \"Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women\"\n\n\n\nWith an Appreciative Introduction by FLOYD W. TOMKINS, D.D., LL.D.\n\n\n\n\n1905\n\n\n\n\nTO THE MEMBERS\n\nOF\n\nGRACE BAPTIST CHURCH\n\n\nTO THOSE WHO IN THE OLD DAYS WORKED WITH SUCH SELF SACRIFICE AND\nDEVOTION TO BUILD THE TEMPLE WALLS; TO THOSE WHO IN THE LATER DAYS\nANYWHERE WORK IN LIKE SPIRIT TO ENLARGE THEIR SPHERE OF USEFULNESS,\n\nTHIS BOOK IS DEDICATED\n\n\n\n\nAN APPRECIATION\n\n\nThe measure of greatness is helpfulness. We have gone back to the\nmethod of the Master and learned to test men not by wealth, nor by\nbirth, nor by intellectual power, but by service. Wealth is not to be\ndespised if it is untainted and consecrated. Ancestry is noble if the\ngood survives and the bad perishes in him who boasts of his forebears.\nIntellectual force is worthy if only it can escape from that cursed\nattendant, conceit. But they sink, one and all into insignificance\nwhen character is considered; for character is the child of godly\nparents whose names are self-denial and love. The man who lives not\nfor himself but for others, and who has a heart big enough to take all\nmen into its living sympathies--he is the man we delight to honor.\n\nBiographies have a large place in present day literature. A woman long\nassociated with some foreign potentates tells her story and it is read\nwith unhealthy avidity. Some man fights many battles, and his career\ntold by an amiable critic excites temporary interest. Yet as we read\nwe are unsatisfied. The heart and mind, consciously or unconsciously,\nask for some deeds other than those of arms and sycophancies. Did he\nmake the world better by his living? Were rough places smoothed and\ncrooked things straightened by his energies? And withal, had he that\ntender grace which drew little children to him and made him the\nknight-attendant of the feeble and overborne amongst his fellows? The\nlife from which men draw daily can alone make a book richly worth the\nreading.\n\nIt is good that something should be known of a man whilst he yet\nlives. We are overcrowded with monuments commemorating those into\nwhose faces we cannot look for inspiration. It is always easy to strew\nflowers upon the tomb. But to hear somewhat of living realities; to\ngrasp the hand which has wrought, and feel the thrill while we hear of\nthe struggles which made it a beautiful hand; to see the face marked\nby lines cut with the chisel of inner experience and the sword of\nlonely misunderstanding and perchance of biting criticism, and\nlearn how the brave contest spelt out a life-history on feature and\nbrow;--this is at once to know the man and his career.\n\nThis life of a man justly honored and loved in Philadelphia will find\na welcome seldom accorded to the routine biography. It is difficult\nfor one who rejoices in Dr. Conwell's friendship to speak in tempered\nlanguage. It is yet more difficult to do justice to the great work\nwhich Church and College and Hospital, united in a trinity of service,\nhave accomplished in our very midst. God hath done mighty things\nthrough this His servant, and the end is not yet. To attend the Temple\nservices on Sunday and feel the pulse of worship is to enter into a\nblessed fellowship with God and men. To see the thousands pursuing\ntheir studies during the week in Temple College and to realize the\nthoroughness of the work done is to gain a belief in Christian\neducation. To move through the beautiful Hospital and mark the gentle\nministration of Christian physician and nurse is to learn what Jesus\nmeant when, quoting Hosea, He said: \"I will have mercy and not\nsacrifice.\" And these all bring one very near to the great human\nheart, the intelligent and far-reaching judgment, the ripe and real\nreligion of him whose life this volume tells.\n\nMay God bless Dr. Conwell in the days to come, and graciously spare\nhim to us for many years! We need such men in this old sin-stained and\nweary world. He is an inspiration to his brothers in the ministry\nof Jesus Christ, He is a proof of the power in the world of pure\nChristianity. He is a friend to all that is good, a foe to all that is\nevil, a strength to the weak, a comforter to the sorrowing, a man of\nGod.\n\nHe would not suffer these words to be printed if he saw them. But they\ncome from the heart of one who loves, honors, and reverences him for\nhis character and his deeds. They are the words of a friend.\n\n[Illustration: Floyd W. Tomkins Church of the Holy Trinity\nPhiladelphia, Oct. 6th 1905.]\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\nCONWELL THE PIONEER\n\n\nSpeaking of Russell Conwell's career, a Western paper has called it,\n\"a pioneer life.\"\n\nNo phrase better describes it.\n\nDr. Conwell preaches to the largest Protestant congregation in America\neach Sunday. He is the founder and president of a college that has a\nyearly roll-call of three thousand students. He is the founder and\npresident of a hospital that annually treats more than five thousand\npatients. Yet great as these achievements are, they are yet greater in\nprophecy than in fulfilment. For they are the first landmarks in a new\nworld of philanthropic work. He has blazed a path through the dark,\ntangled wilderness of tradition and convention, hewing away the\nworthless, making a straight road for progress, letting in God's clear\nlight to show what the world needs done and how to do it.\n\nHe has shown how a church can reach out into the home, the business,\nthe social life of thousands of people until their religion is their\nlife, their life a religion. He has given the word \"church\" its real\nmeaning. No longer is it a building merely for worship, but, with\ndoors never closed, it is a vital part of the community and the lives\nof the people.\n\nHe has proven that the great masses of people are hungry and thirsty\nfor knowledge. The halls of Temple College have resounded to the tread\nof an army of working men and women more than fifty thousand strong.\nThe man with an hour a day and a few dollars a year is as eager and as\nwelcome a student there, and has the same educational opportunities to\nthe same grade of learning as though he had the birthright of leisure\nand money which opens the doors to Harvard and Yale.\n\nHe has shown that a hospital can be built not merely as a charity, not\nmerely as a necessity, but as a visible expression of Christ's love\nand command, \"Heal the sick.\"\n\nIn all these three lines he has blazed new paths, opened new worlds\nfor man's endeavors--new worlds of religious work, new worlds of\neducational work. He has not only proven their need, demonstrated\ntheir worth, but he has shown how it is possible to accomplish such\nresults from small beginnings with no large gifts of money, with only\nthe hands and hearts of willing workers.\n\nNot only has he done a magnificent pioneer work in these great fields,\nbut from boyhood he has blazed trails of one kind or another, for\nthe pioneer fever was in his blood--that burning desire to do, to\ndiscover, to strike out into new fields.\n\nAs a mere child, he organized a strange club called \"Silence,\" also\nthe first debating society in the district schoolhouse, and circulated\nthe first petition for the opening of a post-office near his home in\nSouth Worthington, Mass.\n\nIn his school days at Wilbraham Academy, he organized an original\ncritics' club, started the first academy paper, organized the original\nalumni association.\n\nIn war time, he built the first schoolhouse for the first free colored\nschool, still standing at Newport, N.C.; and started the first\n\"Comfort Bag\" movement at a war meeting in Springfield, Mass.\n\nAs a lawyer, he opened the first noon prayer meeting in the Northwest,\ncalled the first meeting to organize the Y.M.C.A. at Minneapolis,\nMinn., organized four literary and social clubs in Minneapolis,\nstarted the first library in that city, began the publication of the\nfirst daily paper there called \"The Daily Chronicle,\" afterward \"The\nMinneapolis Tribune.\"\n\nIn Boston, he started the \"Somerville Journal,\" now edited by his son,\nLeon M. Conwell, one of the most quoted publications in the country.\nHe called the first meeting which organized the Boston Young Men's\nCongress, and was one of the first editors of the \"Boston Globe.\"\nHe was the personal adviser of James Redpath, who opened the first\nLecture and Lyceum Bureau in the United States.\n\nHe began a new church work in the old Baptist church building at\nLexington, Mass., and he opened in a schoolhouse the mission from\nwhich grew the West Somerville (Mass.) Baptist church.\n\nHe was special counselor for four new Railroad companies and for two\nnew National banks.\n\nIn Philadelphia, in addition to being the founder of the first\nInstitutional church in America, of a college practically free for\nbusy men and women, and a hospital for the sick poor, he has organized\ntwenty or more societies for religions and benevolent purposes\nincluding the Philadelphia Orphan's Home Society.\n\nHis pioneer work is not all. As a lecturer Dr. Conwell is known from\nthe Atlantic to the Pacific, having been on the lecture platform\nfor forty-three years, speaking from one hundred to two hundred and\ntwenty-five nights each year.\n\nAs an author he has written books that have run into editions of\nhundreds of thousands, his \"Life of Spurgeon\" selling one hundred and\ntwenty-five thousand copies in four months. He has been around the\nglobe many times, counted among his intimate friends Garibaldi, Bayard\nTaylor, Stanley, Longfellow, Blaine, Henry Ward Beecher, John G.\nWhittier, President Garfield, Horace Greeley, Alexander Stevens, John\nBrown, Ralph Waldo Emerson, John B. Gough and General Sherman.\n\nHe fought in the war of the Rebellion, was left for dead on the\nbattlefield of Kenesaw mountain--in fact, he has had a career as\npicturesque and thrilling as a Scott or Dumas could picture.\n\nYet the man whose energy has reared enduring monuments of stone, and\nmore lasting ones in the hearts of thousands whose lives he has made\nhappier and brighter, fought his way upward alone and single-handed\nfrom a childhood of poverty. He rose by his own efforts, in the face\nof great and seemingly insurmountable obstacles and discouragements.\nThe path he took from that little humble farmhouse to the big church,\nthe wide-reaching college, the kindly hospital, the head of the\nLecture Platform, it is the purpose of this book to picture, in the\nhope that it may be helpful to others, either young or old, who desire\nto better their condition, or to do some work of which the inner voice\ntells them the world is in need.\n\nDr. Conwell believes, with George Macdonald, that \"The one secret of\nlife and development is not to devise or plan, but to fall in with the\nforces at work--to do every moment's duty aright--that being the part\nin the process allotted to us; and let come ... what the Eternal\nThought wills for each of us, has intended in each of us from the\nfirst.\"\n\nOr in the words of the greatest of Books, \"See that thou make it\naccording to the pattern that was shewed thee in the mount.\"\n\nEvery one at some time in his life has been \"in the mount.\" To follow\nand obey the Heavenly Vision means a life of usefulness and happiness.\nThat obstacles and discouragements can be surmounted, the life of\nRussell Conwell shows. For this purpose it is written, that others who\nhave heard the Voice may go forward with faith and perseverance to\nwork of which the world stands in need.\n\n\n\n\nACKNOWLEDGMENT\n\n\nIn the preparation of this book, the three excellent biographies\nalready written, \"Scaling the Eagle's Nest,\" by Wm. C. Higgins, \"The\nModern Temple and Templars,\" by Robert J. Burdette, and \"The Life of\nRussell H. Conwell,\" by Albert Hatcher Smith, have been of the utmost\nhelp. The writer wishes to acknowledge her great indebtedness to all\nfor much of the information in the present work. These writers have\nwith the utmost care gathered the facts concerning Dr. Conwell's early\nlife, and the writer most gratefully owns her deep obligation to them.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS\n\nChapter I.--Ancestry. John Conwell, the English Ancestor who fought for\nthe Preservation of the English Language. Martin Conwell of Maryland. A\nRunaway Marriage. The Parents of Russell H. Conwell.\n\nChapter II.--Early Environment. The Family Circle. An Unusual Mother.\nWhat She Read Her Children. A Preacher at Three Years of Age.\n\nChapter III.--Days of Study, Work and Play. The Schoolhouse in the\nWoods. Maple Sugar-making. The Orator of the Dawn. A Boyish Prank.\nCapturing the Eagle's Nest.\n\nChapter IV.--Two Men and Their Influence. John Brown. Fireside\nDiscussions. Runaway Slaves. Fred Douglas. Rev. Asa Niles. A Runaway\nTrip to Boston.\n\nChapter V--Trying His Wings. Boyhood Days. Russell's First Case at Law.\nA Cure for Stage Fever. Studying Music. A Runaway Trip to Europe.\n\nChapter VI--Out of the Home Nest. School Days at Wilbraham Academy. The\nFirst School Oration and Its Humiliating End. The Hour of Prayer in the\nConwell Home at the Time of John Brown's Execution.\n\nChapter VII.--War's Alarms. College Days at Yale. The Outbreak of the\nCivil War. Patriotic Speechmaking. New York and Henry Ward Beecher.\n\nChapter VIII.--While the Conflict Raged. Lincoln's Call for One Hundred\nThousand Men. Enlistment. Captain Conwell. In Camp at Springfield, Mass.\nThe Famous Gold-sheathed Sword.\n\nChapter IX.--In the Thick of the Fight. Company F at Newberne, N.C. The\nFight at Batchelor's Creek. The Goldsboro Expedition. The Battle of\nKingston. The Gum Swamp Expedition.\n\nChapter X.--The Sword and the School Book. Scouting at Bogue Sound.\nCaptain Conwell Wounded. The Second Enlistment. Jealousy and\nMisunderstanding. Building of the First Free School for Colored\nChildren. Attack on Newport Barracks. Heroic Death of John Ring.\n\nChapter XI.--A Soldier of the Cross. Under Arrest for Absence Without\nLeave. Order of Court Reversed by President. Certificate from State\nLegislature of Massachusetts for Patriotic Services. Appointed by\nPresident Lincoln, Lieutenant-Colonel on General McPherson's Staff.\nWounded at Kenesaw Mountain. Conversion. Public Profession of Faith.\n\nChapter XII.--Westward. Resignation from Army. Admission to Bar.\nMarriage. Removal to Minnesota. Founding of the Minneapolis Y.M.C.A.\nand of the Present \"Minneapolis Tribune.\" Burning of Home. Breaking Out\nof Wound. Appointed Emigration Agent to Germany by Governor of\nMinnesota. Joins Surveying Party to Palestine. Near to Death in Paris\nHospital. Journey to New York for Operation in Bellevue Hospital. Return\nto Boston.\n\nChapter XIII.--Writing His Way Around the World. Days of Poverty in\nBoston. Sent to Southern Battlefields. Around the World for New York and\nBoston Papers. In a Gambling Den in Hong Kong, China. Cholera and\nShipwreck.\n\nChapter XIV.--Busy Days in Boston. Editor of \"Boston Traveller.\" Free\nLegal Advice for the Poor. Temperance Work. Campaign Manager for General\nNathaniel P. Banks. Urged for Consulship at Naples. His Work for the\nWidows and Orphans of Soldiers.\n\nChapter XV.--Troubled Days. Death of Wife. Loss of Money. Preaching on\nWharves. Growth of Sunday School Class at Tremont Temple from Four to\nSix Hundred Members in a Brief Time. Second Marriage. Death of Father\nand Mother. Preaching at Lexington. Building Lexington Baptist Church.\n\nChapter XVI.--His Entry Into the Ministry. Ordination. First Charge at\nLexington. Call to Grace Baptist Church, Philadelphia.\n\nChapter XVII.--Going to Philadelphia. The Early History of Grace Baptist\nChurch. The Beginning of the Sunday Breakfast Association. Impressions\nof a Sunday Service.\n\nChapter XVIII.--First Days at Grace Baptist Church. Early Plans for\nChurch Efficiency. Practical Methods for.\n\nChapter XXXI.--The Manner of the Message. The Style of the Sermons.\nTheir Subject Matter. Preaching to Help Some Individual Church Member.\n\nChapter XXXII.--These Busy Later Days. A Typical Week Day. A Typical\nSunday. Mrs. Conwell. Back to the Berkshires in Summer for Rest.\n\nChapter XXXIII.--As a Lecturer. Wide Fame as a Lecturer. Date of Entrance\non Lecture Platform. Number of Lectures Given. The Press on His\nLectures. Some Instances of How His Lectures Have Helped People. Address\nat Banquet to President McKinley.\n\nChapter XXXIV.--As a Writer. Rapid Method of Working. A Popular\nBiographical Writer. The Books He has Written.\n\nChapter XXXV.--A Home Coming. Reception Tendered by Citizens of\nPhiladelphia in Acknowledgment of Work as Public Benefactor.\n\nChapter XXXVI.--The Path That Has Been Blazed. Problems That Need\nSolving. The Need of Men Able to Solve Them.\n\nAcres of Diamonds.\n\nPersonal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women.\n\n[Illustration: MARTIN CONWELL]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nANCESTRY\n\n\nJohn Conwell, the English Ancestor who fought for the Preservation of\nthe English Language. Martin Conwell of Maryland. A Runaway Marriage.\nThe Parents of Russell Conwell.\n\nWhen the Norman-French overran England and threatened to sweep from\nout the island the English language, many time-honored English\ncustoms, and all that those loyal early Britons held dear, a doughty\nEnglishman, John Conwell, took up cudgels in their defence. Long and\nbitter was the struggle he waged to preserve the English language.\nInsidious and steady were the encroachments of the Norman-French\ntongue. The storm centre was the Castle school, for John Conwell\nrealized that the language of the child of to-day is the language of\nthe man of to-morrow. Right royal was the battle, for it was in those\nold feudal days of strong feeling and bitter, bloody partisanship. But\nthis plucky Briton stood to his guns until he won. Norman-French was\nbeaten back, English was taught in the schools, and preserved in the\nspeech of that day.\n\nIt was a tale that was told his children and his children's children.\nIt was a tradition that grew into their blood--the story of\nperseverance, the story of a fight against oppression and injustice.\n\"Blood\" is after all but family traditions and family ideals, and this\nfighting ancestor handed down to his descendants an inheritance of\ngreater worth than royal lineage or feudal castle. The centuries\nrolled away, a new world was discovered, and the progressive,\nenergetic Conwell family were not to be held back when adventure\nbeckoned. Two members of it came to America. Courage of a high\norder, enthusiasm, faith, must they have had, or the call to cross\na perilous, pathless ocean, to brave unknown dangers in a new world\nwould have found no response in their hearts. They settled in Maryland\nand into this fighting pioneer blood entered that strange magic\ninfluence of the South, which makes for romance, for imagination, for\nthe poetic and ideal in temperament.\n\n[Illustration: MIRANDA CONWELL]\n\nOf this family came Martin Conwell, of Baltimore, hot-blooded, proud,\nwho in 1810, visiting a college chum in western Massachusetts, met\nand fell in love with a New England girl, Miss Hannah Niles. She was\nalready engaged to a neighbor's son, but the Southerner cared naught\nfor a rival. He wooed earnestly, passionately. He soon swept away her\nprotests, won her heart and the two ran away and were married. But\ntragic days were ahead. On her return her incensed father locked her\nin her room and by threats and force compelled her to write a note to\nher young husband renouncing him. He would accept no such message, but\nsent a note imploring a meeting in a nearby schoolhouse at nightfall.\nThe letter fell into the father's hands. He compelled her to write a\ncurt reply bidding him leave her \"forever.\" Then the father locked\nthe daughter safely in the attic, and with a mob led by the rejected\nsuitor, surrounded the schoolhouse and burnt it to the ground. The\nhusband, thinking he had been heartlessly forsaken, made a brave fight\nagainst the odds, but seeing no hope of success, leaped from the\nburning building, amid the shots fired at him, escaped down a rocky\nembankment at the back of the schoolhouse, and under cover of the\nwoods, fled. They told his wife that he was dead.\n\nA little son came to brighten her shadowed life, whom she named, after\nhim, Martin Conwell; and after seven years she married her early\nlover. But Martin was the son of her first husband and always her\ndearest child, and day after day when old and gray and again a widow,\nshe would come over the New England hills, a little lonely old woman,\nto sit by his fireside and dream of those bygone days that were so\nsweet.\n\nToo proud to again seek an explanation, Martin Conwell, her husband,\nreturned to his Maryland home, living a lonely, bitter life, believing\nto the day of his death, thirty years later, that his young wife had\nrepudiated and betrayed him.\n\nMartin Conwell, the son, grew to manhood and in 1839 brought a bride\nto a little farm he had purchased at South Worthington, up in the\nHampshire Highlands of the Berkshire Hills in Massachusetts. Here and\nthere among these hills, along the swift mountain streams, the land\nsweeps out into sunny little meadows filled in summer with rich,\ntender grasses, starred with flowers. It is not a fertile land. The\nrocks creep out with frequent and unpleasing persistency. But Martin\nConwell viewed life cheerfully, and being an ingenious man, added to\nthe business of farming, several other occupations, and so managed to\nmake a living, and after many years to pay the mortgage on his home\nwhich came with the purchase. The little farmhouse, clinging to the\nbleak hillside, seemed daring to the point of recklessness when the\nwinter's winds swept down the valley, and the icy fingers of the storm\nreached out as if to pluck it bodily from its exposed position.\n\nBut when spring wove her mantle of green over the hills, when summer\nflung its leafy banners from a million tree tops, then in the\nwonderful panorama of beauty that spread before it, was the little\nhome justified for the dangers it had dared. Back of the house the\nland climbed into a little ridge, with great, gray rocks here and\nthere, spots of cool, restful color amid the lavish green and gold and\npurple of nature's carpeting. To the north swept hills clothed with\nthe deep, rich green of hemlock, the faint green flutter of birch, the\ndense foliage of sugar maples. To the east, in the valley, a singing\nsilver brook flashed in and out among somber boulders, the land\nascending to sunny hilltop pastures beyond. But toward the south from\nthe homestead lay the gem of the scenery; one of the most beautiful\npictures the Berkshires know. Down the valley the hills divided,\nsweeping upward east and west in magnificent curves; and through the\nopening, range on range of distant mountains, including Mount Tom,\nfilled the view with an ever-changing fairyland of beauty--in the\nspring a sea of tender, misty green; in the summer, a deep, heaving\nocean of billowy foliage; in the fall, a very carnival of color--gold,\nrich reds, deep glowing browns and orange. And always, at morning,\nnoon and night, was seen subtle tenderness of violet shadows, of hazy\nblue mists, of far-away purple distances.\n\nSuch was the site Martin Conwell chose for a home, a site that told\nsomething of his own character; that had marked influence on the\nfamily that grew up in the little farmhouse.\n\nA mixture of the practical, hard common sense of New England and the\nsympathetic, poetic temperament of the South was in this young New\nEngland farmer--the genial, beauty-loving nature of his Southern\nfather, the rigid honesty, the strong convictions, the shrewd sense of\nhis Northern mother. Quiet and reserved in general, he was to those\nwho knew him well, kind-hearted, broad-minded, fun-loving. He not\nonly took an active interest in the affairs of the little mountain\ncommunity, but his mind and heart went out to the big problems of the\nnation. He grappled with them, sifted them thoroughly, and having\ndecided what to him was the right course to pursue, expressed his\nconvictions in deed as well as word. His was no passive nature. The\nsquare chin denoted the man of will and aggression, and though the\ngenial mouth and kindly blue eyes bespoke the sympathetic heart, they\nshowed no lack of courage to come out in the open and take sides.\n\nThe young wife, Miranda Conwell, shared these broader interests of her\nhusband. She came from central New York State and did not have that\nNew England reserve and restraint that amounts almost to coldness. Her\nmind was keen and vigorous and reached out with her husband's to grasp\nand ponder the higher things of life. But the beauty of her character\nlay in the loving, affectionate nature that shone from her dark eyes,\nin the patient, self-sacrificing, self-denying disposition which found\nits chief joy in ministering to her husband and children. Deeply\nreligious, she could no more help whispering a fervent little prayer,\nas she tucked her boys in bed, that the Father above would watch over\nand protect them, than she could help breathing, her trust in God\nwas so much a part of her nature. Such a silent, beautiful influence\nunconsciously permeates a child's whole character, moulding it,\nsetting it. Unconscious of it at the time, some day a great event\nsuddenly crystalizes it like a wonderful chemical change, and the\nbeauty of it shines evermore from his life. Miranda Conwell built\nbetter than she knew when in the every-day little things of her life,\nshe let her faith shine.\n\nNot a usual couple, by any means, for the early 40's in rugged New\nEngland. Yet their unusualness was of a kind within every one's reach.\nThey believed the making of a life of more importance than the making\nof a living, and they grasped every opportunity of those meagre days\nto broaden and uplift their mental and spiritual vision. Martin\nConwell's thoughts went beyond his plow furrow, Miranda's further than\nher bread-board; and so the little home had an atmosphere of earnest\nthought and purpose that clothed the uncarpeted floors and bare walls\nwith dignity and beauty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nEARLY ENVIRONMENT\n\nThe Family Circle. An Unusual Mother. What She Read Her Children. A\nPreacher at Three Years of Age.\n\n\nSuch was the heritage and the home into which Russell H. Conwell\nwas born February 15, 1843. Think what a world his eyes opened\nupon--\"fair, searching eyes of youth\"--steadfast hills holding mystery\nand fascination in green depths and purple distances, streams rushing\nwith noisy joy over stony beds, sweet violet gloom of night with\nbrilliant stars moving silently across infinite space; tender moss,\ndelicate fern, creeping vine, covering the brown earth with living\nbeauty--a fascinating world of loveliness for boyish eyes to look upon\nand wonder about.\n\nThe home inside was as unpretentious as its exterior suggested. The\ntiny hall admitted on one side to a bedroom, on the other to a living\nroom, from which opened a room used as a store. Above was an attic.\nThe living room was the bright, cheery heart of the house. The morning\nsun poured in through two windows which faced the east; a window and\ndoor on the south claimed the same cheery rays as the sun journeyed\nwestward. The big open fireplace made a glowing spot of brightness.\nThe floor was uncarpeted, the walls unpapered, the furnishing of the\nsimplest, yet cheerfulness and homely comfort pervaded the room as\nwith an almost tangible spirit.\n\nA brother three years older and a sister three years younger made a\ntrio of bright, childish faces about the hearth on winter evenings\nas the years went by, while the mother read to them such tales as\nchildish minds could grasp. It was a loving little circle, one that\nriveted sure and fast the ties of family affection and which helped\none boy at her knee in after life to enter with such sure sympathy\ninto the plain, simple lives of the humblest people he met. He had\nlived that same life, he knew the family affection that grows with\nsuch strength around simple firesides, and those of like circumstances\nfelt this knowledge and opened their hearts to him.\n\nThat Miranda Conwell was an unusual woman for those times and\ncircumstances is shown in those readings to her children. Not only\ndid she read and explain to them the beautiful stories of the Bible,\nimplanting its truths in their impressionable natures to blossom forth\nlater in beautiful deeds; but she read them the best literature of the\nancient days as well as current literature. Into this poor New England\nhome came the \"New York Tribune\" and the \"National Era.\" The letters\nof foreign correspondents opened to their childish eyes another world\nand roused ambitions to see it. Henry Ward Beecher's sermons, and\n\"Uncle Tom's Cabin,\" when it came out as a serial, all such good and\nhelpful literature, she poured into the eager childish ears. These\nreadings went on, all through the happy days of childhood.\n\nInteresting things were happening in the world then; things that were\nto mould the future of one of the boys at her knee in a way she little\ndreamed. A war was being waged in Mexico to train soldiers for a\ngreater war coming. Out in Illinois, a plain rail-splitter, farmer and\nlawyer was beginning to be heard in the cause of freedom and justice\nfor all men, black or white. These rumors and discussions drifted into\nthe little home and arguments rose high around the crackling woodfire\nas neighbors dropped in. Martin Conwell was not a man to watch\npassively the trend of events. He took sides openly, vigorously, and\nthough the small, blue-eyed boy listening so attentively did not\ncomprehend all that it was about, Martin Conwell's views later took\nshape in action that had a marked bearing on Russell's later life.\n\nBut the mother's reading bore more immediate, if less useful, fruit.\nHearing rather unusual sounds from the back yard one day, she went\nto the door to listen. The evening before she had been reading the\nchildren one of the sermons of Henry Ward Beecher and telling them\nsomething of this great man and his work. Mounted upon one of the\nlargest gray rocks in the yard, stood Russell, solemnly preaching to\na collection of wondering, round-eyed chickens. It was a serious,\nimpressive discourse he gave them, much of it, no doubt, a transcript\nof Henry Ward Beecher's. What led his boyish fancy to do it, no\none knew, though many another child has done the same, as children\ndramatize in play the things they have heard or read. But a chance\nremark stamped that childish action upon the boyish imagination,\nmaking it the corner stone of many a childish castle in Spain. Telling\nher husband of it in the evening, Miranda Conwell said, half jokingly,\n\"our boy will some day be a great preacher.\" It was a fertile seed\ndropped in a fertile mind, tilled assiduously for a brief space by\nvivid childish imagination; but not ripened till sad experiences of\nlater years brought it to a glorious fruition.\n\nAnother result of the fireside readings might have been serious. A\nshort distance from the house a mountain stream leaps and foams over\nthe stones, seeming to choose, as Ruskin says, \"the steepest places\nto come down for the sake of the leaps, scattering its handfuls of\ncrystal this way and that as the wind takes them.\" The walls of the\ngorge rise sheer and steep; the path of the stream is strewn with huge\nboulders, over which it foams snow white, pausing in quiet little\npools for breath before the next leap and scramble. Here and there at\nthe sides, stray tiny little waterfalls, very Thoreaus of streamlets,\ncontent to wander off by themselves, away from the noisy rush of the\nothers, making little silvery rills of beauty in unobtrusive ways.\nOver this gorge was a fallen log. Russell determined to enact the part\nof Eliza in \"Uncle Tom's Cabin,\" fleeing over the ice. It was a feat\nto make a mother's heart stand still. Three separate times she\nwhipped him severely and forbade him to do it. He took the punishment\ncheerfully, and went back to the log. He never gave up until he had\ncrossed it.\n\nThe vein of perseverance in his character was already setting into\nfirm, unyielding mould--the one trait to which Russell H. Conwell, the\npreacher, the lecturer, writer, founder of college and hospital, may\nattribute the success he has gained. This childish escapade was the\nfirst to strike fire from its flint.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nDAYS OF STUDY, WORK AND PLAY\n\nThe Schoolhouse in the Woods. Maple Sugar-making. The Orator of the\nDawn. A Boyish Prank. Capturing the Eagle's Nest.\n\n\nAt three years of age, he trudged off to school with his brother\nCharles. Though Charles was three years the senior, the little fellow\nstruggled to keep pace with him in all their childish play and work.\nTwo miles the children walked daily to the schoolhouse, a long walk\nfor a toddler of three. But it laid the foundation of that strong,\nrugged constitution that has carried him so unflinchingly through\nthe hard work of these later years. The walk to school was the most\nimportant part of the performance, for lessons had no attraction for\nthe boy as yet. But the road through the woods to the schoolhouse was\na journey of ever new and never-ending excitement. The road lay along\na silver-voiced brook that rippled softly by shadowy rock, or splashed\njoyous and exultant down its boulder-strewn path. It was this same\nbrook whose music drifted into his little attic bedroom at night,\nstilled to a faint, far-away murmur as the wind died down, rising to a\nhigh, clear crescendo of rushing, tumbling water as the breeze stirred\nin the tree tops and brought to him the forest sounds. Hour after\nhour he lay awake listening to it, his childish imagination picturing\nfairies and elves holding their revels in the woods beyond. An\noratorical little brook it was, unconsciously leaving an impress of\nits musical speech on the ears of the embryo orator. Moreover, in its\nquiet pools lurked watchful trout. Few country boys could walk along\nsuch a stream unheeding its fascinations, especially when the doors\nof a school house opened at the farther end, and many an hour when\nstudies should have claimed him, he was sitting by the brookside,\ncare-free and contented, delightedly fishing. Nor are any berries\nquite so luscious as those which grow along the country road to\nschool. It takes long, long hours to satisfy the keen appetite of\na boy, and lessons suffered during the berry seasons. Another keen\nexcitement of the daily journey through a living world of mystery and\nenchantment was the search for frogs. Woe to the unlucky frog that\nfell in the way of the active, curious boy. Some one had told him that\nold, old countryside story, \"If you kill a frog, the cows will give\nbloody milk.\" Eager to see such a phenomenon, he watched sharply. Let\nan unlucky frog give one unfortunate croak, quick, sure-aimed, flew a\nstone, and he raced home at night to see the miracle performed. He was\njust a boy as other boys--mischievous, disobedient, fonder of play\nthan work or study. But underneath, uncalled upon as yet, lay that\nvein of perseverance as unyielding as the granite of his native hills.\n\nThe schoolhouse inside was not unattractive. Six windows gave plenty\nof light, and each framed woodland pictures no painter's canvas could\nrival. The woods were all about and the voice of the little\nbrook floated in, always calling, calling--at least to one small\nlistener--to come out and see it dance and sparkle and leap from rock\nto rock. If he gained nothing else from his first school days but a\nlove and appreciation of nature's beauties, it was a lesson well worth\nlearning. To feed the heart and imagination of a child with such\nscenery is to develop unconsciously a love of the beautiful which\nbrings a pure joy into life never to be lost, no matter what stress\nand storm may come. In the darkest, stormiest hours of his later life,\nto think back to the serene beauty of those New England hills was as a\nhand of peace laid on his troubled spirit.\n\nThis love and joy in nature--and the trait was already in his\nblood--was at first all that he gained from his trips to school. Then\ncame a teacher with a new way of instructing, a Miss Salina Cole, who\nhad mastered the art of visual memory. She taught her pupils to make\non the mind a photographic impression of the page, which could be\nrecalled in its entirety, even to the details of punctuation. This\nwas a process of study that appealed immediately to Russell's boyish\nimagination. Moreover, it was something to \"see if he could do,\"\nalways fascinating to his love of experiment and adventure. It had\nnumerous other advantages. It was quick. It promised far-reaching\nresults. If page after page of the school books could be stored in the\nmind and called up for future reference, getting an education would\nbecome an easy matter. Besides, they could be called up and pondered\non in various places--fishing, for instance. He quickly decided\nto would master this new method, and he went at it with his\ncharacteristic energy and determination. Concentrating all his mental\nforce, he would study intently the printed page, and then closing his\neyes, repeat it word for word, even giving the punctuation marks. With\nthe other pupils, Salina Cole was not so successful, but with Russell\nConwell, the results were remarkable. It was a faculty of the utmost\nvalue to him in after years. When in military camp and far from books,\nhe would recall page after page of his law works and study them during\nthe long days of garrison duty as easily as though the printed book\nwere in his hand.\n\nBut the work was of more value to him than the mere mastery of\nsomething new. It whetted his appetite for more. He began to want to\nknow. School became interesting, and he plunged into studies with an\ninterest and zest that were unflagging. And as he studied, ambitions\nawoke. The history of the past, the accomplishments of great men\nstirred him. He began to dream of the things to do in the days to\ncome.\n\nOutside of school hours his time was filled with the ordinary duties\nof the farm. In the early spring, the maple sugar was to be made\nand there were long, difficult tramps through woods in those misty,\nbrooding days when the miracle of new life is working in tree and vine\nand leaf. Often the very earth seemed hushed as if waiting in awe for\nthis marvelous change that transforms brown earth and bare tree to a\nvision of ethereal, tender green. But his books went with him, and in\nthe long night watches far in the woods alone, when the pans of sirrup\nwere boiling, he studied. So enrapt did he become that sometimes the\nsugar suffered, and the patience of his father was sorely taxed when\ntold the tale of inattention.\n\nIt was during those long night watches that he learned by heart two\nbooks of Milton's \"Paradise Lost,\" and so firmly were they fixed\nin the boyish memory that at this day, Dr. Conwell can repeat them\nwithout a break. Many a time as the shadows lightened and the dim,\nmisty dawn came stealing through the forest, would the small boy step\noutside the rude sugar-house and repeat in that musical, resonant\nvoice that has since held audiences enthralled, Milton's glorious\n\"Invocation to the Light.\" Strange scene--the great shadowy forest,\nthe distant mist-enfolded hills, the faintly flushing morning sky,\nthe faint splash of a little mountain stream breaking the brooding\nstillness, and the small boy with intent, inspired face pouring out\nhis very heart in that wonderful invocation:\n\n  \"Hail, holy light, offspring of Heaven, Firstborn\n  Or of the Eternal, co-eternal beam,\n  May I express thee Unblamed? since God is light,\n  And never but in unapproached light\n  Dwelt from eternity--dwelt then in thee,\n  Bright effluence of bright essence increate!\n  Or hear'st thou, rather, pure Eternal Stream,\n  Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun,\n  Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice\n  Of God as with a mantle didst invest\n  The rising world of waters dark and deep,\n  Won from the void and formless Infinite!\"\n\nLater in spring there was plowing, though the farm was so rocky and\nstony, there was little of that work to do. But here and there, a\nsunny hilltop field made cultivation worth while, and as he followed\nthe patient oxen along the shining brown furrow, he looked away to the\nencircling hills so full of mystery and fascination. What was there?\nWhat was beyond? Then into the the morning and well into the afternoon\nthey pried and labored. They dug away earth and exerted to the utmost\ntheir childish strength. Charles would soon have given up the gigantic\ntask, but Russell was not of the stuff that quits, and so they toiled\non. The father and mother at home wondered and searched for the boys.\nThen as they began truly to get alarmed, from the woods to the south\ncame a crash and roar, the sound of trees snapping and then a shock\nthat made the earth tremble. The rock had fallen, traversing a mile,\nin its downward rush to the river bed. Flushed and triumphant the\nboys returned, and the neighbors who had heard the noise, when it was\nexplained to them, went to see the wreckage. It had dropped first a\nfall of fifteen feet, where it had paused an instant. Then the earth\ngiving way under its tons of weight, it had plowed a deep furrow right\ndown the mountain side, dislodging rocks, uprooting trees, until with\na mighty crash, it struck the borders of the stream where it stands to\nthis day, a monument to boyish ingenuity and perseverance.\n\nBut of all the mischievous pranks of these childish days, the one that\nhad perhaps the greatest influence on his life was the capture of\nan eagle's nest from the top of a dead hemlock. To the north of the\nfarmhouse a hill rises abruptly, covered with bare, outcropping rocks,\ntheir fronts sheer and steep. On top clusters a little sombre grove\nof hemlock trees, and from the midst of these rose the largest one,\nstraight, majestic, swaying a little in the wind that swept on from\nthe distant hills. In the top of this tree, an eagle had built her\nnest, and it had long been a secret ambition of the boy to capture\nit, the more resolved upon because it seemed impossible. One day in\nOctober he left his sheep, ran to the foot of the hill, and with the\nsure-footed agility of a mountain boy climbed the rocks and began the\nascent of the tree. From the top of a high ledge nearby two men hid\nand watched him. A fall meant death, and many a time their hearts\nstood still, as the intrepid lad placed his foot on a dead branch only\nto have it break under him, or reached for a limb to find it give way\nat his touch. The tree was nearly fifty feet high and at some time a\nstroke of lightning had rent it, splintering the trunk. Only one limb\nwas left whole, the others had been broken off or shattered by the\nstorms of winter. In the very crown of the tree swayed the nest, a\nrude, uncouth thing of sticks and hay.\n\nUp and up he climbed, stopping every now and then in the midst of his\nstruggles to call to the sheep if he saw them wandering too far. He\nhad only to call them by name to bring them nibbling back again.\n\n\"Not a man in the mountains,\" wrote one of those who watched him in\nthat interesting sketch of Mr. Conwell's life, \"Scaling the Eagle's\nNest,\" \"would have thought it possible to do anything else but shoot,\nthat nest down. When we first saw him he was half way up the great\ntree, and was tugging away to get up by a broken limb which was\nswinging loosely about the trunk. For a long time he tried to break it\noff, but his little hand was too weak. Then he came down from knot to\nknot like a squirrel, jumped to the ground, ran to his little jacket\nand took his jack-knife out of the pocket. Slowly he clambered up\nagain. When he reached the limb, he clung to another with his left\nhand, threw one leg over a splintered knot and with the right hand\nhacked away with his knife.\n\n\"'He will give it up,' we both said.\n\n\"But he did not. He chipped away until at last the limb fell to the\nground. Then he pocketed his knife, and bravely strove to get up\nhigher. It was a dizzy height even for a grown hunter, but the boy\nnever looked down. He went on until he came to a place about ten feet\nbelow the nest, where there was a long, bare space on the trunk, with\nno limbs or knots to cling to. He was baffled then. He looked up at\nthe nest many times, tried to find some place to catch hold of the\nrough bark and sought closely for some rest higher up to put his foot\non. But there was none. An eagle's nest was a rare thing to him, and\nhe hugged the tree and thought. Suddenly he began to descend again\nhastily, and soon dropped to the ground. Away he ran down through the\nravines, leaped the little streams and disappeared toward his home.\nIn a few minutes the torn straw hat and blue shirt came flitting back\namong the rocks and bushes. He called the sheep to him, talked to\nthem, and shook his finger at them, then he clambered up the tree\nagain, dragging after him a long piece of his mother's clothes line.\nAt one end of it, he had tied a large stone, which hindered his\nprogress, for it caught in the limbs and splinters. The wind blew his\ntorn straw hat away down a side cliff, and one side of his trousers\nwas soon torn to strips. But he went on. When he got to the smooth\nplace on the tree again, he fastened one end of the rope about his\nwrist, and then taking the stone which was fastened to the other end,\nhe tried to throw it up over the nest. It was an awkward and dangerous\nposition, and the stone did not reach the top. Six or seven times he\nthrew that stone up, and it fell short or went to one side, and nearly\ndragged him down as it fell.\n\n\"The boy felt for his knife again, opened it with his teeth as he held\non, and hauling the rope up, cut off a part of it. He threw a short\npiece around the trunk and tied himself with it to the tree. Then\nhe could lean back for a longer throw. He tied the rope to his hand\nagain, and threw the stone with all his energy. It went straight as an\narrow, drew the rope squarely over the nest and fell down the other\nside of the tree. After a struggle he reached around for the stone,\nand tied that end of the rope to a long broken limb. When he drew the\nother end of the rope which had been fastened to his hand, it broke\ndown the sides of the nest, and an old bird arose with a wild scream.\n\n\"Then he loosed the rope which held him to the tree, and pulling\nhimself up with his hands on the scaling line, digging his bare toes,\nheels and knees at times into the ragged bark, he was up in two\nminutes to the nest.\"\n\n\"That is a child's ambition,\" said one of the men, as they both drew a\nbreath of relief, when he stepped safely to the ground. \"Wait until he\nhas a man's ambition. If that vein of perseverance doesn't run out, he\nwill do something worth while.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTWO MEN AND THEIR INFLUENCE\n\nJohn Brown. Fireside Discussions. Runaway Slaves. Fred Douglas. Rev.\nAsa Niles. A Runaway Trip to Boston.\n\n\nTwo men entered into Russell Conwell's life in these formative days of\nboyhood who unconsciously had much to do with the course of his after\nlife.\n\nOne was John Brown, that man \"who would rush through fire though it\nburn, through water though it drown, to do the work which his soul\nknew that it must do.\" During his residence in Springfield, this man\n\"possessed like Socrates with a genius that was too much for him\" was\na frequent visitor at the Conwell home. Russell learned to know that\nface with \"features chiselled, as it were, in granite,\" the large\nclear eyes that seemed fairly to change color with the intensity of\nhis feelings when he spoke on the one subject that was the very heart\nof the man. Tall, straight, lithe, with hair brushed back from a high\nforehead, thick, full beard and a wonderful, penetrating voice whose\ntones once heard were never forgotten, his arrival was always received\nwith shouts by the Conwell boys. Had he not lived in the West and\nfought real Indians! What surer \"open sesame\" is there to a boy's\nheart? He was not so enrapt in his one great project, but that he\ncould go out to the barn and pitch down hay from the mow with Russell,\nor tell him wonderful stories of the great West where he had lived as\na boy, and of the wilderness through which he had tramped as a mere\nchild when he cared for his father's cattle. Russell was entirely too\nyoung to grasp the meaning of the earnest discussions that went on\nabout the fireplace of which this Spartan was then the centre. But in\nlater years their meaning came to him with a peculiar significance. A\nlight seemed to be shed on the horrors of slavery as if the voice of\nhis childhood's friend were calling from the grave in impassioned\ntones, to aid the cause for which he had given his life.\n\nMartin Conwell, progressive, aggressive, was not a man to let his\ndeeds lag behind his words. Such help as he could, he lent the\ncause of the oppressed. He made his home one of the stations of the\n\"Underground Railway,\" as the road to freedom for escaping slaves was\ncalled. Many a time in the dead of night, awakened by the noise of a\nwagon, Russell would steal to the little attic window, to see in the\nlight of the lantern, a trembling black man, looking fearfully this\nway and that for pursuers, being hurried into the barn. Back to bed\nwent Russell, where his imagination pictured all manner of horrible\ncruelties the slaves were suffering until the childish heart was near\nto bursting with sympathy for them and with fiery indignation at the\ninjustice that brought them to this pitiful state. Not often did he\nsee them, but sometimes childish curiosity was too strong and he\nsearched out the cowering fugitive in the barn, and if the runaway\nhappened to be communicative, he heard exaggerated tales of cruelty\nthat set even his young blood to tingling with a mighty desire to\nright their wrongs. Then the next night, the wagon wheels were heard\nagain and the slave was hurried away to the house of a cousin of\nWilliam Cullen Bryant, at Cummington. As the wheels died in the\ndistance up the mountain road, the boyish imagination pictured the\nflight, on, on, into the far north till the Canada border was reached\nand the slave free. Little wonder that when the war broke out, this\nboy, older grown, spoke as with a tongue of fire and swept men up by\nthe hundreds with his impassioned eloquence, to sign the muster roll.\n\nOne of these slaves thus helped to freedom is now Rev. J.G. Ramage, of\nAtlanta, Ga. In 1905, he applied to Temple College for the degree of\nLL.D. Noticing on the letter sent in reply to his request, the name\nof Russell Conwell, President of the College, he wrote Dr. Conwell,\ntelling him that in 1856 when a runaway slave he had stopped at a\nfarmhouse at South Worthington, Mass., and remembered the name of\nConwell. Undoubtedly Martin Conwell was one of the men who had helped\nhim to freedom.\n\nJohn Brown brought Fred Douglas, the colored orator, with him on one\nof his visits. When Russell was told by his father that this was \"a\ncelebrated colored speaker and statesman,\" the boyish eyes opened wide\nwith amazement, and not able to control himself, he burst out in a fit\nof laughter, saying, \"Why, he's not black,\" much to the amusement of\nDouglas, who afterwards told him of his life as a slave.\n\nThe other man who so helped Russell in his younger days was the Rev.\nAsa Niles, a cousin of his father's who lived on a neighboring farm.\nHe had heard of Russell's various exploits and saw that he was a boy\nfar above the average, that he had talents worth training. Himself a\nscholar and a Methodist minister, he knew the value of an education,\nand the worth to the world of a brilliant, forceful character with\nclear ideas of right, and high ideals of duty. He was a man far ahead\nof his times, broad-minded, spiritual in its best sense, and with\na winning personality, just the man to attract a clear-sighted,\nkeen-witted boy who quickly saw through shams and despised\naffectations. Russell at that plastic period could have fallen into\nno better hands. With loving interest in the boy's welfare, Asa Niles\ninspired him to get the broadest education in order to make the most\nof himself, yet ever held before him the highest ideals of life and\nmanhood. Out of the stores of his own knowledge he told him what to\nread, helped, encouraged, talked over his studies with him, and in\nevery way possible not only made them real and vital to him, but at\nevery step aided him to see their worth.\n\nHis curiosity keenly aroused, his ambitions kindled by his studies,\nRussell was restless to be off to see this great world he had read and\nstudied about. The mountains suddenly seemed like prison walls holding\nhim in. An uncontrollable longing swept his soul. He determined to\nescape. Telling no one of his intentions, one morning just before\ndawn, he raised the window of the little attic in which he and his\nbrother slept, climbed out over the roof of the woodshed, slipped to\nthe ground and made off down the valley to seek his fortune in the\nworld. It was a hasty resolve. In a little bundle slung over his\nshoulders he had a few clothes and something to eat. How his heart\nthumped as he went down the familiar path in the woods, crossed the\nlittle brook and began the tramp toward Huntington! Every moment he\nexpected to hear his father's footsteps behind him. Charles might have\nawakened, found him missing and roused the family! When morning came\nhe climbed a little hill, from which he could look back at the house.\nHe gazed long, and his heart nearly failed him. He could see in\nimagination every homely detail of the living room, his father's chair\nto the right of the fireplace, his mother's on the left, the clock\nbetween the front windows, which his father wound every night. On a\nnail hung his old rimless hat, Charlie's coat, and the little sister's\nsunbonnet. His mother would soon be up and getting breakfast. They\nwould all sit down without him--a lump began to rise in his throat and\nhe almost turned back. But something in his nature always prevented\nhim from giving up a thing he had once undertaken. He set his teeth,\npicked up his bundle and went down the road between the mountains,\nthe woods stretching, dense, silent, on each side, the little brook\nkeeping close by him like the good, true friend it was.\n\nIt was a long, long tramp to the little village of Huntington, a walk\nthat went for miles beneath overarching green trees, the sunlight\nsifting down like a shower of gold in the dim wood aisles. The wild\nmountain stream merged into the quiet Westfield river that flowed\nplacidly through little sunny meadows and rippled in a sedate way here\nand there over stones as became the dignity of a river. Small white\nfarmhouses, set about with golden lilies and deep crimson peonies,\nhere and there looked out on the road. But his mind was intent on the\nwonderful experiences ahead of him; he walked as in a dream. Reaching\nHuntington, he asked a conductor if he could get a job on the train to\npay his way to Boston. The conductor eyed the lanky country boy with\nsympathetic amusement. He appreciated the situation and told Russell\nhe didn't think he had any job just then, but he might sit in the\nbaggage car and should a job turn up, it would be given him. Delighted\nwith this piece of good luck, Russell sat in the baggage car and\njourneyed to Boston.\n\nHe arrived at night. He found himself in a new world, a world of\nnarrow streets, of hurrying people, of house after house, but in none\nof them a home for him. They would not let him sit in the station all\nnight, as he had planned to do in his boyish inexperience, and he\nhad no money, for money was a scarce article in the Conwell home. He\nwandered up one street and down another till finally he came to the\nwater. Footsore and hungry, he crawled into a big empty cask lying on\nLong Wharf, ate the last bit of bread and meat in his bundle, and went\nto sleep.\n\nThe next day was Sunday, not a day to find work, and he faced a very\nsure famine. He began again his walk of the streets. It was on\ntoward noon when he noticed crowds of children hurrying into a large\nbuilding. He stood and watched them wistfully. They made him think\nof his brother and sister at home. Suddenly an overwhelming longing\nseized him to be back again in the sheltering farmhouse, to see his\nfather, hear his mother's loving voice, feel his sister's hand in his.\nPerhaps it was his forlorn expression that attracted the attention of\na gentleman passing into the building. He stopped, asked if he would\nnot like to go in; and then taking him by the hand led him in with the\nothers. It was Deacon George W. Chipman, of Tremont Temple, and ever\nafterwards Russell Conwell's friend. Many, many years later, the boy,\nbecome a man, came back to this church, organized and conducted one of\nthe largest and most popular Sunday School classes that famous church\nhas ever known.\n\nAfter Sunday School, Deacon Chipman and Russell \"talked things over.\"\nThe Deacon, amused and impressed by the original mind of the country\nboy, persuaded him to go home, and the next morning put him on the\ntrain that carried him back to the Berkshires.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTRYING HIS WINGS\n\nBoyhood Days. Russell's First Case at Law. A Cure for Stage Fever.\nStudying Music. A Runaway Trip to Europe.\n\n\nSo scanty was the income from the rocky farm that the father and\nmother looked about them to see how they could add to it. Miranda\nConwell turned to her needle and often sewed far into the night,\nmaking coats, neckties, any work she could obtain that would bring in\na few dollars. She was never idle. The moment her housework was done,\nher needle was flying, and Russell had ever before him the picture of\nhis patient mother, working, ever working, for the family good. The\nonly time her hands rested was when she read her children such stories\nand pointed such lessons as she knew were needed to develop childish\nminds and build character. She never lost sight of this in the\npressing work and the need for money. She had that mental and\nspiritual breadth of view that could look beyond problems of the\nimmediate present, no matter how serious they might seem, to the\ngreater, more important needs coming in the future.\n\nMartin Conwell worked as a stonemason every spare minute, and in\naddition opened a store in the mountain home in a small room adjoining\nthe living room. Neighbors and the world of his day saw only a poor\nfarmer, stonemason and small storekeeper. But in versatility, energy\nand public spirit, he was far greater than his environment. Considered\nonly as the man there was a largeness of purpose, a broadness of\nmental and spiritual vision about him that gave a subtle atmosphere of\ngreatness and unconsciously influenced his son to take big views of\nlife.\n\nIn the little store one day was enacted a drama not without its effect\non Russell's impressionable mind. For a brief time, the store became\na court room; a flour barrel was the judge's bench, a soap box and\nmilking stool, the lawyers' seats. The proceedings greatly interested\nRussell, who lay flat on his breast on the counter, his heels in the\nair, his chin in his hands, drinking it in with ears and eyes.\n\n[Illustration: THE CONWELL FARMHOUSE AT SOUTH WORTHINGTON, MASS.]\n\nA neighbor had lost a calf, a white-faced calf with a broken horn. In\nthe barn of a neighbor had been seen a white-faced calf with a broken\nhorn. The coincidence was suspicions. The plaintiff declared it was\nhis calf. The defendant swore he had never seen the lost heifer, and\nthat the one in his barn he had raised himself. Neighbors lent their\ntestimony, for the little store was crowded, a justice of the peace\nfrom Northampton having come to try the case. One man said he had seen\nthe defendant driving a white-faced calf up the mountain one night\njust after the stolen calf had been missed from the pasture. The\ndefendant intimated in no mild language that he must be a close blood\nrelation to Ananias. Hot words flew back and forth between judge,\nlawyers and witnesses, and it began to look as if the man in whose\nbarn the calf was placidly munching was guilty. Just then Russell,\nwith a chuckle, slipped from the counter and disappeared through the\nback door. In a minute he returned, and solemnly pushed a white-faced\ncalf with a broken horn squarely among the almost fighting disputants.\nThere was a lull in the storm of angry words. Here was the lost calf.\nWith a bawl of dismay and many gyrations of tail, it occupied the\ncentre of the floor. None could dispute the fact that it was the calf\nin question. The defendant assumed an injured, innocent air, the\nplaintiff looked crestfallen. Russell explained he had found the calf\namong his father's cows. But, knowing the true situation, he had\nenjoyed the heated argument too hugely to produce the calf earlier in\nthe case.\n\nThe event caused much amusement among the neighbors. Some said if they\never were hailed to court, they should employ Russell as their lawyer.\nThe women, when they dropped in to see his mother, called him the\nlittle lawyer. The boyish ambition to be a minister faded. Once more\nhe went to building castles in Spain, but this time they had a legal\ncapstone.\n\nThus the years rolled by much as they do with any boy on a farm.\nOf work there was plenty, but he found time to become a proficient\nskater, and a strong, sturdy swimmer, to learn and take delight in\noutdoor sports, all of which helped to build a constitution like iron,\nand to give him an interest in such things which he has never\nlost. The boys of Temple College find in him not only a pastor and\npresident, but a sympathetic and understanding friend in all forms of\nhealthy, honorable sport.\n\nAttending a Fourth of July parade in Springfield, he was so impressed\nwith the marching and manoeuvres of the troops that he returned home,\nformed a company of his schoolmates, drilled and marched them as if\nthey were already an important part of the G.A.R. He secured a book on\ntactics and studied it with his usual thoroughness and perseverance.\nHe presented his company with badges, and one of the relics of his\nchildhood days is a wooden sword he made himself out of a piece of\nboard. Little did any one dream that this childish pastime would in\nlater years become the serious work of a man.\n\nIn all the school and church entertainments he took an active part.\nHis talent for organizing and managing showed itself early, while his\nmagnetism and enthusiasm swept his companions with him, eager only to\ndo his bidding. Many were the entertainments he planned and carried\nthrough. Recitations, dialogues, little plays all were presented under\nhis management to the people of South Worthington. It was these that\ngave him the first taste of the fascination of the stage and set him\nto thinking of the dazzling career of an actor. He is not the only\ncountry boy that has dreamed of winning undying fame on the boards,\nbut not every one received such a speedy and permanent cure.\n\n\"One day in the height of the maple sugar season,\" says Burdette, in\nhis excellent life of Mr. Conwell, \"The Modern Temple and Templars,\"\n\"Russell was sent by his father with a load of the sugar to\nHuntington. The ancient farm wagon complicated, doubtless, with sundry\nConwell improvements, drawn by a venerable horse, was so well loaded\nthat the seat had to be left out, and the youthful driver was forced\nto stand. Down deep in the valley, the road runs through a dense\nwoodland which veiled the way in solitude and silence. The very place,\nthought Russell, for a rehearsal of the part he had in a play to be\ngiven shortly at school; a beautiful grade, thought the horse, to trot\na little and make up time. Russell had been cast for a part of a crazy\nman--a character admirably adapted for the entire cast of the average\namateur dramatic performer. He had very little to say, a sort of\n'The-carriage-waits-my-lord' declamation, but he had to say it with\nthrilling and startling earnestness. He was to rush in on a love scene\nbubbling like a mush-pot with billing and cooing, and paralyze the\nlovers by shrieking 'Woe! Woe! unto ye all, ye children of men!'\nThrowing up his arms, after the manner of the Fourth of July orator's\njustly celebrated windmill gesture, he roared, in his thunderous\nvoice: 'Woe! Woe! unto ye--'\n\n\"That was as far as the declamation got, although the actor went\nconsiderably farther. The obedient horse, never averse to standing\nstill, suddenly and firmly planted his feet and stood--motionless as a\npainted horse upon a painted highway. Russell, obedient to the laws of\ninertia, made a parabola over the dashboard, landed on the back of the\npatient beast, ricochetted to the ground, cutting his forehead on the\nshaft as he descended, a scar whereof he carries unto this day, and\nplunged into a yielding cushion of mud at the roadside.\"\n\nHe returned home, a confused mixture of blood, mud, black eyes and\ntorn clothes. Such a condition must be explained. It could not\nbe turned aside by any off-handed joke. The jeers and jibes, the\nunsympathetic and irritating comments effectually killed any desire\nhe cherished for the life of the stage. It became a sore subject. He\ndidn't even want it mentioned in his hearing. He never again thought\nof it seriously as a life work.\n\nBut one thing these entertainments did that was of great value. They\ndeveloped and fostered a love of music and eventually led to his\ngaining the musical education which has proven of such value to him.\nHe had a voice of singular sweetness and great power. At school, at\nchurch, in the little social gatherings of the neighborhood, whenever\nthere was singing his voice led. It was almost a passion with him. At\nthe few parades and entertainments he saw in nearby towns, he watched\nthe musicians fascinated. He was consumed with a desire to learn to\nplay. Inventive as he was and having already made so many things\nuseful about the farm or in the house, it is a wonder he did not\nimmediately begin the making of some musical instrument rather than go\nwithout it. Probably he would, if an agent had not appeared for the\nEstey Organ Company. They were beginning to make the little home\norgans which have since become an ornament of nearly every country\nparlor. But they were rare in those days and the price to Martin\nConwell, almost prohibitive. Knowing Russell's love of music, the\nfather fully realized the pleasure an organ in the home would give his\nson. But the price was beyond him. He offered the man every dollar he\nfelt he could afford. But it was ten dollars below the cost of the\norgan and the agent refused it.\n\nMartin Conwell felt he must not spend more on a luxury, and the agent\nleft. Crossing the fields to seek another purchaser, he met Miranda\nConwell. She asked him if her husband had bought the organ. His answer\nwas a keen disappointment The mother's heart had sympathized with the\nboy's passion for music and knew the joy such a possession would be to\nRussell. Ever ready to sacrifice herself, she told the man she would\npay him the ten dollars, if he would wait for it, but not to let her\nhusband know. The agent returned to Martin Conwell, told him he would\naccept his offer, and in a short time a brand new organ was installed\nin the farmhouse. Miranda Conwell sewed later at nights, that was all.\nNot till she had earned the ten dollars with her needle did she tell\nher husband why the agent had, with such surprising celerity, changed\nhis mind in regard to the price.\n\nRussell's joy in the organ was unbounded, and the mother was more than\nrepaid for her extra work by his pleasure and delight. He immediately\nplunged unaided into the study of music, and he never gave up until he\nwas complete master of the organ. His was no half-hearted love. The\nwork and drudgery connected with practising never daunted him. He kept\nsteadily at it until he could roll out the familiar songs and\nhymns while the small room fairly rang with their melody. He also\nimprovised, composing both words and music, a gift that went with him\ninto the ministry and which has given the membership of Grace Baptist\nChurch, Philadelphia, many beautiful hymns and melodies.\n\nLater he learned the bass viol, violoncello and cornet, and made money\nby playing for parties and entertainments in his neighborhood. Years\nafterward, when pastor of Grace Church, and with the Sunday School\non an excursion to Cape May, he saw a cornet lying on a bench on the\npier. Seized with a longing to play again this instrument of his\nboyhood, he picked it up and began softly a familiar air. Soon lost to\nhis surroundings, he played on and on. At last remembering where he\nwas, he laid down the instrument and walked away. The owner, who had\nreturned, followed him and offered him first five dollars and then ten\nto play that night for a dance at Congress Hall.\n\nMartin Conwell, during Russell's boyhood days, carefully guarded his\nson from being spoiled by the flattery of neighbors and friends. He\nrealized that Russell was a boy in many ways above the average, but\nhis practical common sense prevented him from taking such pride in\nRussell's various achievements as to let him become spoiled and\nconceited. Many a whipping Russell received for the personal songs he\ncomposed about the neighbors. But that was not prohibitive. The very\nnext night, Russell would hold up to ridicule the peculiarity of some\none in the neighborhood, much to his victim's chagrin and to the\namusement of the listeners. He was forever inventing improvements for\nthe fishing apparatus, oars, boats, coasting sleds, household and farm\nutensils, often forgetting the tasks his father had given him while\ndoing it. Naturally, this exasperated Martin Conwell, who had no help\non the farm but the boys, and the rod would again be brought into\nactive service. Once, after whipping him for such neglect of work--he\nhad left the cider apples out in the frost--Martin Conwell asked his\nson's pardon because he had invented an improved ox-sled that was of\ngreat practical value.\n\nWhen he was fifteen he ran away again. No friendly Deacon Chipman\ninterfered this time, nor is it likely he would easily have been\nturned from the project, for he planned to go to Europe. He went to\nChicopee to an uncle's, whom he frankly told of his intended trip. The\nuncle kept Russell for a day or two by various expedients, while he\nwrote to his father telling him Russell was there and what he intended\ndoing. The father wrote back saying to give him what money he needed\nand let him go. So Russell started on his journey over the sea. He\nworked his way on a cattle steamer from New York to Liverpool. But it\nwas a homesick boy that roamed around in foreign lands, and as he has\nsaid most feelingly since, \"I felt that if I could only get back home,\nI would never, never leave it again.\" He did not stay abroad long and\nwhen he returned to his home, his father greeted him as if he had been\nabsent a few hours, and never in any way, by word or action, referred\nto the subject. In fact, so far as Martin Conwell appeared, Russell\nmight have been no farther than Huntington.\n\nThus boyhood days passed with their measure of work and their measure\nof play. He lived the healthy, active life of a farm boy, taking a\nkeen interest in the affairs of the young people of the neighborhood,\namusing the older heads by his mischievous pranks. He diligently and\nperseveringly studied in school hours and out. He read every book he\ncould get hold of. He was sometimes disobedient, often intractable, in\nno way different from thousands of other farm boys of those days or\nthese.\n\nBut the times were coming which would test his mettle. Would he\ncontinue to climb as he had done after the eagle's nest, though\ncompelled many times to go to the very ground and begin over again?\n\nWould the experiences of life transmute into pure gold, these\nundeveloped traits of character or prove them mere dross? It\nrested with him. He was the alchemist, as is every other man. The\nphilosopher's stone is in every one's hands.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nOUT OF THE HOME NEST\n\nSchool Days at Wilbraham Academy. The First School Oration and Its\nHumiliating End. The Hour of Prayer in the Conwell Home at the Time of\nJohn Brown's Execution.\n\n\nThe carefree days of boyhood rapidly drew to a close. The serious work\nof life was beginning. The bitter struggle for an education was at\nhand. And because one boy did so struggle, thousands of boys now are\nbeing given the broadest education, practically free.\n\nRussell had gone as far in his studies as the country school could\ntake him. Should he stop there as his companions were doing and settle\ndown to the work of the farm? The outlook for anything else was almost\nhopeless. He had absolutely no money, nor could his father spare him\nany. He knew no other work than farming. It was a prospect to daunt\neven the most determined, yet Russell Conwell is not the only farmer's\nboy who has looked such a situation in the face and succeeded in spite\nof it. Nor were helping hands stretched out in those days to aid\nambitious boys, as they are in these.\n\nAsa Niles, matching Russell's progress with loving interest, told\nMartin Conwell the boy ought to go to Wilbraham Academy. His own son\nWilliam was going, and he strongly urged that Charles and Russell\nConwell enter at the same time. It was no light decision for the\nfather to make. He needed the boys in the work on the farm. Not only\nwas he unable to help them, but it was a decided loss to let them go.\nLong and earnest were the consultations the father and mother held.\nThe mother, willing to sacrifice herself to the utmost, said, of\ncourse, \"let them go,\" deciding she could earn something to help them\nalong by taking in more sewing. So it was decided, and in the fall\nof 1858, Russell and his brother entered the Academy of Wilbraham, a\nsmall town about twelve miles east from Springfield.\n\nIt was bitter, uphill work. All the money the two boys had, both to\npay their tuition and their board, they earned. They worked for the\nnear-by farmers. They spent long days gathering chestnuts and walnuts\nat a few cents a quart. They split wood, they did anything they could\nfind to do. In fact, they worked as hard and as long as though no\nstudies were awaiting to be eagerly attacked when the exhausting\nlabor was finished. Such tasks interfered with their studies, so that\nRussell never stood very high in his Academy classes. Part of the time\nthey lived in a small room on the outskirts of the village, barren of\nall furniture save the absolutely necessary, and for six weeks at a\nstretch, lived on nothing but mush and milk. Their clothes were of\nthe cheapest kind, countrified in cut and make, a decided contrast\nto those of their fellow students, who came from homes of wealth and\nrefinement It is very easy for outsiders and older heads to talk\nphilosophically of being above such things, but young, sensitive boys\nfeel such a position keenly and none but those who have actually\nendured such a martyrdom of pride know what they suffer. It takes the\ngrittiest kind of perseverance to face such slights, to seem not to\nsee the amused glance, not to hear the sneering comment, not to notice\nthe contemptuous shrug.\n\nSuch slights Russell endured daily from certain of his classmates,\nand though he realized fully that the opinion of these was of little\nvalue, nevertheless they hurt. But to the world he stood his ground\nunflinchingly, even if there were secret heartaches. He studied\nhard, and what he studied he learned. He had his own peculiar way\nof studying. Once he was missing from his classes several days. The\nteachers reported it to the principal, Dr. Raymond, who investigated.\nHe found Russell completely absorbed in history and mastering it at a\nmile-a-minute gait. Dr. Raymond was wise in the management of boys,\nespecially such a boy as Russell, and he reported to the teachers,\n\"Let him alone. Conwell is working out his own education, and it isn't\nworth while to disturb him.\"\n\nHis passion for debate and oratory found full scope in the debating\nsocieties of the Academy. These welcomed him with open arms. He was\nso quick with his witty repartee, could so readily turn an opponent's\narguments against him, that the nights it was known he would speak,\nfound the \"Old Club\" hall always crowded to hear \"that boy from the\ncountry.\"\n\nThus working as hard as though he were doing nothing else, and\nstudying as hard as though he were not working, Russell made his way\nthrough two terms of the academic year. Nobody knows or ever will\nknow, all he suffered. Often almost on the point of starvation, yet\ntoo proud and sensitive to ask for help, he toiled on, working by day\nand studying by night. He never thought of giving up the fight and\ngoing back to the farm. But funds completely ran out for the spring\nterm and he yielded the struggle for a brief while, returning to help\nhis father, or to earn what he could teaching school, or working on\nneighboring farms, saving every cent like a very miser for the coming\nyear's tuition. In addition, he kept up with his studies, so that when\nhe returned the next fall, he went on with his class the same as if he\nhad attended for the entire year.\n\nThe second year was a repetition of the first, work and study,\ngrinding poverty, glorious perseverance. Again the spring term found\nhim out of funds, and this time he replenished by teaching school at\nBlandford, Massachusetts. Among his pupils here was a bully of the\nworst type, whose conduct had caused most of the former teachers to\nresign. In fact, he was quite proud of his ability to give the school\na holiday, and as on former occasions, made his boasts that it\nwouldn't be long before the new teacher would take a vacation. The\nother pupils watched with eager curiosity for the conflict. In due\ncourse of time it came. Russell at first dealt with him kindly. It\nhadn't been so many years since he himself had been the cause of\nnumerous uproars at school. But this youth was not of the kind to be\nimpressed by good treatment. He simply took it as a showing of the\nwhite feather on the part of the new teacher and became bolder in his\nmisconduct. On a day, when he was unruly beyond all pardon, Russell\ntook down the birch and invited him up before the school to receive\nthe usual punishment. The great occasion had come. The children waited\nwith bated breath. The boy refused openly, sneeringly. The next\nmoment, he thought lightning had struck him. He was grabbed by the\nneck, held with a grip of iron despite all his struggles, whipped\nbefore the gaping school, taken to the door and kicked out in the\nsnow. Then the school lessons proceeded. It made a sensation, of\ncourse. Some of the parents wanted to request the new teacher to\nresign. But others rallied to his support and protested to the school\nboard that the right man had been found at last. And so Russell held\nthe post until the school term was over. Thirty-five years after,\nRussell Conwell, pastor of the Baptist Temple, was asked to head a\npetition to get this same evil doer out of Sing Sing prison.\n\nBut despite his hard work and hard study at Wilbraham, the spirit of\nfun cropped out as persistently as in his younger days at the country\nschool. A chance to play a good joke was not to be missed. At one of\nthe school entertainments, a student whom few liked was to take part.\nRelatives of his had given a large sum of money to the Academy, and\non this account he somewhat lorded it over the other boys. He was, in\naddition, foppish in his dress, and on account of his money, position,\nand tailor, felt the country boys of the class a decided drawback to\nhis social status. So the country boys decided to \"get even,\" and they\nneeded no other leader while Russell Conwell was about. Finally it\ncame the dandy's turn to go on the platform to deliver a recitation.\nJust as he stepped out of the little anteroom before the audience,\nRussell, with deft fingers, fastened a paper jumping-jack to the tail\nof his coat, where it dangled back of his legs in plain view of the\naudience but unobserved by himself. With every gesture the figure\njumped, climbed, contorted, and went through all manner of gymnastics.\nThe more enthusiastic became the young orator, the more active the\ntiny figure in his rear. The audience went into convulsions. Utterly\nunable to tell what was the matter, he finally retired, red and\nconfused, and the audience wiped away the tears of laughter.\n\nIt was at one of these entertainments that Russell himself met with a\nbitter defeat. A public debate was announced in which he was to take\npart. His classmates had spread abroad the story of his eloquence and\nthe hall was packed to hear him. Knowing that it would be a great\noccasion and conscious of his poor clothes, he determined to make an\nimpression by his speech. He prepared it with the utmost care, and\nto \"make assurance doubly sure,\" committed it to memory, a thing he\nrarely did. His turn came. There was an expectant rustle through the\naudience, some almost audible comments on his clothes, his height, his\nthinness. He cleared his voice. He started to say the first word. It\nwas gone. Frantically he searched his memory for that speech. His mind\nwas a blank. Again he cleared his voice and wrestled fiercely with his\ninner consciousness. Only one phrase could he remember, and shouting\nin his thunderous tones, \"Give me liberty or give me death,\" sat down,\n\"not caring much which he got,\" as Burdette says, \"so it came quickly\nand plenty of it.\"\n\nIt was while at Wilbraham that he laid down text books and stepped\naside for a brief space to pay honor to a hero. Sorrow hung like a\npall over the little home at South Worthington. In far-off Virginia,\na brave, true-hearted man had raised a weak arm against the hosts of\nslavery, raised it and been stricken down. John Brown had been tried,\nconvicted and sentenced to be hanged. The day of his execution was a\nday of mourning in the Conwell home. As the hour for the deed drew\nnear, the father called the family into the little living room where\nBrown had so often sat among them. And during the hour while the\ntragedy was enacted in Virginia, the family sat silent with bowed\nheads doing reverence to the memory of this man who with single-minded\nearnestness went forward so fearlessly when others held back, to\nstrike the shackles from those in chains.\n\nIt was a solemn hour, an hour in which worldly ambitions faded before\nthe sublime spectacle of a man freely, calmly giving his very life\nbecause he had dared to live out his honest belief that all men should\nbe free. Like a kaleidoscope, Brown's history passed through Russell's\nmind as he sat there. He saw the brutal whipping of the little slave\nboy which had so aroused Brown's anger when, a small boy himself, he\nled cattle through the western forests. Russell's hands clenched as\nhe pictured it and he felt willing to fight as Brown had done,\nsingle-handed and alone if need be, to right so horrible a wrong.\nHe could see how the idea had grown with John Brown's growth and\nstrengthened with his strength until he came to manhood with a single\npurpose dominating his life, and a will to do it that could neither be\nbroken nor bent. He pictured him in Kansas when son after son was laid\non the altar of liberty as unflinchingly as Abraham held the knife at\nhis own son's breast at God's behest. Then the first \"blow at Harper's\nFerry in the cause of liberty for all men--the capture of the town\nof three thousand by twenty-two men, and now this--the public\nexecution--the fearless spirit that looked only to God for guidance,\nthat feared neither man nor man's laws, stopped on the very threshold\nof the supreme effort for which he had planned his life. Stopped? It\nwas the 2nd Massachusetts Regiment of Infantry that was the first to\nsing on its way South, that song, afterward sung by the armies of a\nnation to the steady tramp of feet,\n\n  \"John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave,\n        But his soul goes marching on.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nWAR'S ALARMS\n\nCollege Days at Yale. The Outbreak of the Civil War. Patriotic\nSpeechmaking. New York and Henry Ward Beecher.\n\n\nSchool days at Wilbraham ended, Russell determined to climb higher. As\nyet, he scarcely knew the purpose of his studying. Ambitions seethed\nin him to know, to be able to do. He only realized that he must have\nthe tools ready when the work came. Not daunted, therefore, by the\nbitter experiences at Wilbraham, Russell determined to go to Yale.\nThis meant a stern fight indeed, one that would call out all his\nreserves of determination, perseverance and indifference to the jeers\nand jibes of unthinking and unfeeling classmates. But he did not\nflinch at the prospect. His brother Charles went with him, and in\nthe fall of '60 they entered Yale College. If poverty was bitter at\nWilbraham, it was bitterer here. They were utter strangers among\nhundreds of boys from all parts of the country, the majority of them\ncoming from homes of luxury and with money for all their needs. At\nWilbraham, there had been a certain number of boys from their own\nsection, many of them poor, though few so poor as themselves. They had\nnot felt so altogether alone as they did at Yale. It is perhaps for\nthis reason that so little is known of Russell Conwell's career at\nYale. He was as unobtrusive as possible. \"Silent as the Sphinx,\" some\ndescribe him. His sensitive nature withdrew into itself, and since he\ncould not mingle with his classmates on a ground of equality, he kept\nto himself, alone, silent, studying, working, but telling no one how\nkeenly he felt the difference between his own position and that of his\nfellow students. He worked for the nearby farmers as at Wilbraham and\ndid anything that he could to earn money. But his clothes were poor,\nhis manner of living the cheapest, and except in classes, his fellow\nstudents met him little.\n\nHe took the law course and followed fully the classical course at the\nsame time--a feat no student at that time had ever done and few, if\nany, since. How he managed it, working as hard as he did at the\nsame time, to earn money, seems impossible to comprehend. His iron\nconstitution, for one thing, that seemed capable of standing any\nstrain, helped him. And his remarkable ability to photograph whole\npages of his text books on his memory was another powerful ally. He\ncould reel off page after page of Virgil, Homer, Blackstone--anything\nhe \"memorized\" in this unusual fashion. Well for him that he grasped\nthe opportunity to learn this method presented him as a child. But\nit has always been one of the traits of his character to see\nopportunities where others walk right over them, and to seize and make\nuse of them.\n\nHe did not register in the classical course as he was too poor to pay\nthe tuition fee, nor did he join any of the clubs, as he could not\nafford it. He seldom appeared in debates or the moot courts, for\nhe was so shabbily dressed he felt he would not be welcome. It was\nundoubtedly these humiliating experiences, combined with certain of\nhis studies and reading, that caused him to drift into an atheistic\ntrain of thought. Working hard, living poor, desiring so much, yet\non all sides he saw boys with all the opportunities he longed\nfor, utterly indifferent to them. He saw boys spending in riotous\ndissipation the money that would have meant so much to him. He saw\nthem recklessly squandering health, time, priceless educational\nopportunities, for the veriest froth of pleasure. He saw them sowing\nthe wind, yet to his inexperienced eyes not reaping the whirlwind, but\nfaring far more prosperously than he who worked and studied hard and\nyet had not what they threw so lightly away. It was all at variance\nwith his mother's teaching, with such of the preaching at the little\nwhite church as he had heard. Bible promises, as he interpreted them,\nwere not fulfilled. So he scoffed, cynically, bitterly, and said, as\nmany another has done before he has learned the lessons of the world's\nhard school, \"There is no God.\" And having said it, he took rather a\npride in it and said it openly, boastingly.\n\nAs at Wilbraham, funds ran out before the school year was completed\nand he left Yale and taught district school during the day and vocal\nand instrumental music in the evenings.\n\nBut into this eager, undaunted struggle for an education came the\ntrumpet call to arms. With the memory of John Brown like a living coal\nin his heart, with the pictures of the cowering, runaway slaves ever\nbefore his eyes, he flung away his books and was one of the first to\nenlist. But his father interfered. Russell was only eighteen. Martin\nConwell went to the recruiting officer and had his name taken from the\nrolls. It was a bitter disappointment. But since he might not help\nwith his hands, he spoke with his tongue. All his pent-up enthusiasm\nflowed out in impassioned speeches that brought men by the hundreds to\nthe recruiting offices. His fame spread up and down the Connecticut\nvalley and wherever troops were to be raised, \"the boy\" was in demand.\n\n\"His youthful oratory,\" says the author of \"Scaling the Eagle's Nest,\"\n\"was a wonderful thing which drew crowds of excited listeners wherever\nhe went. Towns sent for him to help raise their quotas of soldiers,\nand ranks speedily filled before his inspiring and patriotic\nspeeches. In 1862 I remember a scene at Whitman Hall in Westfield,\nMassachusetts, which none who were there can forget. Russell had\ndelivered two addresses there before. On that night there were two\naddresses before his by prominent lawyers, but there was evident\nimpatience to hear 'The boy.' When he came forward there was the most\ndeafening applause. He really seemed inspired by miraculous powers.\nEvery auditor was fascinated and held closely bound. There was for a\ntime breathless suspense, and then at some telling sentence the whole\nbuilding shook with wild applause. At its close a shower of bouquets\nfrom hundreds of ladies carpeted the stage in a moment, and men from\nall parts of the hall rushed forward to enlist.\"\n\nThe adulation and flattery showered upon him were enough to turn any\nother's head. But it made no impression upon him. Heart, mind and soul\nhe was wrapped up in the cause. He was burning with zeal to help the\noppressed and suffering. His words poured from a heart overflowing\nwith pity, love, and indignation. Never once did he think of himself,\nonly of those in bonds crying, \"Come over and help us.\"\n\nWhen Lincoln made his great address in Cooper Institute in 1860,\nRussell was there. It was a longer journey from New England to New\nYork in those days than it is now, and longer yet for a boy who had so\nlittle money, but he let no obstacle keep him away.\n\nHe utilized his visit also to hear Beecher, the man who had taken so\npowerful a hold of his childish fancy. Ever since those boyish days\nwhen his mother read Beecher's sermons to him, and standing on the big\ngray rock he had imagined himself another Beecher, he had longed to\nhear this great man. It was only this childish desire holding fast to\nhim through the year that took him now, for church-going itself had no\nattraction for him.\n\nHe sat on the steps of the gallery and heard this wonderful man preach\na sermon in which he illustrated an auctioneer selling a negro girl at\nthe block. He sat as one entranced. So did the immense audience, held\nspellbound by the scene so graphically pictured. It was the first\ninteresting sermon he had ever heard. It made a tremendous impression\non him, not only in itself, but as a vivid contrast between the\nformal, rattling-of-dry-bones sermon and the live, vital discourse\nthat takes hold of a man's mind and heart and compels him to go out\nin the world and do things for the good of his fellow men. Long it\nremained in his memory, but the greatest inspiration from it did not\ncome till later years, when suddenly it stood forth as if illumined,\nto throw a brilliant radiance on a path he had decided to tread.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nWHILE THE CONFLICT RAGED\n\nLincoln's Call for 100,000 Men. Enlistment. Captain Conwell. In Camp\nat Springfield, Mass. The Famous Gold-sheathed Sword.\n\n\nIn 1862, Lincoln sent out an earnest call for 100,000 men for the war.\nRussell was not longer to be denied, and his father permitted him to\nenlist. What silent agony, what earnest prayers for his safety went\nup from his mother's heart, only other mothers in those terrible days\nknew.\n\nHe raised a company from Worthington, Chesterfield, Huntington,\nRussell, Blandford and the neighboring towns and was unanimously\nelected captain, though only nineteen. His earnest, fiery speeches had\nalready made him famous, and when it was known he had enlisted and was\nraising a company, there was a rush to get into it, and the men as\nwith one voice, demanded that he be their captain. No one ever thought\nof canvassing against him. A committee was appointed to wait on\nGovernor Andrew to persuade him to commission Russell in spite of his\nage, and when he received the appointment, the cheers and applause of\nthe enthusiastic, the quiet satisfaction of the sedate, showed the\nplace which he had in their hearts. It is almost incomprehensible to\nthose not acquainted with the man, but those who have come in contact\nwith him, know what a hold he would soon gain over those \"Mountain\nBoys,\" as the company was called. His kindly sympathy would quickly\nmake them feel that in their captain, each had a warm personal friend.\nHis generous heart would back up that belief with a hundred and one\nlittle acts of thoughtful kindness. Over each and every one would be\nexercised a watchful care that cheered the long days, lightened heavy\nloads, lessened discomforts. It is little wonder that their devotion\nto him amounted almost to adoration. Gray-haired men followed him as\nproudly as though his years matched theirs. Indeed, to their loyalty\nwas added a fatherly feeling of guardianship over him, because of his\nyouth, that brought a new pleasure into the relationship. The company\nwas knit together with the bonds of loving comradeship as were few\nothers.\n\nThe rendezvous of the company was at Huntington, and there a banquet\nwas given before the troops departed for war. Proud day for him when\nhe marched down the familiar road from South Worthington, through the\nautumn woods with their slowly falling leaves, their shadowy forest\naisles all glorious now with the banners of autumn, past the white\nfarmhouses with their golden lilies, the faithful little brook singing\never at his side. Sad day for his mother as she watched him go, long\nlooking after him, till she could see no more for tears.\n\nFrom Huntington the company went into camp at Springfield. And now\ncame into use, those tactics and drills he had studied as a boy, and\nothers he had been secretly studying ever since the war broke out. His\nmen were astonished to find how perfectly at home he was in military\ntactics. It further added to their pride in him. They fully expected\nhim to know as little as they, but when he came to his work fully\nprepared, to their admiration of him as an orator, their love as a\nleader, was now added their confidence as an officer.\n\nCamp life at Springfield made war no longer a glorious contemplation\nbut an uncomfortable reality. The ground for a bed, a spadeful\nof earth for a pillow, sharp mountain winds, cold autumn storms,\ninsufficient food, hinted at the hardships to follow. The gold and the\nalloy in the men's characters began to shine out, and Company F soon\nrealized in practical ways, the nature of the man who led them. His\nnew uniform overcoat went to a shivering boy, his rations were divided\nwith those less fortunate, his blankets were given to a comrade in\nneed. Always it was of his men, not himself, he thought.\n\nBefore leaving camp for the seat of war, Captain Conwell was presented\nwith a sword by his Company, bearing this inscription:--\n\n\"Presented to Captain Russell H. Conwell by the soldiers of Company F,\n46th Mass. Vol. Militia, known as 'The Mountain Boys.' Vera Amicitia\nest sempiterna. (True friendship is eternal.)\" Colonel Shurtleff made\nthe speech of presentation. The passionately eloquent reply of the\nboy captain is yet remembered by those who heard it. He received the\nbeautiful, glittering weapon in silence. Slowly he drew the gleaming\nsteel from its golden sheath and solemnly held it upward as if\ndedicating it to heaven, the sunlight bathing the blade with blinding\nflashes of light. His eyes were fixed upon the steel, as if in a rapt\nvision, he swept the centuries past, the centuries to come, and saw\nwhat it stood for in the destinies of men. Breathless silence fell\nupon his waiting comrades. Thus for a few moments he stood and then he\nspoke to the sword.\n\n\"He called up the shade of the sword of that mighty warrior Joshua,\nwhich purified a polluted land with libations of blood, and made\nit fit for the heritage of God's people; the sword of David, that\nestablished the kingdom of Israel; the sword of that resistless\nconqueror, Alexander, that pierced the heart of the Orient; the Roman\nshort sword, the terrible gladius, that carved out for the Caesars\nthe sovereignty of the world; the sword of Charlemagne, writing its\nmaster's glorious deeds in mingling chapters of fable and history; the\nsword of Gustavus Adolphus, smiting the battalions of the puissant\nWallenstein with defeat and overthrow even when its master lay dead on\nthe field of Lutzen; the sword of Washington, drawn for human freedom\nand sheathed in peace, honor, and victory; then he bade the sword\nremember all it had done in shaping the destinies of men and nations;\nhow it had written on the tablets of history in letters red and lurid,\nthe drama of the ages; closing, he called upon it now, in the battle\nfor the Union, to strike hard and strike home for freedom, for\njustice, in the name of God and the Right; to fail not in the work to\nwhich it was called until every shackle in the land was broken, every\nbondman free, and every foul stain of dishonor cleaned from the flag.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nIN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT\n\nCompany F at Newberne, N.C. The Fight at Batchelor's Creek. The\nGoldsboro Expedition. The Battle of Kingston. The Gum Swamp\nExpedition.\n\n\nBreaking camp, the 46th left the beautiful, placid scenery about\nSpringfield, its silver river, its silent mountains, for Boston, where\nthey embarked for North Carolina, November 5th, 1862. They sailed out\nof Boston Harbor in the teeth of a winter gale which increased so in\nfury that the boat was compelled to put back. When they finally did\nleave, the sea was still very rough and they had a slow, stormy\npassage.\n\nIt goes without saying that many of the men were ill. The boat was\ncrowded, the accommodations insufficient, and numbers of the Mountain\nBoys had never been on the water before. To the confusion of handling\nsuch a body of men was added inexperience in such work. The members of\nCompany F would have fared badly had it not been for the forethought\nof their boy captain. It seemed as if he had passed beforehand in\nmental review, the experiences of these weeks and anticipated their\nneeds. Out of his own funds, he laid in a stock of medicines and\ndelicacies for the sick. Indeed, those who know, say that he expended\nall of his pay in sutler's stores and various things to make his men\nmore comfortable. Night and day, he was with those who suffered,\ncheering, sympathizing, nursing. He was the life of the ship. His men\nsaw that his kindness and comradeship were not of the superficial\norder, but genuine, sincere, a part of his very self and they became,\nif possible, more passionately attached to him than ever.\n\nThe placid Neuse river was a glad sight when at last they reached its\nmouth and steamed up to Newberne, North Carolina. General Burnside had\nalready captured the town and Company F began army duties in earnest\nwith garrison work in the little Southern city, with its long dull\nlines of earthworks, its white tents, its fleet of gunboats floating\nlazily on the river. The constant tramp of soldiers' feet echoed along\nthe side-walks of this erstwhile quiet, Southern town. Sentries stood\non the corners challenging passers-by, wharves creaked under the loads\nof ordnance and quartermasters' stores. Army wagons and ambulances\nwere constantly passing in the street, all strange and novel at first\nto the Mountain Boys but soon familiar. Drilling and guard duty\nfilled their days. Morning and afternoon they drilled, and the actual\npossession of the enemies' country, the warlike aspect of everything\nabout them, made drilling a far more real and important matter than it\nhad seemed at home. Captain Conwell felt his responsibility and threw\nhimself into the work with an earnestness that infected his men. They\nwould rather drill with him two hours than with any other officer a\nhalf hour. They not only caught the contagion of his enthusiasm, but\nhe changed the dull, monotonous drudgery of it, into real, fascinating\nwork by marching them into seemingly hopeless situations and then in\nsome unexpected and surprising way, extricating them. Nor did he\nspare himself any of the unpleasant phases of the work. One day, the\nColonel, while drilling the regiment, noticed that many of the men of\nCompany F marched far out of their places to avoid a mudhole in the\nroad. He marched and countermarched them over the same ground to\ncompel the men to keep their rank and file regardless of the mud.\nCaptain Conwell saw his object, and himself plunged into the mire, his\nmen followed, and were thus saved the reprimand which threatened.\n\nDuring these days, Captain Conwell kept up with the law studies\nabandoned at Yale. Every spare minute, he devoted to his books and\ncommitted to memory, one whole volume of Blackstone during the term of\nhis first enlistment Not many of the soldiers so used their hours\noff duty. But it is this turning of every minute to account that has\nenabled Dr. Conwell to accomplish so much. He has made his life count\nfor a half dozen of most person's by never wasting a moment.\n\nThe monotony of garrison duty was broken first by a small fight at\nBatchelor's Creek, seven miles above Newbern, but only four companies\nwere engaged. The Mountain Boys saw the first blood spilled at\nKingston and gained there the first glimpse of the horrors of war.\nNearly the entire marching force was sent into the interior on this\nexpedition, known as the Goldsboro expedition, the object being to cut\nthe Weldon railroad at Goldsboro, North Carolina. It was a hard march\nwith short and uncertain halts and occasional cavalry skirmishes. At\nKingston, they met the enemy in force. The Confederates were massed\nabout the bridge over the Neuse river and held it bravely till the\ncharge of the 9th New Jersey and 10th Connecticut drove them from\ntheir position and left the woods and a little open field covered with\nthe dead and dying. The 46th Massachusetts followed the retreating\narmy and had that first experience with the grim, bloody side of war\nthat always makes such a strong impression on the green soldier.\n\nThey bivouacked at Kingston and next day marched to the Weldon\nrailroad, reaching it at the bridge below Goldsboro, where the\nConfederates had massed a large body of troops to protect their lines\nof communication and supplies. This was a battle in earnest, the\nartillery was deafening, and the enemy repeatedly charged the Union\nlines. The Northern batteries were on a knoll in front, and at the\nvery moment that a long line of gray was seen approaching through this\nfield and the Massachusetts men were ordered to lie down, so that the\nshot and shell could pass over them, their boy captain walked openly\nforward to the batteries and stood there in the smoke. Careless of\nhimself, he yet realized to the full the meaning of this grim duel,\nfor when the fight was over and the Northern men cheering, he was\nsilent Captain Walkley asked why he did not cheer with the others.\n\"Too many hearts made sad to-day,\" was the significant reply that\nshowed he counted the cost to its bitter end, though he went forward\nnone the less bravely.\n\nLong, monotonous days of garrison duty followed for the men, days of\ndrilling, of idling up and down the streets of the dull Southern town.\nBut Captain Conwell used his spare minutes to advantage, and when\nno work connected with his company or the personal welfare of his\ncomrades occupied him, he was studying. Then came the order to drive\nthe Confederates from a fort they were erecting on the Newbern\nRailroad about thirty miles inland. This expedition, known as the Gum\nSwamp Expedition, was an experience that tested the mettle of the men\nand the resources of the young captain, and an experience none of the\nsurvivors ever forgot. It was a forced march, a quick charge. The\nConfederates fled leaving their fort unfinished. The Union men having\nsuccessfully completed their work, began the return to Newberne, and\nhere disaster overtook them. The Confederates hung on their rear,\nriddling their ranks with shot and shell. Suffering, maddened, with no\nway to turn and fight, for the enemy kept themselves well hidden, with\nno way of escape ahead if they remained on the road, they plunged into\nthe swamp, that swept up black and dismal to the very edge of the\nhighway. The Confederate prisoners with them, warned them of their\ndanger, but the men were not to be stayed when a deadly rain of the\nenemy's balls was thinning their ranks every minute. The swamp was one\nblack ooze with water up to their waists, a tangle of grass, reeds,\ncypress trees, bushes. Loaded down with their heavy clothing, and\ntheir army accoutrements, one after another the men sank from sheer\nexhaustion. No man could succor his brother. It was all he could do to\ndrag himself through the mire that sucked him down like some terrible,\nsilent monster of the black, slimy depths. But Captain Conwell would\nnot desert a man. He could not see his comrades left to die before his\nvery eyes, those men who came right from his own mountain town, his\nown boy friends, the ones who had enlisted under him, marched and\ndrilled with him. Rather would he perish in the swamp with them. He\nworked like a Hercules, encouraging, helping, carrying some of the\nmore exhausted. A wet, straggling remnant reached Newberne. Even then,\nwhen Captain Conwell found that two of his own company were missing,\nhe plunged back into the swamp to rescue them. Hours passed, and just\nas a relief expedition was starting to search for him, he came back,\nhis hat gone, his uniform torn into rags, but with one of the men with\nhim and the other left on a fallen tree with a path blazed to lead the\nrescuers to him. No heart could withstand such devotion as that. Young\nand old, it touched his men so deeply, they could not speak of it\nunmoved. They would gladly have died for him if need be, as one\ndid later, changing by his heroic act the whole current of Russell\nConwell's life.\n\nThis same earnest desire to save that made him plunge back into that\nswamp, regardless of self, is with him still to-day, now that his\nwhole soul is consumed with a longing to save men from moral death. He\nlets nothing stand in his way of reaching out a succoring hand. Then\nit was his comrades that he loved with such unselfish devotion. Now,\nevery man is his brother and his heart goes out with the same earnest\ndesire to help those who need help. The genuineness, the unselfishness\nof it goes straight to every man's heart. It binds men to him as in\nthe old days, and it gives them new faith in themselves. The love\nof humanity in his heart is, and always has been, a clear spring,\nunpolluted by love of self, by ambition, by any worldly thing.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE SWORD AND THE SCHOOL BOOK\n\nScouting at Bogue Sound. Capt. Conwell Wounded. The Second Enlistment.\nJealousy and Misunderstanding. Building of the First Free School for\nColored Children. Attack on Newport Barracks. Heroic Death of John\nRing.\n\n\nOnce more, garrison duty laid its dull hand on the troops, varied by\nlittle encounters that broke the monotony and furnished the material\nfor many campfire stories, but otherwise did little damage. The men\neagerly welcomed these scouting expeditions, and when an especially\ndangerous one to Bogue Sound was planned, and Company F, eager to be\nselected, Captain Conwell personally interceded with the Colonel that\nhis men might be given the task. The region into which they were sent\nwas known to be full of rebels, and as they approached the danger\nzone, Captain Conwell ordered his men to lie down, while he went\nforward to reconnoitre. Noticing a Confederate officer behind a tree,\nhe stole to the tree, and reaching as far around as he could, began\nfiring with his revolver. Not being experienced in the shooting of\nmen and believing since it must be done, \"'twere well it were done\nquickly,\" he shot all his loads in quick succession. His enemy, more\nwily, waited till the Captain's ammunition was gone and then slowly\nand with steady aim began returning the fire. But Captain Conwell's\ncomrades watching from a distance saw big peril, and disobeying\norders, rose as one man and came to his rescue. The Confederate fled\nbut not before he had left a ball in Captain Conwell's shoulder which,\nof little consequence at the time, later came near causing his death.\n\nThus the days passed away, and as the term of enlistment drew to\na close, General Foster sent for Captain Conwell and promised\nto recommend him for a colonelcy if he would enter at once upon\nrecruiting service among his men. This he willingly consented to do,\nand as may be imagined his men nearly all wanted to re-enlist under\nhim. Such a commission, however, for one so young aroused bitter\njealousy among officers of other companies, and Captain Conwell\nhearing of it, decided not to accept the appointment. He wrote the\nGovernor that he would be content with the captain's commission again\nand that he preferred not to raise contention by receiving anything\nhigher. The company returned home, but before the new re-organization\nwas effected, Captain Conwell was attacked with a serious fever. By\nthe time he recovered, the new regiment had been organized and new\nofficers put over it. Of course, his men were dissatisfied. With the\nunderstanding that such of his old comrades as wished could join it,\nhe went to work immediately recruiting another company. But nearly all\nhis old men wanted to come into it, the new men recruited would\nnot give him up, and the anomalous position arose of two companies\nclamoring for one captain. While it created much comment, it did not\nlessen the jealousy which his popularity had aroused, among men and\nofficers not intimately associated with him, so that his second\nenlistment began under a cloud of disappointment for his men, and\njealousy among outsiders, that seemed to bring misfortune in its\ntrain.\n\nHis new men, however, never failed him. His thoughtful care for them,\nhis kindness, his unselfishness won their loyalty and love as it had\ndone in Company F, and Company D, 2nd Massachusetts Volunteers were to\na man as devoted and as attached to him as ever were his old comrades\nof the first days of the war.\n\nIn this company went as Captain Conwell's personal orderly, a young\nboy, John Ring, of Westfield, Massachusetts, a lad of sixteen or\nseventeen. Entirely too young and too small to join the ranks of\nsoldiers, he had pleaded with his father so earnestly to be permitted\nto go to the war that Mr. Ring had finally consented to put him in\nCaptain Conwell's charge. The boy was a worshipper at the shrine of\nthe young Captain. He had sat thrilled and fascinated under the magic\nof the burning words which had swept men by the hundreds to enlist. It\nwas Captain Conwell's speeches that had stirred the boy and moved him\nwith such fiery ardor to go to war. No greater joy could be given him,\nsince he could not fight, than to be in his Captain's very tent to\nlook after his belongings, to minister in small ways to his comfort. A\nhero worshipper the lad was, and at an age when ideals take hold of a\npure, high-minded boy with a force that will carry him to any height\nof self-sacrifice, to any depth of suffering. He had been carefully\nreared in a Christian home and read the Bible every morning and every\nevening in their tent, a sight that so pricked the conscience\nof Captain Conwell, as he remembered his mother and her loving\ninstructions, that he forbade it. But though John Ring loved Captain\nConwell with a love which the former did not then understand, the boy\nloved duty and right better, and bravely disobeying these orders, he\nread on.\n\nThe company was stationed at Fort Macon, North Carolina, for awhile,\nand then sent to Newport Barracks. Here it was that Captain Conwell\nand his soldiers cut the logs and built the first free schoolhouse\nerected for colored children. Colonel Conwell himself taught it at\nfirst and then he engaged a woman to teach. It is still standing.\n\nMonths passed away and the men received no pay. Request after request\nCaptain Conwell sent to headquarters at Newberne, but received no\nreply. The men became discontented and unruly. Some had families at\nhome in need. All of these tales were poured into the young Captain's\nears. Ready ever to relieve trouble, impatient always to get to work\nand remedy a wrong, instead of talking about it, Captain Conwell\ndecided to ride to Newberne, find out what was the matter and have the\nmen's money forwarded at once. Leaving an efficient officer in command\nand securing a pass, which he never stopped to consider was not a\nproperly made-out permit for a leave of absence for a commanding\nofficer, he took an orderly and started. It was a twenty-mile ride\nto Newberne and meant an absence of some time. But he anticipated no\ntrouble, for the rebels had been letting the Northern troops severely\nalone for nearly a year.\n\nHe had covered barely two-thirds of the distance, when a Union man\npassed, who shouted as he hurried on, \"Your men are in a fight.\"\nConwell and his orderly turned, put their horses to the gallop and\nrode back furiously. It was too late. The country between was swarming\nwith Confederates. He ran into the enemies' pickets and barely escaped\ncapture by swimming a deep creek, shot spattering all around them. He\nmade desperate efforts to ride around the lines but failed. Then he\ntried descending the river by boat, but the enemy had captured the\nentire line of posts. Frustrated at all points, nothing was to be done\nbut retrace his steps to Newberne, where the worst of news awaited\nhim. The assault upon his fort had been sudden and in overwhelming\nforce. His men had been shot down or bayonetted, the remnant driven to\nthe woods. The whole ground was in the hands of the enemy.\n\nNor was this all. Back at that little fort had been enacted one of the\nsaddest tragedies of the war. When the Union soldiers fled, they had\nretreated across the long railroad bridge that spanned the Newport\nriver, and to prevent the enemy following, had set it on fire. Just as\nthe flames began to eat into the timbers, John Ring, the boy orderly,\nthought of his Captain's sword, that wonderful gold-sheathed sword\nwhich had been presented to Captain Conwell on the memorable day in\nSpringfield when he had so eloquently called upon it to fight in the\ncause of Justice. It had been left behind in the Captain's tent, the\nArmy Regulations requiring that he wear one less conspicuous. Even now\nit might be in the hands of some slave-owning Confederate. Maddened at\nthe thought, John King leaped on to the burning bridge, plunged\nback through the fire, through the ranks of the yelling, excited\nConfederates, reached the tent unobserved and grasped the sword of his\nidolized Captain. Again he made a rush for the flame-wrapped bridge.\nBut this time the keen eyes of the enemy discerned him.\n\n\"Look at the Yank with the sword. Wing him! Bring him down.\" And\nbullets sped after the fearless boy. But he fled on undeterred, and\nplunged into the mass of flame and smoke. The fire had gained too\ngreat headway by this time for any living thing to pass through it\nunhurt. He saw it was useless to attempt to cross as before, and\nbelting the sword about him, he dropped beneath the stringers and\ntried to make his way hand over hand. All about him fell the blazing\nbrands. The biting smoke blinded him. The very flesh was burning from\nhis arms. The enemies' bullets sung about him. But still he struggled\non. In sheer admiration of his courage, the Confederate general gave\nthe order to cease firing, and the two armies stood silent and watched\nthe plucky fight of this brave boy. Inch by inch, he gained on his\npath of fire. But he could see no longer. In torturing blackness\nhe groped on, fearful only that he might not succeed in saving the\nprecious sword, that in his blindness he might grasp a blazing timber\nand his hand be burnt from him, that death in a tongue of flame be\nswept down into his face, that the bridge might fall and the sword be\nlost. At last he heard his comrades shouting. They guided him with\ntheir cheers, \"A little farther,\" \"Keep straight on,\" \"You're all\nright now.\" And then he dropped blazing into the outstretched arms\nof his comrades, while a mighty shout went up from both sides of the\nriver, as enemy and friend paid the tribute of brave men to a brave\ndeed.\n\n[Illustration: LIEUTENANT-COLONEL CONWELL]\n\nWith swelling hearts and tear-blinded eyes, they tenderly laid the\ninsensible hero on a gun carriage and took him to the hospital. Two\ndays of quivering agony followed and then he met and bravely faced his\nlast enemy. Opening his eyes, he said clearly and distinctly, \"Give\nthe Captain his sword.\" Then his breath fluttered and the little\narmor-bearer slept the sleep of peace.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nA SOLDIER OF THE CROSS\n\nUnder Arrest for Absence Without Leave. Order of Court Reversed by\nPresident. Certificate from State Legislature of Massachusetts for\nPatriotic Services. Appointed by President Lincoln Lieutenant-Colonel\non General McPherson's Staff. Wounded at Kenesaw Mountain. Conversion.\nPublic Profession of Faith.\n\n\nThe tragic death of John Ring was the final crushing news that came to\nCaptain Conwell at Newberne. Combined with the nervous strain he had\nbeen under in trying to get back to his men, the condemnation from his\nsuperior officers for his absence, it threw him into a brain fever.\nLong days and nights he rolled and tossed, fighting over again the\nattack on the fort, making heroic efforts to rescue John Ring from his\nfiery death, urging his horse through tangled forests and dark rivers\nthat seemed never to have another shore. For weeks the fever racked\nand wasted him, and finally when feeble and weak, he was once more\nable to walk, he found himself under arrest for absence without leave\nduring a time of danger.\n\nIt had been reported to General Palmer that the defeat of the Federal\ntroops might have been avoided had the officers been on duty. An\ninvestigation was ordered and Captain Conwell was asked for his permit\nto be absent. He had simply his pass through the lines, a vastly\ndifferent thing he found from an authorized permit of absence. The\ninvestigation dragged its slow course along, as all such things,\nencumbered by red tape, do. Disgusted and humiliated by being kept a\nprisoner for months when the country needed every arm in its defense,\nby having such a mountain made of the veriest molehill built of a kind\nact and boyish inexperience, he refused to put in a defense at the\ninvestigation and let it go as it would. Setting the Court of Inquiry\nmore against him, a former Commander, General Foster, espoused his\ncause too hotly and wrote to General McPherson for an appointment for\na \"boy who is as brave as an old man.\" The Court of Inquiry, made up\nof local officers, most of them jealous of his popularity, resented\nthis outside interference and the verdict was against him. But others\nhigher in authority took up the matter and Captain Conwell was ordered\nto Washington. The President reversed the order of the Court. He\nwas appointed Lieutenant-Colonel, detailed for service on General\nMcPherson's staff and ordered West. General Butler, under whose\ncommand Captain Conwell served, afterward made a generous\nacknowledgment of the injustice of the findings and expressed in warm\nwords his admiration of Captain Conwell, and the State Legislature\nof Massachusetts gave him a certificate for faithful and patriotic\nservices in that campaign.\n\nNevertheless, it was an experience that sorely embittered his soul.\nIntentionally he had done nothing wrong, yet he had been humiliated\nand made to eat the bitter fruits of the envy and jealousy of others.\nIt saddened but did not defeat him. His heart was too big, his nature\ntoo generous. He could forgive them freely, could do them a kindness\nthe very first opportunity, but that did not take away the pain at his\nheart. One may forgive a person who burns him, even if intentionally,\nbut that does not stop the burn from smarting.\n\nSaddened, and with the futility of ambition keenly brought home\nto him, he joined General McPherson, and in the battle of Kenesaw\nMountain he received a serious wound. He had stationed a lookout\nto watch the Confederate fire while he directed the work of two\nbatteries. It was the duty of the lookout to keep Colonel Conwell and\nhis gunners posted as to whether the enemy fired shot or shell, easily\nto be told by watching the little trail of smoke that followed the\ndischarge. If a shot were sent, they paid no attention to it for it\ndid little damage, but if it were a shell it was deemed necessary to\nseek protection.\n\nColonel Conwell was leaning on the wheel of one of the cannon when\nthere was a discharge from the guns of the enemy. The lookout yelled,\n\"Shot.\" But it was a fatal shell that came careening and screaming\ntoward them, and before Conwell or his men could leap into the\nbomb-proof embankment, it struck the hub of the very wheel against\nwhich he leaned, and burst.\n\nWhen he came to himself, the stars were shining, the field was silent\nsave for the feeble moans of the wounded, the voices and footsteps\nof parties searching for the injured. He was in a quivering agony of\nsharp, burning pain, but he could neither move nor speak. At last, he\nheard the searchers coming. Nearer, nearer drew the voices, then for\na moment they paused at his side. He heard a man with a lantern say,\n\"Poor fellow! We can do nothing for him.\" Then they passed on, leaving\nhim for dead, among the dead.\n\nAll that June night he lay there, looking up at the stars that studded\nthe infinity of space. About him were dark, silent forms, rigid in the\nsleep of death. Those were solemn hours, hours when he looked death in\nthe face, and then backward over the years he had lived. Useless years\nthey seemed to him now, years filled with petty ambitions that had to\ndo solely with self. All the spiritual ideals of life, the things that\ngive lasting joy and happiness because they are of the spirit and\nnot of the flesh, he had scoffingly cast aside and rejected. He had\nnarrowed life down to self and the things of the world. He had no such\nfaith as made his mother's hard-working life happy and serene because\nit transformed its sordid care into glorious service of her Heavenly\nKing. He had no such faith as carried John Ring triumphant and\nundismayed through the gates of fiery death in performance of a loving\nservice. Suddenly a longing swept over him for this priceless faith,\nfor a personal, sure belief in the love of a Savior. One by one the\nteachings of his mother came back to him, those beautiful immortal\ntruths she had read him from that Book which is never too old to touch\nthe hearts of men with healing. Looking up at the worlds swinging\nthrough space to unknown laws, with the immensities of life, death and\ninfinity all about him, his disbelief, his atheism dropped away. Into\nhis heart came the premonitions of the peace of God, which passeth\nunderstanding. Life broadened, it took on new meaning and duty, for a\nlife into which the spirit of God has come can never again narrow down\nto the boundaries of self. He determined henceforth to live more for\nothers, less for himself; to make the world better, somebody happier\nwhenever he could; to make his life, each day of it, worthy of that\ngreat sacrifice of John Ring.\n\nHe being an officer, they came back for his body, and found a living\nman instead of the dead. He was taken to the field hospital. One arm\nwas broken in two places, his shoulder badly shattered, and because\nthere was no hope of his living, they did not at once amputate his\narm, which would have been done had he been less seriously injured.\n\nLong days he lay in the hospital with life going out all about him,\nthe moan of the suffering in his ears, thinking, thinking, of the\nmystery of life and death, as the shadows flitted and swayed through\nthe dimly lighted wards at night, the sunshine poured down during the\nday. His love of humanity burned purer. His desire to help it grew\nstronger. Long were the talks he had with the chaplain, a Baptist\npreacher, and when he recovered and left the hospital, his mind was\nfully made up. Like his father, his actions never lagged behind his\nspeech, and he made at once an open profession of the faith on which\nhe now leaned with such happy confidence.\n\nThe fearless, unselfish love of humanity, the desire to help the\noppressed that burned in the bosom of John Brown had sent the\nimpetuous boy into the war.\n\nThe fearless, unselfish act of John Ring sent Colonel Conwell out of\nthe war a God-fearing man, determined to spend his life for the good\nof humanity.\n\nProvidence uses strange instruments. Thousands in this country to-day\nhave been inspired, helped, made different men and women through\nknowing Russell Conwell. What may not some of them do to benefit\ntheir country and their generation! Yet back of him stand this old\ngray-haired man and a young, fearless boy, whose influence turned the\ncurrent of his life to brighten and bless countless thousands.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nWESTWARD\n\nResignation from Army. Admission to Bar. Marriage. Removal to\nMinnesota. Founding of Minneapolis Y.M.C.A. and of the Present\n\"Minneapolis Tribune.\" Burning of Home. Breaking Out of Wound.\nAppointed Emigration Agent to Germany by Governor of Minnesota. Joins\nSurveying Party to Palestine. Near to Death in Paris Hospital. Journey\nto New York for Operation in Bellevue Hospital. Return to Boston.\n\n\nWhen Colonel Conwell was able to leave the hospital, he was still\nunable to assume active duty in the field, and he was sent to\nNashville for further rest and treatment. Here he reported to General\nThomas and was instructed to proceed to Washington with a despatch for\nGeneral Logan. Colonel Conwell started, but the rough traveling of\nthose days opened his wounds afresh and he completely broke down\nat Harper's Ferry. Too weak longer to resist, he yielded to the\nentreaties of his friends, sent in his resignation and returned home\nfor rest and nursing. Before he fully recovered, peace was declared.\n\nFree to resume his studies, he entered the law office of Judge W.S.\nShurtleff, of Springfield, Massachusetts, his former Colonel, read law\nthere for a short time, then entered the Albany University, where he\ngraduated.\n\nShortly after passing his examination at the bar and receiving his\ndegree, he was married at Chicopee Falls, March 8, 1865, to Miss\nJennie P. Hayden, one of his pupils in the district school at West\nGranville, Massachusetts, and later one of his most proficient music\nscholars. Her brothers were in his company, and when Company F was in\ncamp at Springfield after the first enlistment, she was studying at\nWilbraham and there often saw her soldier lover. Anxious days and\nyears they were for her that followed, as they were for every other\nwoman with father, husband, brother or sweetheart in the terrible\nconflict that raged so long. But she endured them with that silent\nbravery that is ever the woman's part, that strong, steady courage\nthat can sit at home passive, patient, never knowing but that\nlife-long sorrow and heartache are already at the threshold.\n\nImmediately after their marriage, they went West and finally settled\nin Minneapolis. Colonel Conwell opened a law office, and while waiting\nfor clients acted as agent for a real estate firm in the sale of land\nwarrants. He also began to negotiate for the sale of town lots. This\nnot being enough for a man who utilized every minute, he became local\ncorrespondent for the \"St. Paul Press.\" Nor did he stop here, though\nmost men would have thought their hands by this time about full. He\ntook an active part in local politics and canvassed the settlement and\ntowns for the Republican and temperance tickets. He also was actively\ninterested in the schools, and not only advocated public schools and\nplenty of them, but was a frequent visitor to the city and district\nschools, talking to the children in that interesting, entertaining\nway that always clothes some helpful lesson in a form long to be\nremembered.\n\nTrue to the faith he had found in the little Southern hospital, he\njoined the First Baptist Church of Saint Paul. But mere joining was\nnot sufficient. He must work for the cause, and he opened a business\nmen's noon prayer-meeting in his law office at Minneapolis, rather a\nnovel undertaking in those days and in the then far West. For three\nmonths, only three men attended. But nothing daunted, he persevered.\nThat trait in his character always shone out the more brightly,\nthe darker the outlook. Those three men were helped, and that was\nsufficient reason that the prayer-meeting be continued. Eventually it\nprospered and resulted finally in a permanent organization from which\ngrew the Minneapolis Y.M.C.A.\n\nPoor though he was, and he started in the West with nothing, he made\nfriends everywhere. His speeches soon made him widely known. His\nsincerity, his unselfish desire to help others, his earnestness to aid\nin all good works brought him, as always, a host of loyal, devoted\nfollowers. A skating club of some hundred members made him their\nPresident, and his first law case in the West came to him through this\nposition.\n\nA skating carnival was to be given, and the club had engaged an\nIrishman to clear a certain part of the frozen Mississippi of snow for\nthe skating. This he failed to do at the time specified and the club\nhad it cleaned by some one else. Claiming that he would have done\nit, had they waited, the Irishman sued the club. Colonel Conwell, of\ncourse, appeared for the defense. The whole hundred members marched to\nthe court house, the scene being town talk for some days. Needless to\nsay he won his suit.\n\nHis love for newspaper work led him to start the \"Minneapolis\nChronicle\" and the \"Star of the North,\" which were afterward merged\ninto \"The Minneapolis Tribune,\" for which his clever young wife\nconducted a woman's column, in a decidedly brilliant, original manner.\nMrs. Conwell wrote from her heart as one woman to other women, and\nher articles soon attracted notice and comment for their entertaining\nstyle and their inspiring, helpful ideas.\n\nAt this time they were living in two rooms back of his office, for\nthey were making financial headway as yet but slowly. But times\nbrightened and Colonel Conwell was soon able to purchase a handsome\nhome and furnish it comfortably, taking particular pride in the\ngathering of a large law library.\n\nIt seemed now as if life were to move forward prosperously. But\ngreater work was needed from Russell Conwell than the comfortable\npractice of law. One evening while the family were from home, fire\nbroke out and the house and all they owned was destroyed. Running\nto the fire from a G.A.R. meeting, a mile and a half away, Colonel\nConwell was attacked with a hemorrhage of the lungs. It came from\nhis old army wounds and the doctor ordered him immediately from that\nclimate, and told him he must take a complete rest. Here was disaster\nindeed. Every cent they had saved was gone. And with it the strength\nto begin again the battle for a living. It was a hard, bitter blow for\na young, ambitious man, right at the start of his career; a stroke of\nfate to make any man bitter and cynical. But his was not a nature to\npermit misfortune to narrow him or make him repine. He rose above it.\nIt did not lesson his ambitions. It broadened, humanized them. It made\nhim enter with still truer sympathy into other people's misfortune.\nAnd his trust in God was so strong, his faith so unshaken, he knew\nthat in all these bitter experiences of life's school was a lesson. He\nlearned it and used it to get a broader outlook.\n\nHis friends rallied to his aid. Prominent as an editor, lawyer, leader\nof the Y.M.C.A., it was not difficult to get him an appointment from\nthe Governor, already a warm friend. He secured the position of\nemigration agent to Europe, and he turned his face Eastward. Mrs.\nConwell was left in Minneapolis, and he sailed abroad in the hope that\nthe sea trip and change of climate would heal the weakened tissue of\nhis lung and fully restore him to health. But it was a vain hope. His\nstrength would not permit him to fulfill the duty expected of him as\nemigration agent and he was compelled to resign. For several months\nhe wandered about Europe trying one place, then another in the vain\nsearch for health. He joined a surveying party and went to Palestine,\nfor even in those days that inner voice could not he altogether\nstilled that was calling him to follow in the footsteps of the Savior\nand preach and teach and heal the sick. The land where the Savior\nministered had a strong fascination for him, and he gladly seized the\nopportunity to become a member of this surveying party and walk over\nthe ground where the Savior had gone up and down doing good.\n\nBut the trip was of no benefit to his health. Instead of gaining he\nfailed. He grew weaker and weaker. The hemorrhages became more and\nmore frequent. Finally he came to Paris and lying, a stranger and\npoor, in Necker Hospital was told he could live but a few days. Face\nto face again with that grim, bitter enemy of the battlefield, what\nthoughts came crowding thick and fast--thoughts of his young wife in\nfar-away America, of father and mother, memories of the beautiful\nwoods, the singing streams of the mountain home, as the noise and\nclamor of Paris streets drifted into the long hospital ward.\n\nThen came a famous Berlin doctor to the dying American. He studied the\ncase attentively, for it was strange enough to arouse and enlist all\na doctor's keen scientific interest. When analyzed, copper had been\nfound in the hemorrhage, with no apparent reason for it, and the Paris\ndoctors were puzzling over the cause. \"Were you in the war?\" asked the\ngreat man. \"Were you shot?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Shot in the shoulder?\"\n\nThen came back to Colonel Conwell, the recollection of the duel with\nthe Confederate around a tree in the North Carolina woods and the shot\nthat had lodged in his shoulder near his neck and was never removed.\n\n\"That is the trouble,\" said the physician. \"The bullet has worked down\ninto the lung and only the most skillful operation can save you,\nand only one man can do it\"--and that man was a surgeon in Bellevue\nHospital, New York.\n\nCarefully was the sinking man taken on board a steamer. Only the most\nrugged constitution could have stood that trip in the already weakened\ncondition of his system. But those early childhood days in the\nBerkshire Hills had put iron into his blood, the tonic of sunshine and\nfresh air into his very bone and muscle. Safely he made the journey,\nthough no one knew all he suffered in those terrible days of weakness\nand pain on the lone, friendless trip across the Atlantic. Safely he\nwent through the operation. The bullet was removed, and with health\nmending, he made his way to Boston where his loving young wife awaited\nhim.\n\nBut out of these experiences, suffering, alone, friendless, poor, in\na strange city, grew after all the Samaritan Hospital of Philadelphia\nthat opens wide its doors, first and always, to the suffering sick\npoor.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nWRITING HIS WAY AROUND THE WORLD\n\nDays of Poverty in Boston. Sent to Southern Battlefields. Around the\nWorld for New York and Boston Papers. In a Gambling Den In Hong Kong,\nChina. Cholera and Shipwreck.\n\n\nAbject poverty awaited him on his return to Boston. The fire in St.\nPaul had left them but little property, while their enforced hurried\ndeparture compelled that little to be sold at a loss. This money\nwas now entirely gone, and once more he faced the world in absolute\npoverty. He rented a single room in the East district of Boston and\nfurnished it with the barest necessities. Colonel Conwell secured a\nposition on \"The Evening Traveller\" at five dollars a week, and Mrs.\nConwell cheerily took in sewing. Thus they made their first brave\nstand against the gaunt wolf at the door. Here their first child was\nborn, a daughter, Nima, now Mrs. E.G. Tuttle, of Philadelphia. These\nwere dark days for the little household. Night after night the father\ncame home to see the one he loved best in all the world, suffering\nfor the barest necessities of life, yet cheerful, buoyant, never\ncomplaining. So sensitive to the sufferings of others that he must do\nall in his power to relieve even his comrades in the war when, injured\nor ill, what mental anguish must he have endured when his dearly loved\nwife was in want and he so powerless to relieve it. She read his heart\nwith the sure sympathy of love, knew his bitter anguish of spirit, and\nsuffered the more because he suffered. But bravely she cheered him,\nencouraged him, and spent all her own spare minutes doing what she\ncould to add to the family income.\n\nThus they pluckily-worked, never repining nor complaining at fate,\nthough knowing in its bitterest sense what it is to be desperately\npoor, to suffer for adequate food and clothing. Colonel Conwell\nlearned in that hard experience what it is to want for a crust of\nbread. No man can come to Dr. Conwell to this day with a tale of\npoverty, suffering, sickness, but what the minister's eyes turn\nbackward to that one little room with its pitiful makeshifts of\nfurniture, its brave, pale wife, the wee girl baby; and his hand goes\nout to help with an earnest and heartfelt sympathy surprising to the\nrecipient.\n\nBut the tide turned ere long. Colonel Conwell's work on the paper soon\nbegan to tell. His salary was raised and raised, until comfort once\nmore with smiling face took up her abode with them. They moved into a\npretty home in Somerville. Colonel Conwell resumed his law practice\nand began, as in the West, to deal in real estate. He also continued\nhis lecturing.\n\nBusy days these were, but his life had already taught him much of the\nart of filling each minute to an exact nicety in order to get the most\nout of it. His paper sent him as a special correspondent to write up\nthe battlefields of the South, and his letters were so graphic and\nentertaining as to become a widely known and much discussed feature\nof the paper. Soldiers everywhere read them with eager delight and\nthrough them revisited the scenes of the terrible conflict in which\neach had played some part. While on this assignment, he invaded a\ngambling den in New Orleans, and interfering to save a colored man\nfrom the drunken frenzy of a bully, came near being killed himself.\nComing to the aid of a porter on a Mississippi steamboat, he again\nnarrowly escaped being shot, striking a revolver from the hand of a\nruffian just as his finger dropped on the trigger. He mixed with all\nclasses and conditions of men and saw life in its roughest,\nmost primal aspect But all these experiences helped him to that\nappreciation of human nature that has been of such, value and help to\nhim since.\n\nThese letters aroused such widespread and favorable comment that the\n\"New York Tribune\" and \"Boston Traveller\" arranged to send him on a\ntour of the world. When the offer came to him, his mind leaped the\nyears to that poorly furnished room in the little farmhouse, where he\nhad leaned on his mother's knee and listened with rapt attention while\nshe read him the letters of foreign correspondents in that very \"New\nYork Tribune.\" The letter he wrote his mother telling her of the\nappointment was full of loving gratitude for the careful way she\nhad trained his tastes in those days when he was too young and\ninexperienced to choose for himself.\n\nIt was a wrench for the young wife to let him go so far away, but she\nbravely, cheerfully made the sacrifice. She was proud of his work and\nhis ability, and she loved him too truly to stand in the way of his\nprogress.\n\nThis journey took him to Scotland, England, Sweden, Denmark, France,\nItaly, Germany, Russia, Palestine, Arabia, Egypt and Northern Africa.\nHe interviewed Emperor William I, Bismarck, Victor Emanuel, the then\nPrince of Wales, now Edward VII of England. He frequently met Henry\nM. Stanley, then correspondent for the London papers, who wrote from\nParis of Colonel Conwell, \"Send that double-sighted Yankee and he will\nsee at a glance all there is and all there ever was.\"\n\nHe also made the acquaintance of Garibaldi, whom he visited in his\nisland home and with whom he kept up a correspondence after he\nreturned. Garibaldi it was who called Colonel Conwell's attention to\nthe heroic deeds of that admirer of America, the great and patriotic\nVenetian, Daniel Manin. In the busy years that followed on this trip\nColonel Conwell spent a long time gathering materials for a biography\nof Daniel Manin, and just before it was ready for the press the\nmanuscript was destroyed by fire in the destruction of his home\nat Newton Centre, Massachusetts, in 1880. One of his most popular\nlectures, \"The Heroism of a Private Life,\" took its inception from the\nlife of this Venetian statesman.\n\nHe also gave a series of lectures at Cambridge, England, on Italian\nhistory that attracted much favorable comment.\n\nMr. Samuel T. Harris, of New York, correspondent of the \"New York\nTimes\" in 1870, in a private letter, says, \"Conwell is the funniest\nchap I ever fell in with. He sees a thousand things I never thought of\nlooking after. When his letters come back in print I find lots in them\nthat seems new to me, although I saw it all at the time. But you don't\nsee the fun in his letters to the papers. The way he adapts himself to\nall circumstances comes from long travel; but it is droll. He makes a\nsalaam to the defunct kings, a neat bow to the Sudras, and a friendly\nwink at the Howadji, in a way that puts him cheek-by-jowl with them\nin a jiffy. He beats me all out in his positive sympathy with these\nmiserable heathen. He has read so much that he knows about everything.\nThe way the officials, English, too, treat him would make you think he\nwas the son of a lord. He has a dignified condescension in his manner\nthat I can't imitate.\"\n\nPart of the time Bayard Taylor was his traveling companion, and there\ngrew up between these two kindred spirits an intimate friendship that\nlasted until Taylor's death.\n\nAll through the trip he carried books with him, and every minute not\noccupied in gathering material for his letters was passed in reading\nthe history of the scenes and the people he was among, in mastering\ntheir language. Such close application added an interesting background\nof historical information to his letters, a breadth and culture, that\nmade them decidedly more valuable and entertaining than if confined\nstrictly to what he saw and heard. It was on this journey that he\nheard the legend from which grew his famous lecture, \"Acres of\nDiamonds,\" which has been given already three thousand four hundred\nand twenty times. It gave him an almost inexhaustible fund of material\non which he has drawn for his lectures and books since.\n\nDuring his absence his second child, a son, Leon, was born. He\nreturned home for the briefest time, and then completed the tour by\nway of the West and the Pacific. He lectured through the Western\nStates and Territories, for already his fame as a lecturer was\nspreading. He visited the Sandwich Islands, Japan, China, Sumatra,\nSiam, Burmah, the Himalaya Mountains, India, returning home by way of\nEurope. His Hong Kong letter to \"The Tribune,\" exposing the iniquities\nof the labor-contract system in Chinese emigration, created quite a\nstir in political and diplomatic circles. It was while on this trip\nhe gathered the material for his first book, \"Why and How the Chinese\nEmigrate.\" It was reviewed as the best book in the market of its kind.\nThe \"New York Herald\" in writing of it said: \"There has been little\ngiven to the public which throws more timely and intelligent light\nupon the question of coolie emigration than the book written by Col.\nRussell H. Conwell, of Boston.\"\n\nThese travels were replete with thrilling adventures and strange\ncoincidents. When he left Somerville after his brief visit, for his\ntrip through the Western States, China and Japan, a broken-hearted\nmother in Charlestown, Mass., asked him to find her wandering boy,\nwhom she believed to be \"somewhere in China.\" A big request, but\nColonel Conwell, busy as he was, did not forget it. Searching for him\nin such places as he believed the boy would most likely frequent,\nColonel Conwell accidentally entered, one night in Hong Kong, a den of\ngamblers. Writing of the event, he says:\n\n\"At one table sat an American, about twenty-five years old, playing\nwith an old man. They had been betting and drinking. While the\ngray-haired man was shuffling the cards for a 'new deal' the young\nman, in a swaggering, careless way, sang, to a very pathetic tune, a\nverse of Phoebe Carey's beautiful hymn,\n\n  'One sweetly solemn thought\n    Comes to me o'er and o'er:\n  I'm nearer home to-day\n    Than e'er I've been before.'\n\nHearing the singing several gamblers looked up in surprise. The old\nman who was dealing the cards grew melancholy, stopped for a moment,\ngazed steadfastly at his partner in the game, and dashed the pack upon\nthe floor under the table. Then said he, 'Where did you learn that\ntune?' The young man pretended that he did not know he had been\nsinging. 'Well, no matter,' said the old man, I've played my last\ngame, and that's the end of it. The cards may lie there till doomsday,\nand I will never pick them up,' The old man having won money from\nthe other--about one hundred dollars--took it out of his pocket, and\nhanding it to him said: 'Here, Harry, is your money; take it and\ndo good with it; I shall with mine.' As the traveler followed them\ndownstairs, he saw them conversing by the doorway, and overheard\nenough to know that the older man was saying something about the song\nwhich the young man had sung. It had, perhaps, been learned at a\nmother's knee, or in a Sunday-school, and may have been (indeed it\nwas), the means of saving these gamblers, and of aiding others through\ntheir influence toward that nobler life which alone is worth the\nliving.\"\n\nThe old man had come from Westfield, Mass. He died in 1888, at Salem,\nOregon, having spent the last seven years of his life as a Christian\nMissionary among the sailors of the Pacific coast. He passed away\nrejoicing in the faith that took him\n\n  \"Nearer the Father's House,\n  Where many mansions be,\n  Nearer the great white throne,\n  Nearer the jasper sea.\"\n\nThe boy, Harry, utterly renounced gambling and kindred vices.\n\nWhile coming from Bombay to Aden, cholera broke out on the ship and\nit was strictly quarantined. It was a ship of grief and terror.\nPassengers daily lost loved ones. New victims were stricken every\nhour. The slow days dragged away with death unceasingly busy among\nthem. Burials were constant, and no man knew who would be the next\nvictim. But Colonel Conwell escaped contagion.\n\nOn the trip home, across the Atlantic, the steamer in a fearful gale\nwas so dismantled as to be helpless. The fires of the engine were out,\nand the boat for twenty-six days drifted at the mercy of the waves.\nNo one, not even the Captain, thought they could escape destruction.\nWater-logged and unmanageable, during a second storm it was thought to\nbe actually sinking. The Captain himself gave up hope, the women grew\nhysterical. But in the midst of it all, Colonel Conwell walked the\ndeck, and to calm the passengers sang \"Nearer my God to Thee,\"\nwith such feeling, such calm assurance in a higher power, that the\npassengers and Captain once again took courage. But strangest of all,\non this voyage, while sick, he was cared for by the very colored\nporter whose life he had saved on the Mississippi steamboat.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nBUSY DAYS IN BOSTON\n\nEditor of \"Boston Traveller.\" Free Legal Advice for the Poor.\nTemperance Work. Campaign Manager for General Nathaniel P. Banks.\nUrged for Consulship at Naples. His Work for the Widows and Orphans of\nSoldiers.\n\n\nReturning to Somerville, Mass., the long journey ended, he found the\neditorial chair of the \"Boston Traveller\" awaiting him. He plunged\ninto work with his characteristic energy. The law, journalism,\nwriting, lecturing, all claimed his attention. It is almost incredible\nhow much he crowded into a day. Five o'clock in the morning found him\nat work, and midnight struck before he laid aside pen or book. Yet\nwith all this rush of business, he did not forget those resolves he\nhad made to lend a helping hand wherever he could to those needing it.\nAnd his own bitter experiences in the hard school of poverty taught\nhim how sorely at times help is needed. He made his work for others\nas much a part of his daily life as his work for himself. It was\nan integral part of it. Watching him work, one could hardly have\ndistinguished when he was occupied with his own affairs, when with\nthose of the poor. He did not separate the two, label one \"charity\"\nand attend to it in spare moments. One was as important to him as the\nother. He kept his law office open at night for those who could not\ncome during the day and gave counsel and legal advice free to the\npoor. Often of an evening he had as many as a half hundred of these\nclients, too poor to pay for legal aid, yet sadly needing help to\nright their wrongs. So desirous was he of reaching and assisting those\nsuffering from injustice, yet without money to pay for the help they\nneeded, that he inserted the following notice in the Boston papers:\n\n\"Any deserving poor person wishing legal advice or assistance will be\ngiven the same free of charge any evening except Sunday, at No. 10\nRialto Building, Devonshire Street. None of these cases will be taken\ninto the courts for pay.\"\n\nThese cases he prepared as attentively and took into court with as\neager determination to win, as those for which he received large fees.\nOf course such a proceeding laid him open to much envious criticism.\nLawyers who had no such humanitarian view of life, no such earnest,\nsincere desire to lighten the load of poverty resting so heavily on\nthe shoulders of many, said it was unprofessional, sensational, a \"bid\nfor popularity.\" Those whom he helped knew these insinuations to be\nuntrue. His sympathy was too sincere, the assistance too gladly\ngiven. But misunderstood or not, he persevered. The wrongs of many an\nignorant working man suffering through the greed of those over him,\nwere righted. Those who robbed the poor under various guises were made\nto feel the hand of the law. And for none of these cases did he ever\ntake a cent of pay.\n\nAnother class of clients who brought him much work but no profit were\nthe widows and orphans of soldiers seeking aid to get pensions. To\nsuch he never turned a deaf ear, no matter the multitude of duties\nthat pressed. He charged no fee, even when to win the case, he was\ncompelled to go to Washington. Nor would he give it up, no matter what\nwork it entailed until the final verdict was given. His partners say\nhe never lost a pension case, nor ever made a cent by one.\n\nAn unwritten law in the office was that neither he nor his partners\nshould ever accept a case if their client were in the wrong, or\nguilty. But this very fact made wrongdoers the more anxious to secure\nhim, knowing it would create the impression at once that they were\ninnocent.\n\nA story which went the rounds of legal circles in Boston and finally\nwas published in the \"Boston Sunday Times,\" shows how he was cleverly\nfooled by a pick-pocket The man charged with the crime came to Colonel\nConwell to get him to take the case. So well did he play the part of\ninjured innocence that Colonel Conwell was completely deceived and\nthrew himself heart and soul into the work of clearing him. When the\ncase came up for trial, the lawyer and client sat near together in the\ncourt room, and Colonel Conwell made such an earnest and forceful plea\nin behalf of the innocent young man and the harm already done him by\nhaving such a charge laid at his door that it was at once agreed the\ncase should be dismissed, by the District Attorney's consent. So\nlawyer and client walked out of court together, happy and triumphant,\nto Colonel Conwell's office, where the pick-pocket paid Colonel\nConwell his fee out of the lawyer's own pocketbook which he had deftly\nabstracted during the course of the trial.\n\nThe incident caused much amusement at the time, and it was a long\nwhile before Colonel Conwell heard the last of it.\n\nInto work for temperance he went heart and soul, not only in speech\nbut in deed. Though he never drank intoxicating liquor himself, he\ncould never see a man under its baneful influence but that heart and\nhand went out to help him. Many a reeling drunkard he took to his\nSomerville home, nursed all night, and in the morning endeavored with\nall his eloquence to awaken in him a desire to live a different life.\nDeserted wives and children of drunkards came to him for aid, and many\nof the free law cases were for those wronged through the curse of\ndrink.\n\nFriend always of the workingman, he was persistently urged by their\nparty to accept a nomination for Congress. But he as persistently\nrefused. But he worked hard in politics for others. He managed one\ncampaign in which General Nathaniel P. Banks was running on an\nindependent ticket, and elected him by a large majority. His name\nwas urged by Senators Charles Sumner and Henry Wilson for the United\nStates Consulship at Naples, the lectures he had given at Cambridge,\nEngland, on Italian history having attracted so much favorable comment\nby the deep research they showed, and the keen appreciation of Italian\ncharacter. He was considered an expert in contested election cases and\nhe frequently appeared before the Legislature on behalf of cities and\ntowns on matters over which it had jurisdiction.\n\nMr. Higgins, who knew him personally, writing of these busy days in\n\"Scaling the Eagle's Nest,\" says:\n\n\"He prepared and presented many bills to Congressional Committees at\nWashington, and appeared as counsel in several Louisiana and Florida\nelection eases. His arguments before the Supreme Courts in several\nimportant patent cases were reported to the country by the Associated\nPress. He had at one time considerable influence with the President\nand Senators in political appointments, and some of the best men still\nin government office in this State (Massachusetts) and in other\nNew England States, say they owe their appointment to his active\nfriendship in visiting Washington in their behalf. But it does not\nappear that through all these years of work and political influence he\never asked for an appointment for himself.\"\n\nCatholics, Jews, Protestants and non-sectarian charities sought his\naid in legal matters, and so broad was his love for humanity that all\nfound in him a ready helper. At one time he was guardian of more than\nsixty orphan children, three in particular who were very destitute,\nwere through his intercession with a relative, left a fortune of\n$50,000. Yet despite all these activities, he found time to lecture,\nto write boots, to master five languages, using his spare minutes on\nthe train to and from his place of business for their study. In 1872\nhe made another trip abroad. Speaking of him at this time, a writer in\nthe London Times says:\n\n\"Colonel Conwell is one of the most noteworthy men of New England. He\nhas already been in all parts of the world. He is a writer of singular\nbrilliancy and power, and as a popular lecturer his success has been\nastonishing. He has made a place beside such orators as Beecher,\nPhillips and Chapin.\"\n\nThus the busy years slipped by, years that brought him close to the\ngreat throbbing heart of humanity, the sorrows and sufferings of the\npoor, the aspirations and ambitions of the rich, years in which he\nlooked with deep insight into human nature, and, illumined by his love\nfor humanify, saw that an abiding faith in God, the joy of knowing\nChrist's love was the balm needed to heal aching hearts, drive evil\nout of men's lives, wretchedness and misery from many a home. More and\nmore was he convinced that to make the world better, humanity happier,\nthe regenerating, uplifting power of the spirit of God ought to be\nbrought into the daily lives of the people, in simple sincerity,\nwithout formalism, yet as vital, as cherished, as freely recognized a\npart of their lives as the ties of family affection which bound them\ntogether.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTROUBLED DAYS\n\nDeath of Wife. Loss of Money. Preaching on Wharves. Growth of Sunday\nSchool Class at Tremont Temple from Four to Six Hundred Members in a\nBrief Time. Second Marriage. Death of Father and Mother. Preaching at\nLexington. Building Lexington Baptist Church.\n\n\nInto this whirl of successful, happy work, the comforts and luxuries\nof prosperity, came the grim hand of death. His loving wife who had\nworked so cheerfully by his side, who had braved disaster, bitter\npoverty, hardship, with a smile, died of heart trouble after a few\ndays' illness, January 11, 1872. It was like a thunderbolt from a\ncloudless sky. In the loneliness and despair that followed, worldly\nambitions turned to dust and ashes. He could not lecture. He could not\nspeak. The desolation at his heart was too great. His only consolation\nwas the faith that was in him, a \"very present help,\" as he found, \"in\ntime of trouble.\" This bitter trial brought home to him all the more\nintensely the need of such comfort for those who were comfortless. His\nheart went out in burning sympathy for those sitting in darkness like\nhimself, but who had no faith on which to lean, nothing to bring\nhealing and hope to a broken heart. Her death was a loss to the\ncommunity as well as to her family. Her writings in the \"Somerville\nJournal\" had made a decided impression, while her sweet womanly\nqualities had endeared her to a wide circle of friends. Noting her\ndeath, a writer in one of the Boston papers said:\n\n\"Mrs. Conwell was a true and loving wife and mother. Kind and\nsympathetic in her intercourse with all, and possessed of those rare\nwomanly graces and qualities which endeared her to those with whom she\nwas acquainted. Her death leaves a void which cannot be filled even\noutside her own household. Her writings were those of a true woman,\nalways healthful in their tone, strong and vigorous in ideas and\nconcise in language.\"\n\nOther troubles came thick and fast. He lost at one time fifty thousand\ndollars in the panic of '74, and at another ten thousand dollars by\nendorsing for a friend. His old acquaintance, poverty, again took up\nits abode with him. In addition, he was heavily in debt. Those were\nblack days, days that taught him how unstable were the things of this\nworld--money, position, the ambitions that once had seemed so worthy.\nThe only thing that brought a sense of satisfaction, of having done\nsomething worth while, was the endeavor to make others happier, to put\njoy into lives as desolate as his own. Such work brought peace.\n\nTo forget his own troubles in lightening those of others, he went\nactively into religious work. He took a class in the Sunday School of\nTremont Temple, that very Sunday School into which Deacon Chipman had\ntaken him a runaway boy some twenty years before. The class grew from\nfour to six hundred in a few months. He preached to sailors on the\nwharves, to idlers on the streets, in mission chapels at night. The\npresent West Somerville, Massachusetts, church grew from just such\nwork. He could not but see the fruits of his labors. On all sides it\ngrew to a quick harvest.\n\nThe thought that he was thus influencing others for good, that he\nwas leading men and women into paths of sure happiness brought him\na spiritual calm and peace such as the gratification of worldly\nambitions had never given him. More and more he became convinced it\nwas the only work worth doing. The strong love for his fellowmen, the\ndesire to help those in need and to make them happier which had always\nbeen such a pronounced characteristic, had set him more than once\nto thinking of the ministry as a life work. Indeed, ever since that\nchildish sermon, with the big gray rock as a pulpit, it had been in\nhis mind, sometimes dormant, breaking out again into strong feeling\nwhen for a moment he stood on some hilltop of life and took in its\nfullest, grandest meaning, or in the dark valley of suffering and\nsorrow held close communion with God and saw the beauty of serving Him\nby serving his fellowmen. That the inclination was with him is shown\nby the fact that when he was admitted to the bar in Albany in 1865, he\nhad a Greek Testament in his pocket.\n\nAs soon as his means permitted after the war, he gathered a valuable\ntheological library, sending to Germany for a number of the books. In\n1875, when he was admitted to practice in the Supreme Court of the\nUnited States, he delivered an address that same evening in Washington\non the \"Curriculum of the School of the Prophets in Ancient Israel.\"\nFrom all parts of the Old World he gathered photographs of ancient\nmanuscripts and sacred places, and kept up a correspondence with many\nprofessors and explorers interested in these topics. He lectured in\nschools and colleges on archaeological subjects, with illustrations\nprepared by himself.\n\nIt is not to be wondered that with his keen mind and his gift of\noratory the law tempted him at first to turn aside from the promptings\nof the inner spirit. Nor is it to be wondered that even when\ninclination led strongly he still hesitated. It was no light thing for\na man past thirty to throw aside a profession in which he had already\nmade an enviable reputation and take up a new lifework. With two small\nchildren depending upon him, it was a question for still more serious\nstudy.\n\nBut gradually circumstances shaped his course. In 1874, he married\nMiss Sarah F. Sanborn whom he had met in his mission work. She was of\na wealthy family of Newton Centre, the seat of the Newton Theological\nSeminary. One of the intimate friends of the family was the Rev. Alvah\nHovey, D.D., President of the Seminary. Thus while inclination pulled\none way and common sense pulled the other, adding as a final argument\nthat he had no opportunity to study for the ministry, he was thrown\namong the very people who made it difficult not to study theology.\nTroubled in mind he sought Dr. Hovey one day and asked how to decide\nif \"called to the ministry.\" \"If people are called to hear you,\" was\nthe quick-witted, practical reply of the good doctor. But still he\nhesitated. His law practice, writing, lecturing, claimed part of him;\nhis Sunday School work and lay preaching, a second and evergrowing\nstronger part. His law practice became more and more distasteful, his\nservice to the soul needs of others, more and more satisfying.\n\n[Illustration: MRS. SARAH F. CONWELL]\n\nIn 1874 his father died, and in 1877 he lost his mother, these sad\nbereavements still further inclining his heart to the work of the\nministry. They were buried at South Worthington, in a sunny hilltop\ncemetery, open to the sky, the voice of a little brook coming softly\nup from among the trees below. This visit to his old home under such\nsad circumstances, the memory of his father's and mother's prayers\nthat the world might not be the worse, but that it might be the better\nfor his having lived in it, deepened the growing conviction that he\nshould give his life to the work of Christ.\n\nAt last came the deciding event. In 1879, a young woman visited\nColonel Conwell, the lawyer, and asked his advice respecting the\ndisposition of a Baptist Meeting House in Lexington. He went to\nLexington and called a meeting of the members of the old church,\nfor the purpose of securing legal action on the part of that body\npreparatory to selling the property. He got some three or four old\nBaptists together and, as they talked the business over, \"they became\nreluctant to vote, either to sell, destroy, keep, or give away the\nold meeting-house,\" says Burdette, in \"Temple and Templars.\" \"While\ndiscussing the situation with these sorrowful old saints--and one good\nold deacon wept to think that 'Zion had gone into captivity,'--the\npreacher came to the front and displaced the lawyer. It was the crisis\nin his life; the parting of the ways. In a flash of light the decision\nwas made. 'It flashed upon me, sitting there as a lawyer, that there\nwas a mission for me there,' Dr. Conwell has often said, in speaking\nof his decision to go into the ministry. He advised promptly and\nstrongly against selling the property. 'Keep it; hold service in it;\nrepair the altar of the Lord that is broken down; go to work; get\nGod to work for you, and work with Him; 'God will turn again your\ncaptivity, your months shall be filled with laughter and your tongues\nwith singing.\" They listened to this enthusiastic lawyer whom they had\nretained as a legal adviser, in dumb amazement 'Is Saul also among the\nprophets?' But having given his advice, he was prompt to act upon it\nhimself. 'Where will we get a preacher?' 'Here is one who will serve\nyou until you can get one whom you will like better, and who can\ndo you more good. Announce preaching in the old meeting house next\nSunday!'\n\n\"It was nothing new for Colonel Conwell to preach, for he was engaged\nin mission work somewhere every Sunday; so when the day came, he was\nthere. Less than a score of hearers sat in the moldy old pews. The\nwindows were broken and but illy repaired by the curtaining cobwebs.\nThe hand of time and decay had torn off the ceiling plaster in\nirregular and angular patches. The old stove had rusted out at the\nback, and the crumbling stove-pipe was a menace to those who sat\nwithin range of its fall. The pulpit was what Mr. Conwell called a\n'crow's perch,' and one can imagine the platform creaking under the\nmilitary tread of the tall lawyer who stepped into its lofty height to\npreach. But, old though it was, they say, a cold, gloomy, damp, dingy\nold box, it was a meeting house and the Colonel preached in it. That a\nlawyer should practice, was a commonplace, everyday truth; but that a\nlawyer should preach--that was indeed a novelty. The congregation of\nsixteen or seventeen at the first service grew the following Sabbath,\nto forty worshippers. Another week, and when the new preacher climbed\ninto that high pulpit, he looked down upon a crowded house; the little\nold chapel was dangerously full. Indeed, before the hour for service,\nunder the thronging feet of the gathering congregation, one side of\nthe front steps--astonished, no doubt, and overwhelmed by the unwonted\ndemand upon its services--did fall down. They were encouraged to\nbuild a fire in the ancient stove that morning, but it was past\nregeneration; it smoked so viciously that all the invalids who had\ncome to the meeting were smoked out. The old stove had lived its\nday and was needed no longer. There was a fire burning in the old\nmeeting-house that the hand of man had not lighted and could not\nkindle; that all the storms of the winter could not quench. The pulpit\nand the preacher had a misty look in the eyes of the old deacons at\nthat service. And the preacher? He looked into the earnest faces\nbefore him, into the tearful, hopeful eyes, and said in his own strong\nheart, 'These people are hungry for the word of God, for the teachings\nof Christ. They need a church here; we will build a new one.'\n\n\"It was one thing to say it, another to achieve it. The church\nwas poor. Not a dollar was in the treasury, not a rich man in the\nmembership, the congregation, what there was of it, without influence\nin the community. But lack of money never yet daunted Dr. Conwell. The\nsituation had a familiar look to him. He had succeeded many a time\nwithout money when money was the supreme need, and he attacked this\nproblem with the same grim perseverance that had carried him so\nsuccessfully through many a similar ordeal.\"\n\n\"After service he spoke about building a new church to two or three of\nthe members. 'A new church?' They couldn't raise enough money to put\nwindows in the old one, they told him.\"\n\n\"'We don't want new windows, we want a new church,' was the reply.\"\n\n\"They shook their heads and went home, thinking what a pity it was\nthat such an able lawyer should be so visionary in practical church\naffairs. Part of that night Colonel Conwell spent in prayer; early\nnext morning he appeared with a pick-axe and a woodman's axe and\nmarched upon that devoted old meeting-house, as he had marched against\nHood's intrenchments before Atlanta. Strange, unwonted sounds saluted\nthe ears of the early risers and awakened the sluggards in Lexington\nthat Monday morning. Bang, Bang, Bang! Crash--Bang! Travelers over the\nRevolutionary battlefield at Lexington listened and wondered. By and\nby a man turned out of his way to ascertain the cause of the\nracket. There was a black coat and vest hanging on the fence, and\na professional-looking man in his shirt sleeves was smashing the\nmeeting-house. The rickety old steps were gone by the time this man,\nwith open eyes and wide-open month, came to stare in speechless\namazement. Gideon couldn't have demolished 'the altar of Baal and the\ngrove that was by it' with more enthusiastic energy, than did this\npreacher tumble into ruin his own meeting-house, wherein he had\npreached not twelve hours before. Other men came, looked, laughed,\nand passed by. But the builder had no time to waste on idle gossips.\nClouds of dust hovered about him, planks, boards, and timbers came\ntumbling down in heaps of ruin.\"\n\n\"Presently there came along an eminently respectable citizen, who\nseldom went to church. He stared a moment, and said, 'What in the name\nof goodness are you doing here?'\"\n\n\"'We are going to have a new meeting-house here,' was the reply, as\nthe pick-axe tore away the side of a window-frame for emphasis.\"\n\n\"The neighbor laughed, 'I guess you won't build it with that axe,' he\nsaid.\"\n\n\"'I confess I don't know just exactly how it is going to be done,'\nsaid the preacher, as he hewed away at a piece of studding, 'but in\nsome way it is going to be done.'\"\n\n\"The doubter burst into an explosion of derisive laughter and walked\naway. A few paces, and he came back; walking up to Colonel Conwell he\nseized the axe and said, 'See here, Preacher, this is not the kind of\nwork for a parson or a lawyer. If you are determined to tear this old\nbuilding down, hire some one to do it. It doesn't look right for you\nto be lifting and pulling here in this manner.'\"\n\n\"'We have no money to hire any one,' was the reply, 'and the front of\nthis structure must give way to-day, if I have to tear it down all\nalone.'\"\n\n\"'I'll tell you what I'll do,' persisted the wavering doubter; 'if you\nwill let this alone, I'll give you one hundred dollars to hire some\none.'\"\n\n\"Colonel Conwell tranquilly poked the axe through.' the few remaining\npanes yet unbroken in the nearest window and replied, 'We would like\nthe money, and I will take it to hire some one to help, but I shall\nkeep right on with the work myself.'\"\n\n\"'All right,' said the doubter; 'go ahead, if you have set your heart\nupon it. You may come up to the house for the hundred dollars any time\nto-day.'\"\n\n\"And with many a backward look the generous doubter passed on, half\nbeginning to doubt his doubts. Evidently, the Baptists of Lexington\nwere beginning to do something. It had been many a year since they had\nmade such a noise as that in the village. And it was a noise destined\nto be heard a long, long way; much farther than the doubter and a\ngreat many able scientists have supposed that sound would 'carry.'\"\n\n\"After the doubter came a good-natured man who disliked churches in\ngeneral, and therefore enjoyed the fun of seeing a preacher tug and\npuff in the heavy work of demolition, for the many-tongued rumor by\nthis time had noised it all around Lexington that the new preacher was\ntearing down the Baptist meeting-house. He looked on until he could no\nlonger keep his enjoyment to himself.\"\n\n\"'Going to pull the whole thing down, are you?' he asked.\"\n\n\"'Yes, sir,' replied the working preacher, ripping off a strip of\nsiding, 'and begin all new.'\"\n\n\"'Who is going to pay the bills?' he asked, chuckling.\"\n\n\"The preacher tucked up his sleeves and stepped back to get a good\nswing at an obstinate brace; 'I don't know,' he said, 'but the Lord\nhas money somewhere to buy and pay for all we need.'\"\n\n\"The man laughed, in intense enjoyment of the absurdity of the whole\ncrazy business.\"\n\n\"'I'll bet five dollars to one,' he said, with easy confidence of a\nman who knows his bet will not be taken up, 'that you won't get the\nmoney in this town.'\"\n\n\"Mr. Conwell brought the axe down with a crashing sweep, and the\nsplinters flew out into the air like a cloud of witnesses to the\nefficacy of the blow.\"\n\n\"'You would lose your money, then,' quietly said the preacher, 'for\nMr.---- just now came along and has given me a hundred dollars without\nsolicitation.'\"\n\n\"The man's eyes opened a trifle wider, and his next remark faded into\na long-drawn whistle of astonishment. Presently--'Did you get the\ncash?' he asked feebly.\"\n\n\"'No, but he told me to call for it to-day.'\"\n\n\"The man considered. He wasn't enjoying the situation with quite so\nmuch humor as he had been, but he was growing more interested.\"\n\n\"'Well! Is that so! I don't believe he meant it,' he added hopefully.\nThen, a man after all not disposed to go back on his own assertion, he\nsaid, 'Now I'll tell you what I'll do. If you really get that hundred\ndollars out of that man, I'll give you another hundred and pay it\nto-night,'\"\n\n\"And he was as good as his word.\"\n\n\"All that day the preacher worked alone. Now came in the training of\nthose early days on the farm, when he learned to swing an axe; when he\nbuilded up rugged strength in a stalwart frame, when his muscles were\nhardened and knotted with toil.\"\n\n\"'Passers-by called one after another, to ask what was going on. To\neach one Colonel Conwell mentioned his hope and mentioned his gifts.\nNearly every one had added something without being asked, and at six\no'clock, when Colonel Conwell laid down the pick and axe at the end of\nhis day's work, he was promised more than half the money necessary to\ntear down the old meeting-house and build a new one.\"\n\n\"But Colonel Conwell did not leave the work. With shovel, or hammer,\nor saw, or paint-brush, he worked day by day all that summer alongside\nthe workmen. He was architect, mason, carpenter, painter, and\nupholsterer, and he directed every detail, from the cellar to the\ngilded vane, and worked early and late. The money came without asking\nas fast as needed. The young people who began to flock about the\nfaith-worker undertook to purchase a large bell, and quietly had\nColonel Conwell's name cast on the exterior, but when it came to the\ndifficult task of hanging it in the tower, they were obliged to call\nColonel Conwell to come and superintend the management of ropes and\npulleys. Then the deep, rich tones of the bell rang out over the\nsurprised old town the triumph of faith.' An unordained preacher, he\nhad entered upon his first pastorate, and signalized his entrance upon\nhis ministry by building a new meeting-house, awakening a sleeping\nchurch, inspiring his congregation with his own enthusiasm and zeal.\"\n\nAt last he had found his work. With peace and deep abiding joy he\nentered it. Doubts no longer troubled him. His heart was at rest.\n\"Blessed is he who has found his work,\" writes Carlyle; \"let him ask\nno other blessedness.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nHIS ENTRY INTO THE MINISTRY\n\nOrdination. First Charge at Lexington. Call to Grace Baptist Church,\nPhiladelphia.\n\n\nFor this work he had been trained in the world's bitter school of\nexperience. He had learned lessons there of infinitely more value in\nhelping humanity than any the theological seminary could teach him. He\nknew what it was to be poor, to be utterly cast down and discouraged,\nto be sick and suffering, to sit in the blackness of despair for the\nloss of loved ones. From almost every human experience he could reach\nthe hand of sympathy and say, \"I know. I have suffered.\" Such help\ntouches the heart of humanity as none other can. And when at the same\ntime, it points the way to the Great Comforter and says again, \"I\nknow, I found peace,\" it is more powerful than the most eloquent\nsermon. Nothing goes so convincingly to a man's heart as loving,\nsympathetic guidance from one who has been through the same bitter\ntrial.\n\nHe was ordained in the year 1879, the council of churches, called for\nhis ordination, met in Lexington, President Alvah Hovey of Newton\nSeminary presiding. Among the members of the council was his life-long\nfriend, George W. Chipman, of Boston, the same good deacon who had\ntaken him a runaway boy into the Sunday School of Tremont Temple.\nThe only objection to the ordination was made by one of the pastors\npresent, who said, \"Good lawyers are too scarce to be spoiled by\nmaking ministers of them.\"\n\nThe ordination over, the large law offices in Boston were closed. He\ngave his undivided time and attention to his work in Lexington. The\nlawyer, speaker and writer ceased to exist, but the pastor was found\nwherever the poor needed help, the sick and suffering needed cheer,\nthe mourning needed comfort, wherever he could by word or act preach\nthe gospel of the Christ he served.\n\nHis whole thought was concentrated in the purpose to do good. No one\nwho knew him intimately could doubt his entire renunciation of worldly\nambitions, the sacrifice was so great, yet so unhesitatingly made.\nBuried from the world in one way, he yet lived in it in a better way.\nLarge numbers of his former legal, political and social associates\ncalled his action fanaticism. Wendell Phillips, meeting Colonel\nConwell and several friends on the way to church, one Sunday morning,\nremarked that \"Olympus has gone to Delphi, and Jove has descended to\nbe an interpreter of oracles.\"\n\nHis salary at the start was six hundred dollars a year, little more\nthan ten dollars a week. But it was enough to live on in a little New\nEngland village and what more did he need? The contrast between it\nand the ten thousand dollars a year he had made from his law practice\nalone, never troubled him.\n\n[Illustration: THE BAPTIST TEMPLE]\n\nThe church was crowded from the first and the membership grew rapidly.\nHis influence quickly spread to other than church circles. The town\nitself soon felt the effect of his progressive, energetic spirit. It\nawoke to new life. Other suburban villages were striding forward into\ncities and leaving this old Battlefield of the Revolution sleeping\nunder its majestic elms. Mr. Conwell sounded the trumpet. Progress,\nenterprise, life followed his eloquent encouragement. Strangers\nwere welcomed to the town. Its unusual beauty became a topic of\nconversation. The railroad managers heard of its attractiveness and\nopened its gates with better accommodations for travelers.\n\nThe governor of the state (Hon. John D. Long) visited the place on Mr.\nConwell's invitation, and large business enterprises were started and\nstrongly supported by the townspeople. From the date of Mr. Conwell's\nsettlement as pastor, the town took on a new lease of life. He showed\nthem what could be done and encouraged them to do it.\n\nOne of the town officers writing of that time, says: \"Lexington can\nnever forget the benefit Mr. Conwell conferred during his stay in the\ncommunity.\"\n\nThen all unknown to Mr. Conwell, a man came up to Lexington one Sunday\nin 1882, from Philadelphia, and heard him preach in the little stone\nchurch under the stately New England elms. It was Deacon Alexander\nReed of the Grace Baptist Church of Philadelphia, and as a result of\nhis visit, Mr. Conwell received a call from this church to be its\npastor. It was like the call from Macedonia to \"come over and help\nus.\" For the church was heavily in debt, and one of the arguments\nDeacon Reed used in urging Mr. Conwell to accept was that he \"could\nsave the church.\" He could have used no better argument. It was the\ncall to touch Mr. Conwell's heart. A small church, and struggling\nagainst poverty; a people eager to work, but needing a leader. No\nmessage could have more surely touched that heart eager to help\nothers, to bring brightness, joy and higher aspirations into troubled\nlives. It was a wrench to leave Lexington, the church and the people\nwho had grown so dear to him. But the harvest called. There was need\nof reapers and he must go.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nGOING TO PHILADELPHIA\n\nThe Early History of Grace Baptist Church. The Beginning of the Sunday\nBreakfast Association. Impressions of a Sunday Service.\n\n\nThe church to which Mr. Conwell came and from which has grown the\nlargest Baptist church in the country, and which was the first\ninstitutional church in America, had its beginning in a tent. In 1870\na little mission was started in a hall at Twelfth and Montgomery\nAvenue by members of the Young Men's Association of the Tenth Baptist\nChurch. The committee in charge was Alexander Reed, Henry C. Singley,\nFred B. Gruel and John Stoddart. A Sunday School was started and\nreligious services held Thursday evenings and Sunday afternoons. The\nlittle mission flourished, and within a year it was deemed advisable\nto put some one in charge who could give it his full time. The Rev.\nL.B. Hartman was called and the work went forward with increasing\nprosperity. He visited the families in the neighborhood, interested\nthe children in the Sunday School, held two preaching services every\nSunday and usually two prayer meetings during the week. In 1872,\nevangelistic services were held which resulted in a number of\nconversions. The need now became so imperative for a recognized\nchurch, that on Feb. 12, 1872, one was formally organized with\nforty-seven members, L.B. Hartman pastor, and John A. Stoddart, Henry\nO. Singley and G.G. Mayhew, deacons. The membership still increased\nrapidly, the little hall was crowded to discomfort, and it was decided\nto take a definite step toward securing a church building of their\nown. A lot was purchased at Berks and Mervine for $7,500, a tent with\na seating capacity of 500 erected, and Grace Baptist Church had its\nfirst home. The opening services of the tent were memorable for many\nthings.\n\nAfter addresses had been made by Drs. Malcolm, Peddie, Rowland and\nWayland, an effort was made to raise the twelve hundred dollars due on\nthe tent. A wealthy layman, Mr. William Bucknell, offered to pay the\ntwelve hundred dollars provided the members of Grace Baptist Church\nshould henceforth abstain from the use of tobacco. The alert chairman\nsaid, \"All who are in sympathy with Brother Bucknell's proposition,\nplease rise.\" The entire audience arose. Mr. Bucknell made out his\ncheck next morning for twelve hundred dollars.\n\nIn 1874, the tent was moved to a neighboring lot, where it was used as\na mission. Homeless wanderers were taken in, fed and pointed the\nway to a different and better life. From this work grew the Sunday\nBreakfast Association of Philadelphia.\n\nA contract was made for a new church building, and in 1875 Grace\nChurch moved into the basement of the new building at Berks and\nMervine Streets. But dark days came. The financial burden became\nexcessive. Judgment bonds were entered against the building, the\nsheriff was compelled to perform his unpleasant duty, and the property\nwas advertised for sale. A council of Baptist churches was called to\ndetermine what should be done.\n\nThe sheriff was persuaded to wait. The members renewed their exertions\nand once more the church got on its financial feet sufficiently to\nmeet current financial expenses. The plucky fight knit them together\nin strong bonds of good fellowship. It strengthened their faith, gave\nthem courage to go forward, and taught them the joy of working in\nsuch a cause. And while they were struggling with poverty and looking\ndisaster often in the face, up in Massachusetts, the man who was to\nlead this chosen people into a new land of usefulness, was himself\nfighting that battle as to whether he should hearken to the voice of\nthe Spirit that was calling him to a new work. But finally he left all\nto follow Him, and when this church, going down under its flood of\ndebt, sent out a cry for help, he heard it and came. To his friends in\nMassachusetts it seemed as if he were again throwing himself away. To\nleave his church in Lexington on the threshold of prosperity, for a\ncharge little more than a mission, with only twenty-seven present to\nvote on calling him, seemed the height of folly. But he considered\nnone of these things. He thought only of their need.\n\nOn Thanksgiving Day, 1882, he came. The outer walls of the small\nchurch were up, the roof on, but the upper part was unfinished,\nthe worshippers meeting in the basement And over it hung a debt of\n$15,000. But the plucky band of workers, full of the spirit that\nmakes all things possible, had found a leader. Both had fought bitter\nfights, had endured hardships and privations, had often nothing but\nfaith to lean on, and pastor and people went forward to the great work\nawaiting them.\n\nOut of his love of God, his great love of humanity, his desire to\nuplift, to make men better and happier, out from his own varied\nexperiences that had touched the deeps of sorrow and seen life over\nall the globe, came words that gripped men's hearts, came sermons that\npacked the church to the doors.\n\nIt was not many months before his preaching began to bear fruits. Not\nonly was the neighborhood stirred, but people from all parts of the\ncity thronged to hear him.\n\nIn less than a year, though the seating capacity of the church was\nincreased to twelve hundred, crowds stood all through the service. It\nbecame necessary to admit the members by tickets at the rear, it being\nalmost impossible for them to get through the throngs of strangers at\nthe front. Upon request, these cards of admission were sent to those\nwishing them, a proceeding that led to much misunderstanding among\nthose who did not know their purpose nor the reason for their use. But\nit was the only way that strangers in the city or those wishing to\nattend a special service could be sure of ever getting into the\nchurch.\n\nA Methodist minister of Albany gives a description in \"Scaling the\nEagle's Nest,\" of his attendance at a service that pictures most\ngraphically the situation:\n\n\"I arrived at the church a full hour before the evening service. There\nwas a big crowd at the front door. There was another crowd at the side\nentrance. I did not know how to get a ticket, for I did not know, till\nI heard it in the jam, that I must have one. Two young people, who\nlike many got tired of waiting, gave me their tickets, and I pushed\nahead. I was determined to see how the thing was done. I was\ndreadfully squeezed, but I got in at the back entrance and stood in\nthe rear of the pretty church. All the camp chairs were already taken.\nAlso all extra seats. The church was rather fancifully frescoed. But\nit is an architectural gem. It is half amphitheatrical in style. It is\nlonger than it is wide, and the choir gallery and organ are over the\npreacher's head. It looks underneath like an old-fashioned sounding\nboard. But it is neat and pretty. The carpet and cushions are bright\nred. The windows are full of mottoes and designs. But in the evening\nunder the brilliant lights the figures could not be made out.\n\n\"There was an unusual spirit of homeness about the place, such as I\nnever felt in a church before. I was not alone in feeling it. The\nmoment I stood in the audience room, an agreeable sense of rest and\npleasure came over me. Everyone else appeared to feel the same. There\nwas none of the stiff restraint most churches have. All moved about\nand greeted each other with an ease that was pleasant indeed. I saw\nsome people abusing the liberty of the place by whispering, even\nduring the sermon. They may have been strangers. They evidently\nbelonged to the lower classes. But it was a curiosity to notice\nthe liberty every one took at pauses in the service, and the close\nattention there was when the reading or speaking began.\n\n\"All the people sang. I think the great preacher has a strong liking\nfor the old hymns. Of course I noticed his selection of Wesley's\nfavorite. A little boy in front of me stood upon the pew when the\ncongregation rose. He piped out in song with all his power. It was\nlike a spring canary. It was difficult to tell whether the strong\nvoice of the preacher, or the chorus choir, led most in the singing. A\nwell-dressed lady near me said 'Good evening,' most cheerfully, as a\npolite usher showed me into the pew. They say that all the members do\nthat. It made me feel welcome. She also gave me a hymn-book. I saw\nothers being greeted the same. How it did help me praise the Lord! At\nhome with the people of God! That is just how I felt. I was greatly\ndisappointed in the preacher. Agreeably so, after all. I expected to\nsee an old man. He did not look over thirty-five. He was awkwardly\ntall. I had expected some eccentric and sensational affair. I do not\nknow just what, but I had been told of many strange things. I think\nnow it was envious misrepresentation. The whole service was as simple\nas simple can be. And it was surely as sincere as it was simple. The\nreading of the hymns was so natural and distinct that they had a\nnow meaning to me. The prayer was very short, and offered in homely\nlanguage. In it he paused a moment for silent prayer, and every one\nseemed to hold his breath in the deepest, real reverence. It was so\ndifferent from my expectations. Then the collection. It was not an\nasking for money at all. The preacher put his notice of it the other\nway about He said, 'The people who wish to worship God by giving their\noffering into the trust of the church could place it in the baskets\nwhich would be passed to any who wanted to give.' The basket that went\ndown to the altar by me was full of money and envelopes. Yet no one\nwas asked to give anything. It was all voluntary, and really an\noffering to the Lord. I had never seen such a way of doing things in\nchurch collections. I do not know as the minister or church require it\nso. The church, was packed in every corner, and people stood in the\naisles. The pulpit platform was crowded so that the preacher had\nnothing more than standing room. Some people sat on the floor, and a\ncrowd of interested boys leaned against the pulpit platform. When the\npreacher arose to speak, I expected something strange. It did not seem\npossible that such a crowd could gather year after year to listen to\nmere plain preaching. For these are degenerate days. The minister\nbegan so familiarly and easily in introducing his text that he was\nhalf through his sermon before I began to realize that he was actually\nin his sermon. It was the plainest thing possible. I had often heard\nof his eloquence and poetic imagination. But there was little of\neither, if we think of the old ideas. There was close continuous\nattention. He was surely in earnest, but not a sign of oratorical\ndisplay. There were exciting gestures at times, and lofty periods.\nBut it was all so natural. At one point the whole audience burst into\nlaughter at a comic turn in an illustration, but the preacher went on\nunconscious of it. It detracted nothing from the solemn theme. It was\nwhat the 'Chautauqua Herald' last year called a 'Conwellian evening.'\nIt was unlike anything I ever saw or heard. Yet it was good to be\nthere. The sermon was crowded with illustrations, and was evidently\nunstudied. They say he never takes time from his many cares to write a\nsermon. That one was surely spontaneous. But it inspired the audience\nto better lives and a higher faith. When he suddenly stopped and\nquickly seized a hymn-book, the audience drew a long sigh. At once\npeople moved about again and looked at each other and smiled. The\nwhole congregation were at one with the preacher. There was a low hum\nof whispering voices. But all was attention again when the hymn was\nread. Then the glorious song. One of the finest organists in the\ncountry, a blind gentleman by the name of Wood, was the power behind\nthe throne. The organ did praise God. Every one was carried on in a\nflood of praise. It was rich. The benediction was a continuation of\nthe sermon and a closing prayer, all in a single sentence. I have\nnever heard one so unique. It fastened the evening's lesson. It was\nnot formal. The benediction was a blessing indeed. It broke every rule\nof church form. It was a charming close, however. No one else but\nConwell could do it. Probably no one will try. Instantly at the close\nof the service, all the people turned to each other and shook hands.\nThey entered into familiar conversation. Many spoke to me and invited\nme to come again. There was no restraint. All was homelike and happy.\nIt was blessed to be there.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nFIRST DAYS AT GRACE BAPTIST CHURCH\n\nEarly plans for Church Efficiency. Practical Methods for Church Work.\nThe Growing Membership. Need of a New Building.\n\n\nThe preaching filled the church. Men and women felt that to miss a\nsermon was to miss inspiration and strength for the coming week's\nwork, a broader outlook on life, a deeper hold on spiritual truths.\nBut it was more than the sermons that carried the church work forward\nby leaps and bounds, added hundreds to its membership, made it a power\nfor good in the neighborhood that gradually began to be felt all over\nthe city.\n\nThe spirit of the sermons took practical form. Mr. Conwell followed no\ntraditions or conventions in his church work. He studied the needs of\nthe neighborhood and the hour. Then he went to work with practical,\ncommon sense to meet them. First he determined the church should be\na home, a church home, but nevertheless a home in its true sense,\noverflowing with love, with kindness, with hospitality for the\nstranger within its gates. Committees were formed to make strangers\nwelcome, to greet them cordially, find them a seat if possible, see\nthat they had hymn books, and invite them heartily to come again. And\nevery member felt he belonged to this committee even if not actually\nappointed on it, and made the stranger who might sit near him feel\nthat he was a welcome guest. When the church became more crowded,\nmembers gave up their seats to strangers and sat on the pulpit, and it\nwas no unusual sight in the church at Berks and Mervine streets to see\nthe pulpit, as well as every other inch of space in the auditorium,\ncrowded. Finally, when even this did not give room enough to\naccommodate all who thronged its doors, members took turns in staying\naway from certain services. No one who has not enjoyed the spiritual\nuplift, the good fellowship of a Grace Church service can appreciate\nwhat a genuine personal sacrifice that was.\n\nAfter the service, Mr. Conwell stationed himself at the door and shook\nhands with all as they left, adding some little remark to show his\npersonal interest in their welfare if they were members, or a cordial\ninvitation to come again, if a stranger. The remembrance of that\nhearty handclasp, that frank, friendly interest, lingered and stamped\nwith a personal flavor upon the hearer's heart, the truths of\nChristianity that had been preached in such simple, clear, yet\nforcible fashion from the pulpit.\n\nAnother of Mr. Conwell's methods for carrying out practical\nChristianity was to set every body at work. Every single member of the\nchurch was given something to do. As soon as a person was received\ninto the membership, he was invited to join some one or other of the\nchurch organizations. He was placed on some committee. In such\nan atmosphere of activity there was no one who did not catch the\nenthusiasm and feel that being a Christian meant much more than\nattending church on Sundays, putting contributions in the box, and\nlistening to the minister preach. It was a veritable hive of applied\nChristianity, and many a man who hitherto thought he had done his full\nduty by attending church regularly and contributing to its support had\nthese ideas, so comfortable and self-satisfied, completely shattered.\n\nThe membership was composed almost entirely of working people, men and\nwomen who toiled hard for their daily bread. There were no wealthy\npeople to help the work by contributions of thousands of dollars. The\nbeginnings of all the undertakings were small and unpretentious. But\nnothing was undertaken until the need of it was felt; then the people\nas a whole put their shoulders to the wheel and it went with a will.\nAnd because it practically filled a need, it was a success.\n\nThe pastor was the most untiring worker of all. With ceaseless energy\nand unfailing tact, he was the head and heart of every undertaking.\nDay and night he ministered to the needs of his membership and the\ncommunity. To the bedside of the sick he carried cheer that was better\nthan medicine. In the homes where death had entered, he brought the\ncomfort of the Holy Spirit. Where disgrace had fallen like a pall, he\nwent with words of hope and practical advice. Parents sought him to\nhelp lead erring children back from a life of wretchedness and evil.\nWherever sorrow and trouble was in the heart or home he went, his\nheart full of sympathy, his hands eager to help.\n\nMuch of his time, too, in those early days of his ministry was devoted\nto pastoral calls, not the formal ministerial call where the children\ntiptoe in, awed and silent, because the \"minister is there.\" Children\nhailed his coming with delight, the family greeted him as an old, old\nfriend before whom all ceremony and convention were swept away. He was\ngenuinely interested in their family affairs. He entered into their\nplans and ambitions, and he never forgot any of their personal history\nthey might tell him, so that each felt, and truly, that in his pastor\nhe had a warm and interested friend.\n\nHis own simple, informal manner made every one feel instantly at home\nwith him. He soon became a familiar figure upon the streets in the\nneighborhood of his church, for morning, noon and night he was about\nhis work, cherry, earnest, always the light of his high calling\nshining from his face. The people for squares about knew that here was\na man, skilled and practical in the affairs of the world, to whom they\ncould go for advice, for help, for consolation, sure that they would\nhave his ready sympathy and the best his big heart and generous hands\ncould give.\n\nSuch faithful work of the pastor, such earnest, active work of the\npeople could not but tell. The family feeling which is the ideal of\nchurch fellowship was so strong and warm that it attracted and drew\npeople as with magnetic power. The church became more and more\ncrowded. In less than a year it was impossible to seat those who\nthronged to the Sunday services, though the auditorium then had a\nseating capacity of twelve hundred.\n\n\"I am glad,\" the pastor once remarked to a friend, \"when I get up\nSunday morning and can look out of the window and see it snowing,\nsleeting, and raining, and hear the wind shriek and howl. 'There,' I\nsay, 'I won't have to preach this morning, looking all the while at\npeople patiently standing through the service, wherever there is a\nfoot of standing room.'\"\n\n[Illustration: THE SAMARITAN HOSPITAL OF THE FUTURE]\n\nThe membership rose from two hundred to more than five hundred within\ntwo years. A question began to shape itself in the minds of pastor\nand people. \"What shall we do?\" As a partial solution of it, the\nproposition was made to divide into three churches. But, as in the old\ndays of enlistment when two companies clamored for him for captain,\nall three sections wanted him as pastor, and so the idea was\nabandoned.\n\nStill the membership grew, and the need for larger quarters faced them\nimperatively and not to be evaded. The house next door was purchased\nwhich gave increased space for the work of the Sunday School and the\nvarious associations. But it was a mere drop in the bucket. Every room\nin it was filled to overflowing with eager workers before the ink was\nfairly dry on the deed of transfer.\n\nThen into this busy crowd wondering what should be done came a little\nchild, and with one simple act cleared the mist from their eyes and\npointed the way for them to go.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nHATTIE WIATT'S LEGACY\n\nHow a Little Child Started the Building Fund for the Great Baptist\nTemple.\n\n\nOne Sunday afternoon a little child, Hattie Wiatt, six years old,\ncame to the church building at Berks and Mervine to attend the Sunday\nSchool. She was a very little girl and it was a very large Sunday\nSchool, but big as it was there was not room to squeeze her in. Other\nlittle girls had been turned away that day, and still others, Sundays\nbefore. But it was a bitter disappointment to this small child; the\nlittle lips trembled, the big tears rolled down her cheeks and the\nsobs that came were from the heart. The pastor himself told the little\none why she could not come in and tried to comfort her. His heart was\nbig enough for her and her trouble if the church was not. He watched\nthe childish figure going so sadly up the street with a heart that was\nheavy that he must turn away a little child from the house of God,\nfrom the house raised in the name of One who said, \"Suffer little\nchildren to come unto me.\"\n\nShe did not forget her disappointment as many a child would. It had\nbeen too grievous. It hurt too deeply to think that she could not go\nto that Sunday School, and that other little girls who wanted to go\nmust stay away. With quivering lip she told her mother there wasn't\nroom for her. With a sad little heart she spent the afternoon thinking\nabout it, and when bedtime came and she said her prayers, she prayed\nwith a child's beautiful faith that they would find room for her so\nthat she might go and learn more about Jesus. Perhaps she had heard\nsome word dropped about faith and works. Perhaps the childish mind\nthought it out for herself. But she arose the next morning with a\nstrong purpose in her childish soul, a purpose so big in faith, so\nfirm in determination, it could put many a strong man's efforts to\nthe blush. \"I will save my money,\" she said to herself, \"and build a\nbigger Sunday School. Then we can all go.\"\n\nFrom her childish treasures she hunted out a little red pocketbook\nand in this she put her pennies, one at a time. What temptations that\nchildish soul struggled with no one may know! How she shut her eyes\nand steeled her heart to playthings her friends bought, to the\nallurements of the candy shop window! But nothing turned her from\nher purpose. Penny by penny the little hoard grew. Day after day the\ndimpled fingers counted it and the bright eyes grew brighter as the\nsum mounted. That mite cast in by the widow was no purer, greater\noffering than these pennies so lovingly and heroically saved by this\nlittle child.\n\nBut there were only a few weeks of this planning, hoping, saving. The\nlittle Temple builder fell ill. It was a brief illness and then the\ngrim Reaper knocked at the door of the Wiatt home and the loving,\nself-sacrificing spirit was born to the Father's House where there are\nmany mansions, where there was no lack of room, for the little heart\nso eager to learn more of Jesus.\n\nWith her dying breath she told her mother of her treasure, told her it\nwas for Grace Baptist Church to build.\n\nIn the little red pocketbook was just fifty-seven cents. That was her\nlegacy. With swelling heart, the pastor reverently took it; with misty\neyes and broken voice he told his people of the little one's gift.\n\n\"And when they heard how God had blessed them with so great an\ninheritance, there was silence in the room; the silence of tears and\nearnest consecration. The corner stone of the Temple was laid.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nBUILDING THE TEMPLE\n\nHow the Money was Raised. Walking Clubs. Jug Breaking. The Purchase of\nthe Lot. Laying the Corner Stone.\n\n\nThus was their path pointed out to them and they walked steadily\nforward in it from that day.\n\nPlans were made for raising money. The work went forward with a vim,\nfor ever before each worker was the thought of that tiny girl, the\nprecious pennies saved one by one by childish self-denial. The child's\nfaith was equaled by theirs. It was a case of \"Come unto me on the\nwater.\" They were poor. Nobody could give much. But nobody hesitated.\n\nIt was not only a question of giving, even small sums. What was given\nmust be saved in some way. Few could give outright and not feel it.\nIncomes for the most part just covered living expenses, and expenses\nmust be cut down, if incomes were to be stretched to build a church.\nSo these practical people put their wits to work to see how money\ncould be saved. Walking clubs were organized, not for vigorous cross\ncountry tramps in a search for pleasure and health, but with an\nearnest determination to save carfare for the building fund. Tired men\nwith muscles aching from a hard day's work, women weary with a long\nday behind the counter or typewriter, cheerfully trudged home and\nsaved the nickels. Women economized in dress, men who smoked gave it\nup. Vacations in the summer were dropped. Even the boys and girls\nsaved their pennies as little Hattie Wiatt had done, and the money\npoured into the treasury in astonishing amounts, considering how small\nwas each individual gift. All these sacrifices helped to endear the\nplace to those who wove their hopes and prayers about it.\n\nA fair was given in a large hall in the centre of the city which\nbrought to the notice of many strangers the vigorous work the church\nwas doing and netted nearly five thousand dollars toward the building\nfund. It was a fair that went with a vim, planned on business lines,\nconducted in a practical, sensible fashion.\n\nAnother effort that brought splendid results was the giving out of\nlittle earthen jugs in the early summer to be brought to the harvest\nhome in September with their garnerings. It was a joyous evening when\nthe jugs were brought in. A supper was given, and while the church\nmembers enjoyed themselves at the tables, the committee sat on the\nplatform, broke the jugs, counted the money and announced the amount.\nThe sum total brought joyous smiles to the treasurer's face.\n\nInnumerable entertainments were held in the church and at homes of\nthe church members. Suppers were given in Fairmount Park during the\nsummer. Every worthy plan for raising money that clever brains could\ndevise and willing hands accomplish was used to swell the building\nfund.\n\nThus the work went ahead, and in September, 1886, the lot on which\nThe Temple now stands at Broad and Berks was purchased at a cost of\ntwenty-five thousand dollars. Thus encouraged with tangible results,\nthe work for the building fund was pushed, if possible, with even\ngreater vigor. Ground was broken for The Temple March 27, 1889. The\ncorner stone was laid July 13, 1890, and on the first of March, 1891,\nthe house was occupied for worship.\n\nThe only large amount received toward the building fund was a gift of\nten thousand dollars on condition that the church be not dedicated\nuntil it was free of debt. In a legal sense, calling a building by the\nname of the congregation worshipping in it is a dedication, and so the\nbuilding, instead of being called The Grace Baptist Church, was called\nthe Baptist Temple, a name which will probably cling to it while one\nstone stands upon another.\n\nRaising money and erecting a building did not stop the spiritual work\nof the church. Rather it increased it. People heard of the church\nthrough the fairs and various other efforts to raise money, came to\nthe service, perhaps out of curiosity at first, became interested,\ntheir hearts were touched and they joined. Never did its spiritual\nlight burn more brightly than in these days of hard work and\nself-denial. The membership steadily rose, and when Grace Church moved\ninto its new temple of worship, more than twelve hundred members\nanswered the muster roll.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nOCCUPYING THE TEMPLE\n\nThe First Sunday. The Building Itself--Its Seating Capacity,\nFurnishing and Lighting. The Lower Temple and its Various Rooms and\nHalls. Services Heard by Telephone at the Samaritan Hospital.\n\n\nThat was a great day--the first Sunday in the new Temple. Six years\nof labor and love had gone to its building and now they possessed the\nland.\n\n\"During the opening exercises over nine thousand people were present\nat each service,\" said the \"Philadelphia Press\" writing of the event.\nThe throng overflowed into the Lower Temple; into the old church\nbuilding. The whole neighborhood was full of the joyful members of\nGrace Baptist Church. The very air seemed to thrill with the spirit\nof thanksgiving abroad that day. All that Sabbath from sunrise until\nclose to midnight members thronged the building with prayers of\nthankfulness and praise welling up from glad hearts.\n\nWriting from London several years later, Mr. Conwell voiced in words\nwhat had been in his mind when the church was planned:\n\n\"I heard a sermon which helped me greatly. It was delivered by an old\npreacher, and the subject was, 'This God is our God,' He described the\nattributes of God in glory, knowledge, wisdom and love, and compared\nHim to the gods the heathen do worship. He then pressed upon us the\nmessage that this glorious God is the Christian's God, and with Him we\ncannot want. It did me so much good, and made me long so much for more\nof God in all my feelings, actions, and influence. The seats were\nhard, and the tack of the pew hard and high, the church dusty and\nneglected; yet, in spite of all the discomforts, I was blessed. I\nwas sorry for the preacher who had to preach against all those\ndiscomforts, and did not wonder at the thin congregation. Oh! it is\nall wrong to make it so unnecessarily hard to listen to the gospel.\nThey ought for Jesus' sake tear out the old benches and put\nin comfortable chairs. There was an air about the service of\nperfunctoriness and lack of object, which made the service indefinite\nand aimless. This is a common fault. We lack an object and do not aim\nat anything special in our services. That, too, is all wrong. Each\nhymn, each chapter read, each anthem, each prayer, and each sermon\nshould have a special and appropriate purpose. May the Lord help me,\nafter my return, to profit by this day's lesson.\"\n\nNo hard benches, no air of cold dreariness marks The Temple. The\nexterior is beautiful and graceful in design, the interior cheery and\nhomelike in furnishing.\n\nThe building is of hewn stone, with a frontage on Broad Street of one\nhundred and seven feet, a depth on Berks Street of one hundred and\nfifty feet, a height of ninety feet. On the front is a beautiful half\nrose window of rich stained glass, and on the Berks Street side a\nnumber of smaller memorial windows, each depicting some beautiful\nBiblical scene or thought. Above the rose window on the front is a\nsmall iron balcony on which on special occasions, and at midnight on\nChristmas, New Year's Eve and Easter, the church orchestra and choir\nplay sacred melodies and sing hymns, filling the midnight hour with\nmelody and delighting thousands who gather to hear it.\n\nThe auditorium of The Temple has the largest seating capacity among\nProtestant church edifices in the United States. Its original seating\ncapacity according to the architect's plans, was forty-two hundred\nopera chairs. But to secure greater comfort and safety only thirty-one\nhundred and thirty-five chairs were used.\n\nUnder the auditorium and below the level of the street is the part of\nthe building called the Lower Temple. Here are Sunday School rooms,\nwith a seating capacity of two thousand. The Sunday School room and\nlecture room of the Lower Temple is forty-eight by one hundred and six\nfeet in dimensions. It also has many beautiful stained-glass windows.\nOn the platform is a cabinet organ and a grand piano. In the rear of\nthe lecture room is a dining-room, forty-five by forty-six feet,\nwith a capacity for seating five hundred people. Folding tables and\nhundreds of chairs are stowed away in the store rooms when not in use\nin the great dining-room. Opening out of this room are the rooms of\nthe Board of Trustees, the parlors and reading-rooms of the Young\nMen's Association and the Young Women's Association, and the kitchen,\ncarving-room and cloak-room. Through the kitchen is a passageway to\nthe engine and boiler rooms. In pantries and cupboards is an outfit\nof china and table cutlery sufficient to set a table for five hundred\npersons. The kitchen is fully equipped, with two large ranges,\nhot-water cylinders, sinks and drainage tanks. In the annex beyond the\nkitchen, a separate building contains the boilers and engine room and\nthe electric-light plants.\n\nThe steam-heating of the building is supplied by four one hundred\nhorse-power boilers. In the engine room are two one hundred and\nthirty-five horse-power engines, directly connected with dynamos\nhaving a capacity of twenty-five hundred lights, which are controlled\nby a switchboard in this room. The electrician is on duty every day,\ngiving his entire time to the management of this plant. The building\nis also supplied with gas. Directly behind the pulpit is a small\ncloset containing a friction wheel, by means of which, should the\nelectric light fail for any reason, every gas jet in The Temple can be\nlighted from dome to basement.\n\nFor cleaning the church, a vacuum plant has been installed, which\nsucks out every particle of dust and dirt. It does the work quickly\nand thoroughly, in fact, so thoroughly it is impossible even with the\nhardest beating to raise any dust on the covered chairs after they\nhave been cleaned by this process. Such crowds throng The Temple that\nsome quick, thorough method of cleaning it became imperative.\n\nBack of the auditorium on the street floor are the business offices of\nthe church, Mr. Conwell's study, the office of his secretary and of\nthe associate pastor. All are practically and cheerfully furnished,\nfitted with desks, filing cabinets, telephones, speaking tubes,\neverything to carry forward the business of the church in a\ntime-saving, businesslike way.\n\nThe acoustics of the great auditorium are perfect. There is no\nbuilding on this continent with an equal capacity which enables the\npreacher to speak and the hearers to listen with such perfect comfort.\nThe weakest voice is carried to the farthest auditor. Lecturers who\nhave tested the acoustic properties of halls in every state in the\nUnion speak with praise and pleasure of The Temple, which makes the\ndelivery of an oration to three thousand people as easy, so far as\nvocal effort is concerned, as a parlor conversation.\n\nTelephonic communication has recently been installed between the\nauditorium and the Samaritan Hospital. Patients in their beds can\nhear the sermons preached from The Temple pulpit and the music of the\nSunday services.\n\nCompared with other assembly rooms in this country, the auditorium of\nThe Temple is a model. It seats thirty-one hundred and thirty-five\npersons. The American Academy of Music, Philadelphia, seats\ntwenty-nine hundred; the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, twenty-four\nhundred and thirty-three; Academy in New York, twenty-four hundred and\nthirty-three; the Grand Opera House, Cincinnati, twenty-two hundred\nand fifty; and the Music Hall, Boston, twenty-five hundred and\neighty-five.\n\nBut greater than the building is the spirit that pervades it. The\nmoment one enters the vast auditorium with its crimson chairs, its\ncheery carpet, its softly tinted walls, one feels at home. Light\nfilters in through rich windows, in memory of some member gone before,\nsome class or organization. Back of the pulpit stands the organ, its\nrich pipes rising almost to the roof. Everywhere is rich, subdued\ncoloring, not ostentatious, but cheery, homelike.\n\nLarge as is the seating capacity of The Temple, when it was opened it\ncould not accommodate the crowds that thronged to it. Almost from the\nfirst, overflow meetings were held in the Lower Temple, that none\nneed be turned away from the House of God. From five hundred to two\nthousand people crowded these Sunday evenings in addition to the large\naudience in the main auditorium above.\n\nThe Temple workers had come to busy days and large opportunities. But\nthey took them humbly with a full sense of their responsibility, with\nprayer in their hearts that they might meet them worthily. Their\nleader knew the perils of success and with wise counsel guided them\nagainst its insidious dangers.\n\n\"Ah, that is a dangerous hour in the history of men and institutions,\"\nhe said, in a sermon on the \"Danger of Success,\" \"when they become too\npopular; when a good cause becomes too much admired or adored, so that\nthe man, or the institution, or the building, or the organization,\nreceives an idolatrous worship from the community. That is always\na dangerous time. Small men always go down, wrecked by such dizzy\nelevation. Whenever a small man is praised, he immediately loses\nhis balance of mind and ascribes to himself the things which others\nfoolishly express in flattery. He esteems himself more than he is;\nthinking himself to be something, he is consequently nothing. How\ndangerous is that point when a man, or a woman, or an enterprise has\nbecome accepted and popular! Then, of all times, should the man or the\nsociety be humble. Then, of all times, should they beware. Then, of\nall times, the hosts of Satan are marshaled that by every possible\ninsidious wile and open warfare they may overcome. The weakest hour in\nthe history of great enterprises is apt to be when they seem to be,\nand their projectors think they are, strongest. Take heed lest ye fall\nin the hour of your strength. The most powerful mill stream drives the\nwheel most vigorously at the moment before the flood sweeps the mill\nto wildest destruction.\"\n\nJust as plainly and unequivocally did he hold up before them the\npurpose of their high calling:\n\n\"The mission of the church is to save the souls of men. That is its\ntrue mission. It is the only mission of the church. That should be its\nonly thought. The moment any church admits a singer that does not sing\nto save souls; the moment a church calls a pastor who does not preach\nto save souls; the moment a church elects a deacon who does not work\nto save souls; the moment a church gives a supper or an entertainment\nof any kind not for the purpose of saving souls--it ceases in so much\nto be a church and to fulfil the magnificent mission God gave it.\nEvery concert, every choir service, every preaching service, every\nLord's supper, every agency that is used in the church must have the\ngreat mission plainly before its eye. We are here to save the souls of\ndying sinners; we are here for no other purpose; and the mission of\nthe church being so clear, that is the only test of a real church.\"\n\nThe thousands of men and women Grace Church has saved and placed in\npaths of righteousness and happiness, show that it has nobly stood\nthe test, that it has proved itself a church in the true sense of the\nword.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nHOW THE CHURCH WORKS\n\nThe Ladies' Aid Society. The Young Women's Association. The Young\nMen's Association. The Ushers' Association. The Christian Endeavor\nSocieties. The Many Other Organizations. What They Do, and How They Do\nIt.\n\n\nNow that the church was built, now that such power was in its hands,\nhow should it work?\n\n\"The church of Christ should be so conducted always as to save the\nlargest number of souls, and in the saving of souls the Institutional\nchurch may be of great assistance,\" said Russell Conwell in an address\non \"The Institutional Church.\" \"It is of little matter what your\ntheories are or what mine are; God, in His providence, is moving His\nchurch onward and moving it upward at the same time, adjusting it\nto new situations, fitting it to new conditions and to advancing\ncivilization, requiring us to use the new instrumentalities he has\nplaced in our hands for the purpose of saving the greatest number of\nhuman souls.\"\n\nThe conditions confronting him, the leader of this church studied. He\nturned his eyes backward over the years. He thought of his own boyhood\nwhen church was so distasteful. He thought of those ten busy years in\nBoston when he had worked among all classes of humanity, with churches\non all sides, yet few reaching down into the lives of the people in\nany vital way. He knew of the silent, agonizing cry for help, for\ncomfort, for light, that went up without ceasing day and night from\nhumanity in sorrow, in suffering, in affliction, went up as it were to\nskies of brass, yet he knew a loving Savior stood ready to pour forth\nhis healing love, a Divine Spirit waited only the means, to lay a\nhealing touch on sore hearts. What was needed was a simple, practical,\nreal way to make it understandable to men, to bring them into the\nright environment, to make their hearts and minds receptive, to point\nthe way to peace, joy and eternal life. He brought to bear on this\nproblem all the practical, trained skill of the lawyer, the keen\ninsight and common sense, the knowledge of the world, of the traveler\nand writer. Every experience of his own life he probed for help and\nlight on this great work Nothing was done haphazard. He studied the\nwants of men. He clearly saw the need. He calmly surveyed the field,\nthen he went to work with practical common sense to fill it, filling\nhis people with the enthusiasm and the faith that led him, doing with\na will all there was to do, and then leaving the rest with God. Never\ndid he think of himself, of how he might lighten his tasks, give\nhimself a little more leisure or rest. The work needing to be done and\nhow to do it was his study day and night.\n\n[Illustration: This Picture Shows the Four Speaking Tubes Which\nConnect by Telephone with the Samaritan Hospital]\n\nA reporter of the \"Philadelphia Press\" once asked Dr. George A. Peltz,\nthe associate pastor of Grace Church, \"if you were called upon to\nexpress in three words the secret of the mysterious power that has\nraised Grace Church from almost nothing to a membership of more than\nthree thousand, that has built this Temple, founded a college, opened\na hospital, and set every man, woman and child in the congregation to\nworking, what would be your answer?\"\n\n\"Sanctified common sense,\" was the Doctor's unhesitating reply.\n\nRev. F.B. Meyer, in speaking on \"Twentieth Century Evangelism,\" at\nBradford, England, in 1902, made a plea for \"the institutional church,\nthe wide outlook, more elastic methods, greater eagerness to reach and\nwin outsiders, more varied service on the part of Christian people,\nthat the minister of any place of worship should become the recognized\nfriend of the entire district in which his chapel is placed.\"\n\nThe \"elastic method\" is characteristic of the work of The Temple.\nWhen Dr. Conwell first came to Grace Church, he organized four\nsocieties--the Ladies' Aid Society, the Business Men's Union, the\nYoung Women's Association, the Young Men's Association. Into one or\nanother of these, every member of the church fitted, and as the new\nmembers came into the fellowship, they found work for their hands in\none or the other.\n\nThe Ladies' Aid Society is the pastor's right hand. It stands ready\nto undertake any project, social, religious, financial, to give\nreceptions in honor of noted visitors, to hold a series of special\nmeetings, to plan suppers, festivals, and other affairs--whenever it\nis necessary to raise money. Its creed, if one might so call it, is:\n\n    \"Use every opportunity to bring in new members.\n\n    \"Remember the name of every new church member.\n\n    \"Visit useless members and encourage them for their own sake to\n    become useful.\n\n    \"Visit persons when desired by the Pastors.\n\n    \"Speak cheerfully to each person present on every opportunity.\n\n    \"Regard every patron of your suppers or entertainments, and every\n    visitor to your religious meetings, as a guest calling on you in\n    your own house.\n\n    \"Accept contributions and subscriptions for the various Christian\n    enterprises.\n\n    \"Bring in every suggestion you hear which is valuable, new or\n    effective in Christian work elsewhere.\n\n    \"Never allow a meeting to pass without your doing _some one\n    practical_ thing for the advancement of Christ's kingdom.\n\n    \"Make yourself and the Society of some certain use to some person,\n    or some cause, each week.\"\n\nThe Society helps in the church prayer meetings, in refurnishing\nand improving the church property, in celebrating anniversaries, in\nmissionary enterprises, securing the insertion of tablets in the\nTemple walls, in clothing the poor, in supporting the local missions\nconnected with the church, in calling socially on church members or\nmembers of the congregation, in evangelistic meetings, in household\nprayer meetings, in supporting reading rooms, in comforting those in\nspecial affliction, in visiting the sick, in aiding the needy, in\npaying the church debt, in maintaining Mother's meetings, in looking\nafter the domestic wants of the Temple, in sewing for the Hospitals,\nthe Missions, the Baptist Home, the Orphanage, church fairs,\nMissionary workers, the poor, in managing church suppers and\nreceptions connected with Ordinations, Conventions, and other\nreligious gatherings.\n\nIt is one of the most important organizations of the church and has\nits own rooms handsomely furnished and well supplied with reading\nmatter.\n\nThe Business Men's Union drew into a close band the business men of\nthe church and used their knowledge of business affairs to plan and\ncarry out various projects for raising money for the building fund.\nThey also took a deep personal interest in each other's welfare as is\nshown by the following incident, taken from the \"Philadelphia Press\":\n\n\"At one time a member became involved in financial difficulties in a\nvery peculiar way. Previous to connecting himself with the church,\nhe had been engaged in a business which he felt he could not\nconscientiously continue after his conversion. He sold his interest\nand entered upon mercantile pursuits with which he was unfamiliar. As\na result, he became involved and his establishment was in danger of\nfalling into the sheriff's hands.\n\n\"His situation became known to some members of the Business Men's\nUnion, and a committee was appointed to look into his affairs. His\nbooks were found to be straight and his stock valuable. The members\nimmediately subscribed the thousands of dollars necessary to relieve\nhim of all embarrassment, and the man was saved.\"\n\nAfter the building was completed and the imperative need for such an\norganization was past, the members joined other organizations needing\ntheir help, and it disbanded. It is typical of the elastic methods of\nGrace Church that no society outlives its usefulness. When the need\nis past for it as a body, the members look elsewhere for work, and\nwherever each is needed, there he goes heart and soul to further some\nother endeavor.\n\nThe Young Women's Association is composed of young women of the\nchurch. It bubbles over with youthful enthusiasm and energy and is one\nof the strongest agencies for carrying forward the church work. Its\ncreed is:\n\n    \"Secure new members.\n\n    \"Attend the meetings, propose new work, urge on neglected duties.\n\n    \"Help the prayer meetings.\n\n    \"Volunteer for social meetings.\n\n    \"Aid in the entertainments.\n\n    \"Originate plans for Christian benevolent work.\n\n    \"Welcome young women to the Church.\n\n    \"Visit the sick members of the Church.\n\n    \"Seek after and encourage inquirers.\n\n    \"Hold household devotional meetings.\n\n    \"Sustain missionary work for young women.\n\n    \"Make the Church home cheerful and happy.\n\n    \"Arrange social home gatherings for various church or charitable\n    enterprises.\n\n    \"Solicit books or periodicals for the reading room or circulating\n    library.\n\n    \"Secure employment for the needy.\n\n    \"Treat all visitors to the rooms as special personal guests in\n    your home.\n\n    \"Undertake large things for the Church and Christ in many ways, as\n    may be suggested by any new conditions and deeds.\n\n    \"Instruct in domestic arts, dressmaking, millinery, cooking,\n    decoration, and, through the Samaritan Hospital, in the art of\n    nursing.\n\n    \"Furnish statedly instructive entertainments for the young.\n\n    \"Develop the various singing services.\n\n    \"Specially care for and assist young sisters.\n\n    \"Co\u00f6perate in sewing enterprises of all sorts.\n\n    \"Aid the Pastors by systematic visitation.\n\n    \"Push many branches of City Missions, especially with reference to\n    developing young women as workers.\n\n    \"Maintain suitable young women as missionaries at home or in\n    foreign fields.\n\n    \"Carry sunshine to darkened hearts and homes.\n\n    \"Be noble, influential Christian women.\"\n\nIt has a room of its own in the Lower Temple, with circulating\nlibrary, piano and all the cheerful furnishings of a parlor in the\nhome. To this bright room comes many a girl from her dreary boarding\nhouse to spend the evening in reading and social chat. It has been\nthe cheery starting point in many a girl's life to a career of happy\nusefulness.\n\nThe Young Men's Association follows similar lines and is an equally\nimportant factor in the church work. It plans to:\n\n    \"Help increase the membership and efficiency of the Young Men's\n    Bible Class and other similar organizations.\n\n    \"Persistently follow the meetings of these associations and keep\n    them in the hands of able, consecrated managers and officers, who\n    will lead in the best enterprises of the church.\n\n    \"Make the reading-room attractive and helpful.\n\n    \"Help sustain the great Sunday morning prayer meeting.\n\n    \"Invite passers-by to enter the church, and welcome strangers who\n    do enter.\n\n    \"Advise seekers after God.\n\n    \"Bring back the wandering.\n\n    \"Organize relief committees to save the lost young men of the\n    city.\n\n    \"Look after traveling business men at hotels, and bring them to\n    The Temple.\n\n    \"Promote temperance, purity, fraternity and spiritual life.\n\n    \"Initiate the most important undertakings of the church.\n\n    \"Surround themselves with strong young men, and inaugurate\n    vigorous, fresh plans and methods for bringing the gospel to the\n    young men of to-day in store, shop, office, school, college, on\n    the streets, and elsewhere.\n\n    \"Visit sick members, help into lucrative employment, organize\n    religious meetings, make the church life of the young bright,\n    inspiring and noble, plan for sociables, entertainments for closer\n    acquaintance and for raising money for Christian work and to use\n    their pens for Christ among young men whom they know, and also\n    with strangers.\"\n\nIt has a delightful room in the Lower Temple, carpeted, supplied with\nbooks, good light, a piano, comfortable chairs. It is a real home for\nyoung men alone in the city or without family or home ties.\n\nDuring the building of The Temple many associations were formed which,\nwhen the need was over, merged into others. As Burdette says:\n\n\"Often a working guild of some sort is brought into existence for a\nspecific but transient purpose; the object accomplished, the\nwork completed, the society disbands, or merges into some other\norganization, or reorganizes under a new name for some new work. The\nwork of Grace Church is like the operations of a great army; recruits\nare coming to the front constantly; regiments being assigned to this\ncorps, and suddenly withdrawn to reinforce that one; two or three\ncommands consolidated for a sudden emergency; one regiment deployed\nalong a great line of small posts; infantry detailed into the\nbatteries, cavalry dismounted for light infantry service, yet all\nthe time in all this apparent confusion and restless change which\nbewilders the civilian, everything is clear and plain and\nperfectly regular and methodical to the commanding general and his\nsubordinates.\"\n\nAnother association of this kind was the \"Committee of One Hundred,\"\norganized in 1891. The suggestion for its organization came from the\nYoung Women's Association. A number of them went to the Trustees and\nproposed that the Board should appoint a committee of fifty from among\nthe congregation to devise ways and means to raise money for paying\noff the floating indebtedness of the church. The suggestion was\nadopted. The Committee of Fifty was appointed, each organization of\nthe church being represented in it by one or more members. It met for\norganization in 1892. The Young Women's Association, pledged itself to\nraise $1,000 during the year. Other societies pledged certain sums.\nIndividuals went to work to swell the amount, and in one year, the\nCommittee reported that the floating debt of the church, which at the\ntime of the Committee's organization was $25,000, was paid. Encouraged\nby this success the Committee enlarged itself to one hundred and\nvigorously attacked the work of paying off the mortgage of $15,200 on\nthe ground on which the college was to be built.\n\nAmong the minor associations of the church that promoted good\nfellowship and did a definite good work in their time were the\n\"Tourists' Club,\" a social development of the Young Women's\nAssociation. The members took an ideal European trip while sitting in\nthe pleasant reading room in the Lower Temple. A route of travel was\nlaid out a month in advance. Each member present took some part; to\none was assigned the principal buildings; to another, some famous\npainting; to others, parks, hotels, places of amusement, ruins, etc.,\nuntil at the close of the evening they almost could hear the tongue of\nthe strange land through which in fancy they had journeyed. Maps and\npictures helped to materialize the journey.\n\nThe \"Girls\" Auxiliary was formed to meet the needs of the younger\nmembers of the church. Any girl under sixteen could become a member\nby the payment of monthly dues of five cents. There were classes in\nembroidery, elocution, sewing, etc.\n\nThe \"Youth's Culture League\" was organized for the work among youth of\nthe slums; an effort to supplement public school education, making it\na stepping-stone to higher culture and better living.\n\nSports of various kinds of course received attention. The Temple\nGuard, the Temple Cyclers, the Baseball League gave opportunity for\nall to enjoy some form of healthy outdoor sport. But since the college\nand its gymnasium have become so prominent, those who now join such\norganizations usually do it through college instead of church doors.\n\nThe following incident from the \"Philadelphia Evening Bulletin\" is\ntypical of the help these organizations often gave the church in its\nreligious work:\n\n[Illustration: THE OBSERVATORY\n\nBuilt on the Site of the Old Hemlock Tree]\n\n[Illustration: THE PRESENT CONWELL HOMESTEAD IN MASSACHUSETTS]\n\n\"Eight and a half years ago the Rev. Russell H. Conwell surprised a\ngreat many people by organizing a military company among his little\nboys. The old wiseacres shook their heads, and the elders of the old\nschool wondered at this new departure in church work. Then again he\nfairly shocked them by making the organization non-sectarian, and\nsecuring one of the best tacticians in the city to instruct the\nboys in military science.... From the first the company has clearly\ndemonstrated that it is the best-drilled military organization in the\ncity, and the number of prizes fairly won demonstrates this. However,\nthe company does not wish to be understood as being merely in\nexistence for prize honors, although it cannot be overlooked that\ntwenty victories over as many companies afford them the best record in\nPennsylvania.\n\n\"In 1896, the Samaritan Rescue Mission was established by the Grace\nBaptist Church, and proving a great financial burden, Dr. Conwell\noffered to give a lecture on Henry Ward Beecher. The Guard took the\nmatter up, brought Mrs. Henry Ward Beecher, despite her threescore\nyears and ten, to Philadelphia for the first time in her life, and\nso great was the desire of the church-loving public of this city to\nattend that the mission did not perish.\"\n\nWhen the stress of building and paying the church debt was passed,\nmany of these societies went heart and soul into the Christian\nEndeavor work. Indeed, for awhile it seemed as if the Christian\nEndeavor would absorb all the church associations. There are at\npresent fifteen Christian Endeavor Societies in the church. In\naddition to the Christian Endeavor pledge, the following special ways\nin which they can forward the church work is ever held before each\nmember:\n\n\"For the sake of your character and future success, as well as for the\nsupreme cause, keep your pledge unflinchingly.\n\n\"Endeavor persistently, but courteously, to seek after those who ask\nfor our prayers and advice at any meeting.\n\n\"Never discontinue your endeavors to get new members for the\nsocieties. Follow it continually in the name of the Lord.\n\n\"Endeavor each day to think, speak, act and pray like the Savior.\n\n\"Endeavor and present plans for effective work. Build up a standard of\nnoble living in the Church.\n\n\"Send comforting messages to members of the Church in sorrow, send\nflowers to the sick, or for the funeral, look after the orphans, visit\nthe widows and the fatherless, write letters of advice, invitation,\ncondolence, establish missions for new churches in growing parts of\nthe city, and hold by kindness at least one thousand personal friends\nat The Baptist Temple.\n\n\"Select one leading duty, and follow it without waiting to be asked.\n\n\"Make yourself a master of some special line of Christian effort.\n\n\"Save some one!\"\n\nFive of these societies some years ago started a mission at Logan,\na suburb of Philadelphia, and so successful was their work that the\nmission soon grew into a flourishing church.\n\nThe Ushers' Association is one of the strongest and most helpful\norganizations in furthering the church work. The ushers number\ntwenty-four, and are banded together in a businesslike association for\nmutual pleasure and good fellowship, and also to better conduct their\nwork and the church interests they have in hand. They are under the\nleadership of a chief usher who is president of the Association. The\nspirit of hospitality that pervades The Temple finds its happiest\nexpression in the courteous welcome and ready attention accorded\nvisitors by the ushers.\n\nAll members of the church who are willing to give up their seats to\nstrangers on special occasions send their names to the chief usher.\nAnd it is no unusual thing to see a member cheerfully relinquish his\nseat after a whispered consultation with an usher in favor of some\nstranger who is standing.\n\nIn addition to their work in seating the crowd that throng to The\nTemple either for Sunday services or the many entertainments that fill\nthe church during the week, the Ushers' Association itself during the\nwinter gives a series of fine entertainments. Its object is to offer\namusement of the very highest class, so that people will come to the\nchurch rather than go elsewhere in their leisure hours and thus be\nsurrounded by influences of the best character and by an atmosphere\nthat is elevating and refining. They have also undertaken to pay off\nthe balance of the church debt.\n\nMissionary interests at Grace Church are well looked after. The church\nhas educated and supported a number of missionaries in home and\nforeign fields, as well as contributed money and clothing to the\ncause. The Missionary Circle combines in one organization all those\ninterested in missionary work. One afternoon a month the members meet\nin the Lower Temple to sew, have supper together, and afterward hold\nreligious services. The members are advised in the church hand-book\nto--\n\n\"Suggest plans for raising money; arrange for a series of addresses;\norganize children's societies; distribute missionary literature;\nmaintain a circulating library of missionary books; correspond with\nmissionaries; solicit and work for the 'missionary barrels'; send out\n'comfort bags'; advocate missions in the prayer meetings and socials;\nencourage those members who are preparing for or are going into\nforeign fields, and maintain special missionary prayer meetings.\"\n\nMembers of the church have started several missions, some of which\nhave already grown into flourishing churches. The Logan Baptist Church\nand the Tioga Baptist Church, are both daughters of The Temple.\n\nThe Samaritan Aid Society sews and secures contributions of clothing\nand such supplies for the Samaritan Hospital. Other charities,\nhowever, needing such help, find it ever willing to lend its aid. It\nis ready for any emergency that may arise. A hurry call was sent\nonce for sheets, pillow cases and garments for the sick at Samaritan\nHospital. The President of the Society quickly summoned the members.\nMerchants were visited and contributions of muslin and thread secured.\nSewing machines were sent to the Lower Temple. An all-day sewing bee\nwas held, those who could, came all day, others dropped in as time\npermitted, and by sunset more than three hundred pieces of work were\nfinished.\n\nTwo other organizations very helpful to the members of the church\nare the Men's Beneficial Association and the Women's Beneficial\nAssociation. They are purely for the benefit of church members during\nsickness or bereavement, and are managed as all such associations are,\npaying $5.00 a week during sickness and $100 at death.\n\nThe books are closed at the end of each year and the fund started\nafresh.\n\nThe Temple Building and Loan Association was organized by the\nmembership of the Business Men's Association, and is officered by\nprominent members of the church. But it is not in any way a church\norganization and is not under the management of the church. It is\nvery successful and its stockholders are composed largely of church\nmembers.\n\nTo keep members and friends in touch with the many lines of activity\nin which the church works, a magazine, \"The Temple Review,\" is\npublished. It is a private business enterprise, but it chronicles\nchurch work and publishes each week Dr. Conwell's sermons. Many\nliving at a distance who cannot come often to The Temple find it most\nenjoyable and helpful to thus obtain their pastor's sermons, and to\nlook through the printed page into the busy life of the church itself.\nIt helps members in some one branch of the church work to keep in\ntouch with what others are doing. The work of the college and hospital\nfrom week to week is also chronicled, so that it is a very good mirror\nof the many activities of the Grace Church membership.\n\nThus in good fellowship the church works unitedly to further Christ's\nkingdom. New organizations are formed as some enthusiastic member\ndiscerns a new need or a new field. It is a veritable hive of industry\nwhose doors are never closed day or night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nFAIRS AND ENTERTAINMENTS\n\nThe Temple Fairs. How They are Planned. Their Religious Aim.\nAppointment of Committees. How the Committees Work. The Church\nEntertainments. Their Character.\n\n\nNot only does the church work in a hundred ways through its regular\norganizations to advance the spiritual life of its members and the\ncommunity, but once every year, organization fences are taken down and\nas a whole and united body, it marches forward to a great fair. The\nTemple fairs are famous. They form an important feature of church\nlife, and an important date in the church calendar.\n\n\"The true object of a church fair should be to strengthen the church,\nto propagate the Gospel, and to bring the world nearer to its God.\"\nThat is Dr. Conwell's idea of the purpose of a church fair and the\nbasic principle on which The Temple fairs are built. They always open\non Thanksgiving Day, the anniversary of Dr. Conwell's coming to the\nchurch and continue for ten days or two weeks thereafter. These fairs\nare most carefully planned. The membership, of course, know that a\nfair is to be held; but before any definite information of the special\nfair coming, is given them, a strong foundation of systematic, careful\npreparation is laid. In the early summer, before Dr. Conwell leaves\nfor his two months' rest at his old home in the Berkshires, he and the\ndeaconess of the church go over the ground, decide on the executive\ncommittee and call it together. Officers are elected, Dr. Conwell\nalways being appointed president and the deaconess, as a rule,\nsecretary. The whole church membership is then carefully studied,\nand every member put at work upon some committee, a chairman for\nthe committee being appointed at the same time. A notice of their\nappointment, the list of their fellow workers, and a letter from the\npastor relative to the fair are then sent to each. Usually these lists\nare prepared and forwarded from Dr. Conwell's summer home. The chief\npurpose of the fair, that of saving souls, is ever kept in view. The\npastor in his letter to each member always lays special stress on it.\nQuoting from one such letter, he says:\n\n\"The religious purpose is to consolidate our church by a more\nextensive and intimate acquaintance with each other, and to enlarge\nthe circle of social influence over those who have not accepted\nChrist.\n\n\"This enterprise being undertaken for the service of Christ, each\nchurch member is urged to enter it with earnest prayer, and to use\nevery opportunity to direct the attention of workers and visitors to\nspiritual things.\n\n\"Each committee should have its prayer circle or a special season set\napart for devotional services. This carnival being undertaken for the\nspiritual good of the church, intimate friends and those who have\nhitherto worked together are especially requested to separate on\nthis occasion and work with new members, forming a new circle of\nacquaintances.\n\n\"Do not seek for a different place unless it is clear that you can do\nmuch more in another position, for they honor God most who take up His\nwork right where they are and do faithfully the duty nearest to them.\n\n\"Your pastor prays earnestly that this season of work, offering, and\npleasure may be used by the Lord to help humanity and add to the glory\nof His Kingdom on earth.\"\n\nThis is the tenor of the letters sent each year. This is the purpose\nheld ever before the workers.\n\nEach committee is urged to meet as soon as possible, and, as a rule,\nthe chairman calls a meeting within a week after the receipt of the\nlist. Each committee upon meeting elects a president, vice-president,\nsecretary and treasurer, which, together with the original executive\ncommittee, form the executive committee of the fair.\n\nDuring the summer and fall, until the opening of the fair, these\nvarious committees work to secure contributions or whatever may be\nneeded for the special work they have been appointed to do. If they\nneed costumes, or expensive decorations for the booths, they give\nentertainments to raise the money. All this depends upon the character\nof the fair in general. Sometimes it is a fair in the accepted sense\nof the word, devoted to the selling of such goods as interested\nfriends and well-wishers have contributed. At other times it takes\non special significance. At one fair each committee represented a\ncountry, the members dressed in the costume of its people, the booth\nso far as possible was typical of a home, or some special building.\nSuch products of the country as could be obtained were among the\narticles sold or exhibited.\n\nEvery committee meeting is opened with prayer, and each night during\nthe fair a prayer meeting is held. In addition, a committee is\nappointed to look after the throng of strangers visiting the fair, and\nwhenever possible, to get them to register in a book kept especially\nfor that purpose at the entrance. To all those who sign the register,\na New Year's greeting is sent as a little token of recognition and\nappreciation of their help.\n\nMuch of the great tide of membership that flows into the church comes\nthrough the doors of these church fairs. The fairs are really revival\nseasons. They are practical illustrations of how a working church\nprays, and a praying church works. Christianity has on its working\nclothes. But it is Christianity none the less, outspoken in its faith,\nfearless in its testimony, full of the love that desires to help every\nman and woman to a higher, happier life.\n\nThe church entertainments form another important feature of church\nlife. Indeed, from the first of September until summer is well\nstarted, few weekday nights pass but that some religious service or\nsome entertainment is taking place in The Temple. In the height of\nthe season, it is no uncommon thing for two or three to be given\nin various halls of The Temple on one evening. An out-of-town man\nattending a lecture at the Lower Temple, and seeing the throngs of\npeople pouring in at various entrances, asked the custodian of the\ndoor if there were a rear entrance to the auditorium.\n\n\"Here's where you go in for the lecture,\" was the reply. \"There are\ntwo other entertainments on hand this evening in the halls of the\nLower Temple. That's where those people are going.\"\n\nIn regard to church fairs and entertainments, Dr. Conwell said in a\nsermon in 1893:\n\n\"The Lord pity any church that has not enough of the spirit of Christ\nin it to stand a church fair, wherein devout offerings are brought to\nthe tithing-house in the spirit of true devotion; the Lord pity any\nchurch that has not enough of the spirit of Jesus in it to endure or\nenjoy a pure entertainment. Indeed, they are subjects for prayer if\nthey cannot, without quarrels, without fightings, without defeat to\nthe cause of Christ, engage in the pure and innocent things God offers\nto His children.\"\n\nAnd in an address on \"The Institutional Church,\" he says:\n\n\"The Institutional church of the future will have the best regular\nlecture courses of the highest order. There will be about them\nsufficient entertainment to hold the audience, while at the same time\nthey give positive instruction and spiritual elevation. Every church\nof Christ is so sacred that it ought to have within its walls anything\nthat helps to save souls. If an entertainment is put into a church\nfor any secular purpose--simply to make money--that church will be\ndivided; it will be meshed in quarrels, and souls will not be saved\nthere. There must be a higher end; as between the church and the world\nwe must use everything that will save and reject everything that will\ninjure. This requires careful and close attention. You must keep in\nmind the question, 'Will Jesus come here and save souls?' Carefully\neliminate all that will show irreverence for holy things or disrespect\nfor the church. Carefully introduce wherever you can the direct\nteachings of the Gospel, and then your entertainments will be the\npower of God unto salvation. The entertainments of the church need to\nbe carefully guarded, and, if they are, then will the church of the\nfuture control the entertainments of the world. The theatre that has\nits displays of low and vulgar amusement will not pay, because the\nchurches will hold the best classes, and for a divine and humane\npurpose will conduct the best entertainments. There will be a double\ninducement that will draw all classes. The Institutional church of the\nfuture will be free to use any reasonable means to influence men for\ngood.\"\n\nThe Temple, as can be seen, believes in good, pure, elevating\namusements. But every entertainment to be given is carefully\nconsidered. In such a vast body of workers, many of them young and\ninexperienced, this is necessary. By a vote of the church, every\nprogramme to be used in any entertainment in The Temple must first\nbe submitted to the Board of Deacons. What they disapprove cannot be\npresented to the congregation of Grace Church under any circumstance.\n\nThe concerts and oratorios of the chorus are of the very highest order\nand attract music lovers from all parts of the city and nearby towns.\nThe other entertainments in the course of a year cover such a variety\nof subjects that every one is sure to find something to his liking.\nAmong the lectures given in one year were:\n\n\"Changes and Chances,\" by Dr. George C. Lorimer.\n\n\"The Greek Church,\" by Charles Emory Smith.\n\n\"Ancient Greece,\" by Professor Leotsakos, of the University of Athens.\n\nAn illustrated lecture on the Yellowstone Park, by Professor George L.\nMaris.\n\n\"Work or How to Get a Living,\" by Hon. Roswell G. Horr.\n\n\"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,\" by Rev. Robert Nourse, D.D.\n\n\"Backbone,\" by Rev. Thomas Dixon.\n\nThe other entertainments that season included selections from \"David\nCopperfield,\" by Leland T. Powers; readings by Fred Emerson Brooks,\nconcerts by the Germania Orchestra, the Mendelssohn Quintette Club\nof Boston and the Ringgold Band of Reading, Pennsylvania; a \"Greek\nFestival,\" tableaux, by students of Temple College; \"Tableaux of East\nIndian Life,\" conducted by a returned missionary, Mrs. David Downie;\n\"Art Entertainment,\" by the Young Women's Association; concert by the\nNew York Philharmonic Club; and many entertainments by societies of\nthe younger people, music, recitations, readings, debates, suppers,\nexcursions, public debates, class socials. The year seems to have been\nfull of entertainments, teas, anniversaries, athletic meetings, \"cycle\nruns,\" gymnasium exhibitions, \"welcomes,\" \"farewells,\" jubilees,\n\"feasts.\" But every year is the same.\n\nA single society of the church gave during one winter a series of\nentertainments which included four lectures by men prominent in\nspecial fields of work, four concerts by companies of national\nreputation, and an intensely interesting evening with moving pictures.\n\n\"We are often criticised as a church,\" said Mr. Conwell, in an\naddress, \"by persons who do not understand the purposes or spirit of\nour work. They say, 'You have a great many entertainments and socials,\nand the church is in danger of going over to the world.' Ah, yes; the\nold hermits went away and hid themselves in the rocks and caves and\nlived on the scantiest food, and 'kept away from the world,' They were\nseparate from the world. They were in no danger of 'going over to the\nworld.' They had hidden themselves far away from man. And so it is in\nsome churches where in coldness and forgetfulness of Christ's purpose,\nof Christ's sacrifice, and the purpose for which the church was\ninstituted, they withdraw themselves so far from the world that they\ncannot save a drowning man when he is in sight--they cannot reach down\nto him, the distance is too great--the life line is too short. Where\nare the unchurched masses of Philadelphia to-day? Why are they not\nin the churches at this hour? Because the church is so far away. The\ndifference that is found between the church which saves and that which\ndoes not is found in the fact that the latter holds to the Pharisaical\nprofession that the church must keep itself aloof from the\npeople--yes, from the drowning thousands who are going down to\neverlasting ruin--to be forever lost. The danger is not now so much in\ngoing over to the world as in going away from it--away from the world\nwhich Jesus died to save--the world which the church should lead to\nHim.\"\n\nIn all these entertainments, the true mission of the church is never\nforgotten--that mission which its pastor so earnestly and often says\nis \"not to entertain people. The church's only thought should be to\nturn the hearts of men to God.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nTHE BUSINESS SIDE\n\nHow the Finances are Managed. The Work of the Deacons. The Duties of\nthe Trustees.\n\n\n\"The plain facts of life must be recognized,\" says Dr. Conwell. The\nbusiness affairs of Grace Baptist Church are plain facts and big ones.\nThere is no evading them. The membership is more than three thousand.\nA constant stream of money from the rental of seats, from voluntary\nofferings, from entertainments, is pouring in, and as quickly going\nout for expenses and charitable purposes. It must all be looked after.\nA record of the membership must be kept, changes of address made--and\nthis is no light matter--the members themselves kept in touch with.\nIt all means work of a practical business nature and to get the best\nresults at least expenditure of time and money, it must all be done in\nskilled, experienced fashion. Dr. Conwell, in speaking of the careful\nway in which the business affairs of the church are conducted, says:\n\n\"What has contributed most as the means used of God to bring Grace\nChurch up to its efficiency? I answer it was the inspired, sanctified,\ncommon sense of enterprising, careful business men. The disciplined\njudgment, the knowledge of men, the forethought and skill of these\nworkers who were educated at the school of practical business\nlife, helped most. The Trustees and working committees in all our\nundertakings, whether for Church, Hospital, College, or Missions, have\nbeen, providentially, men of thorough business training, who used\ntheir experience and skill for the church with even greater care and\nperseverance than they would have done in their own affairs.\n\n\"When they wanted lumber, they knew where to purchase it, and how to\nobtain discounts. When they needed money, they knew where the money\nwas, and what securities were good in the market. They saved by\ndiscounting their own bills, and kindly insisted that contractors and\nlaborers should earn fairly the money they received. They foresaw the\nfinancial needs and always insisted on securing the money in full time\nto meet demands.\n\n\"Some men make religion so dreamy, so unreal, so unnatural, that the\nmore they believe in it the less practical they become. They expect\nravens to feed them, the cruse of oil to be inexhaustible, and the\nfish to come to the right side of the ship at breakfast time. They\ntrust in God and loaf about. They would conduct mundane affairs as\nthough men were angels and church business a series of miracles. But\nthe successful church worker is one who recognizes the plain facts of\nlife, and their relation to heavenly things; who is neither profane\nnor crazy, who feels that his experience and judgment are gifts of God\nto be used, but who also fully realizes that, after all, unless God\nlives in the house, they labor in vain who build it.\n\n\"None of our successful managers have been flowery orators, nor have\nthey been in the habit of wearying man and the Lord with long prayers.\nIf they speak, they are earnest and conservative. They are men whom the\nbanks would trust, whose recommendations are valuable, who know a\ncounterfeit dollar or a worthless endorsement They read men at a glance,\nbeing trained in actual experience with all classes. They have been the\npillars of the church. While some have been praying with religious\nphraseology that the stray calf might be sent home, these men have gone\nafter him and brought him back. They have faithfully done their part,\nand God has answered their earnest prayers for the rest.\"\n\nDr. Peltz, for many years associate pastor of The Temple, in speaking\nof the business management of the affairs of the church, says:\n\n\"Many persons imagine that the financial organization of Grace Baptist\nChurch must be something out of the usual way, because the results\nhave been so unusual. There is nothing peculiar in the general plan of\nfinancial procedure, but great pains are taken to work the plan for\nall it is worth. Special pains have been taken to secure consecrated\nand competent men for the Board of Trustees. And the Trustees do this\none thing, a rule of the church permitting a man to hold but one\nelective office. Competent financiers, consecrated to this work, and\ndoing it as carefully as they would do their own business, is the\nstatement that tells the whole story.\"\n\nAll these business matters are in the hands of the deacons and\nTrustees, the deacons, if any distinction in the work can be made,\nlooking after the membership, the Board of Trustees attending to the\nfinancial matters.\n\n[Illustration: _Photo by Gutehunst_ PROFESSOR DAVID D WOOD]\n\nAfter a person has signified his intention to join the church, he\nmeets the deacons, who explain to him the system by which members\ncontribute to the support of the church. If he desires to contribute\nby taking a sitting, he is assigned a seat according to the amount he\nwishes to pay, or he can pay the regular church dues, $1.20 a year\nfor those under eighteen years of age, $3.00 for those over that age.\nThose who take sittings find in their seats, on the first of every\nmonth, a small envelope made out in bill form on the face, stating the\nmonth and the amount due. Into this they can place their money,\nseal it, and put it into the basket when the offering is taken. The\nfollowing Sunday a receipt is placed in their seat, a duplicate being\nkept in the office. Envelopes are sent those who do not have sittings,\nand in these they can send in their dues any time within the year.\n\nIn addition to the little envelope for the seat rent, every Sunday\nenvelopes are placed in each seat for the regular Sunday offering.\nThese envelopes read:\n\n  SPECIAL OFFERING\n\n  THE BAPTIST TEMPLE\n\n  Amount  ..................\n\n  Name ........................\n\n  Address ......................\n\n  This offering is made in thankful recognition of the Mercy and\n  Goodness of God during the past week, and with the hope that\n  my gift and my prayer may he acceptable to God.\n\n  In addition to the amount raised from sittings and dues, it is\n  necessary for the payment of the debt on the Temple to have\n  givers for 5 years as follows:\n\n  100 persons who will contribute 50 cents per week. 300 persons\n  25 cents per week. 1000 persons 10 cents per week. 1300\n  persons 5 cents per week.\n\n  VISITORS AND MEMBERS\n\n  Can enclose special Messages for the Pastor with their offerings.\n\n  This Gift will be Recorded on the books of the Church.\n\nAll this money pours into the business office of the church, where it\nis taken in charge by the Finance Committee of the Board of Trustees\nand duly recorded by the Financial Secretary.\n\nThe business office is a very businesslike place, with files,\ntypewriter, letter-copying press, big ledgers and all the modern\nappliances of an up-to-date business office.\n\nThe card system is used for keeping the record of member's\ncontribution, being printed in a form that will last for eight years.\n\nAll payments are entered on these, and at any time at a moment's\nnotice, a member can tell just what he has paid or what he owes on the\nyear's account.\n\nBut in addition, the Sunday offerings of all those who place their\ncontributions in envelopes at the morning and evening service and sign\ntheir names, are entered on cards, and when it is remembered that the\nbasket collections alone for the year 1904 amounted to $6,995.00, it\ncan be seen that this is no light task. But The Temple appreciates\nwhat is given it, and likes to keep a record. Any person giving to The\nTemple and signing his name to his gift, can find at any time how much\nhe has contributed during the year.\n\nAll this income is deposited to the order of the church treasurer,\nwho is then at liberty to draw against it as directed by the Board of\nTrustees and properly certified by their chairman and secretary. The\nbusiness office is kept open during the entire week with the exception\nof two afternoons, and two evenings.\n\nThe pew committee, which is composed of three members of the Board of\nTrustees, attends to the rental of the many sittings in The Temple. A\nlarge number of the regular attendants at the services of The Temple\nare not members of the church. They enjoy the services and so rent\nsittings that they may he sure of a seat. The third committee drawn\nfrom the Board of Trustees is the House Committee, composed of three\nmembers. It has charge of The Temple building; sees to its being kept\nin order; arranges for all regular and special meetings; sees that the\nbuilding is properly heated and lighted; decides on all questions as\nto the use of the house for any purpose, for the use of a part of it\nfor special purposes; manages the great crowds that so often throng\nthe building; has charge of the doors when entertainments are going\non; in short, makes the most and the best of the great building under\nits care. Six persons are constantly employed in taking care of The\nTemple, and often there is necessity for securing extra help for the\ncaretakers of this church whose doors are never shut.\n\nThe Deacons, as always, look after the welfare of the membership. On\nCommunion Sundays, cards are passed the members that they may sign\ntheir names. These cards the Deacons take charge of and record the\nmembers present and those absent If a member is away three successive\ncommunion Sundays the Deacons call on him, if he lives in the city, to\nfind the cause of his absence. If he resides in some neighboring town,\nthey send a kindly letter to know if it is not possible for him to\nattend some of the Communion services. In person or by letter, they\nkeep a loving watch over the vast membership, so that every member\nfeels that even though he may not attend often, he is not forgotten.\n\nThus the business of Grace Baptist Church is managed prayerfully but\npractically. If some part of the machinery seems cumbersome, shrewd\nand experienced minds take the matter in hand and see whereby it can\nbe improved. What may seem a good method to-day, a year from now may\nbe deemed a waste of time and energy and cast aside for the new and\nimproved system that has taken its place in the world of every-day\nwork. In its business methods the church keeps up to the times, as\nwell as in its spiritual work. It knows it cannot grow if it is not\nalive.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nTHE CHORUS OF THE TEMPLE\n\nIts Leader, Professor David Wood. How he Came to the Church. A sketch\nof His life. The Business Management of the Chorus. The Fine System.\nThe Sheet Music and Its Care. Oratorios and Concerts. Finances of the\nChorus. Contributions it has Made to Church Work.\n\n\nWith a pastor who had loved music from childhood, who taught it in\nhis early manhood, who was himself proficient on several instruments,\nmusic naturally assumed an important place in Temple life and work.\nFrom the moment of his entering upon the pastorate of Grace Baptist\nChurch, Mr. Conwell made the music an enjoyable feature of the\nservices.\n\nIn this early work of organizing and developing a church choir, he\nfound an able and loyal leader in Professor David D. Wood, who threw\nhimself heart and soul into helping the church to grow musically. He\nhas been to the musical life of the church what Mr. Conwell has been\nto its spiritual growth, and next to their pastor himself, it is\ndoubtful if any man is so endeared to the Grace Church membership as\nis Professor Wood, their blind organist.\n\nHe came to them in May, 1885, the regular organist being sick. His\nconnection with the church came about in the most simple manner and\nyet it has been invaluable to the work of The Temple. His son was an\nattendant at the church, and when the regular organist fell ill,\nasked his father if he would not take his place. Ever ready to do a\nkindness. Professor Wood consented. The organist never sufficiently\nrecovered to come back to his post, being compelled to go West finally\nfor his health. Mr. Conwell asked Professor Wood to take the position,\nand from that day to the present he has filled it to the satisfaction\nand gratification of the Grace Church.\n\nHe was born in Pittsburgh, March 2, 1838. His parents were poor, his\nfather being a carpenter and he himself built the little log cabin in\nwhich the family lived. When David was a baby only a few months old,\nhe lost the sight of one eye by inflammation resulting from a severe\ncold. When about three years old, he noiselessly followed his sister\ninto the cellar one day, intending in a spirit of mischief to blow out\nthe candle she was carrying. Just as he leaned over to do it, she,\nunconscious that he was there, raised up, thrusting the candle in her\nhand right into his eye. The little boy's cry of pain was the first\nwarning of his presence. The eye was injured, but probably he would\nnot entirely have lost its sight had he not been attacked shortly\nafter this with scarlet fever. When he recovered from this illness\nhe was entirely blind. But the affliction did not change his sweet,\nloving disposition. He entered as best he could into the games and\nsports of childhood and grew rugged and strong. One day, while playing\nin the road, he was nearly run over by a carriage driven by a lady.\nLearning the little fellow was blind, she became interested in him\nand told his father of the school for the blind in Philadelphia. His\nparents decided to send him to it, and at five years of age he was\nsent over the mountains, making the journey in five days by canal.\n\nHe was a bright, diligent pupil and a great reader, showing even at an\nearly age his passion for music. When eight years old, he learned the\nflute. Soon he could play the violin and piano, and in his twelfth\nyear he began playing the organ. All these instruments he took up and\nmastered himself without special instruction. In mathematics, James G.\nBlaine was his instructor for two years.\n\nAfter leaving school his struggles to succeed as an organist were hard\nand hitter. Despite his unusual ability, it was difficult to secure a\nposition. He met with far more refusals than encouragement. But he was\npersistent and cheerful. Finally success came. Two days before Easter\nthe organist of an Episcopal church was suddenly incapacitated and no\none could be found to play the music. Professor Wood offered himself.\nThe rector's wife read the music to him. He learned it in an hour,\nand rehearsal and the services passed off without a break. He was\nimmediately engaged, his salary being one hundred dollars a year, his\nnext position paid him fifty dollars a year. In 1864, he went to St.\nStephen's Episcopal Church, Philadelphia, as choirmaster and organist,\nwhich position he still holds, playing at The Temple in the evenings\nonly.\n\nHe is to-day one of the most widely known organists of the country,\nbeing acknowledged everywhere a master of the instrument. He is a\nmember of the faculty of the Philadelphia Musical Academy, principal\nof the music department in the Pennsylvania School for the Blind. It\nis said he has trained more good organists than any other teacher in\nPhiladelphia.\n\nHis cheery, kindly personality wins loyalty and devotion at once. His\nChristianity is the simple, loving, practical kind that fairly shines\nfrom his presence and attracts people to him immediately. The members\nof the Chorus of The Temple are devoted to him. No rules are required\nto keep them in order; no other inspiration to do their best is needed\nthan his simple wish.\n\nIn the old church at Mervine and Berks streets he had a volunteer\nchoir of about twenty, all that the little organ loft would\naccommodate. They could sing as the birds sing, because they had\nvoices and loved it, but of musical training or education they had\nlittle. They were drawn from the membership of the church, composed of\npoor working people.\n\nFrom this nucleus grew the chorus of The Temple, which was organized\nin 1891, six weeks before the membership took possession of its new\nbuilding. With the organization of this large chorus, Professor Wood\nfaced a new and difficult problem. How was he to hold from one hundred\nto one hundred and fifty people together, who were not paid for their\nservices, who were not people of leisure to whom rehearsals are no tax\non time or strength? These were nearly all working people who came to\nrehearsal after a day's tiring employment. That he has succeeded so\nsplendidly in these fourteen years proves his fine leadership.\n\nHe had a body of workers devoted to the church, people before whom was\never held up the fact that they could serve the Master they all loved\nby singing, if they could in no other way; that they could give their\nvoices, if they could give nothing else. He had a body of workers\ndevoted also to himself, who would have followed him unhesitatingly no\nmatter what commands he lay upon them. But he felt they should have\nsome other encouragement, some other interest to hold them together,\nso almost immediately upon their organization he took up the study of\nHaydn's \"Creation.\" It seemed a stupendous undertaking for a young and\ninexperienced chorus, one with no trained voices, few of whom could\neven read music at sight. But they plunged into the study with spirit.\nNo incentive was needed to come to rehearsals, no one thought of\ndropping out. Indeed, the opportunity to study such music under such\na master brought many new members. And in the fall of that year the\noratorio was given with splendid success.\n\nThis method has been followed ever since. Every year some special work\nis taken up for study and given in the fall. It is an event that is\nnow a recognized feature of the city's musical life, eagerly awaited\nby music lovers not only of Philadelphia but of nearby towns. In\naddition to Haydn's \"Creation,\" which has been sung four times,\nthe chorus has given Handel's \"Messiah\" three times, Mendelssohn's\n\"Elijah\" twice, Beethoven's \"Mount of Olives,\" Mendelssohn's \"Hymn of\nPraise,\" Miriam's \"Song of Triumph.\" It has also given a number of\nsecular concerts. For all this extra work neither Professor Wood nor\nany member of the chorus has ever received one cent of pay. It is all\ncheerfully contributed. The oratorios are given with a full orchestra\nand eminent soloists. In the secular concerts the music is always of\nthe highest order. Guilmant, the celebrated French organist, gave a\nrecital at The Temple while in this country. The chorus believes\nin the best, both in the class of music it gives and the talent it\nsecures, and has long been looked on by those interested in the city's\nmusical welfare as a society that encourages and supports all that\nis high and fine in music. Among the selections given at the Sunday\nservices are Gounod's \"Sanctus,\" the magnificent \"Pilgrim's Chorus,\"\nthe \"Gloria,\" from Mozart's \"Twelfth Mass,\" Handel's beautiful\n\"Largo,\" the \"St. Cecilia Mass,\" and others of the same character.\n\nThe plan of fining members for absence from rehearsal, which was\nadopted at the time the chorus was organized, has also had much to do\nwith its success, though it is rather unusual for a choir. Instead of\nbeing paid to sing, they pay if they do not sing. The fine at first\nwas twenty-five cents for each failure to attend rehearsal or Sunday\nservice. Many shook their heads and said it was a bad idea, that the\nmembers wouldn't come and couldn't pay the fine, and that the chorus\nwould go to pieces. But the members did come, and when for any reason\nthey were compelled to stay away they cheerfully paid the fine and the\nchorus flourished. These fines helped to pay the current expenses of\nthe chorus. In the last three years the amount has been reduced to\nten cents, but it still nets a sum in the course of the year that the\ntreasurer welcomes most gladly. A collection is also taken at each\nservice among the members, which likewise helps to swell the chorus\ntreasury.\n\nSpeaking of the organization and work of such a chorus, Professor Wood\nsays:\n\n\"In organizing a church chorus one must not be too particular about\nthe previous musical education of applicants. It is not necessary that\nthey be musicians, or even that they read music readily. All that I\ninsist upon is a fairly good voice and a correct ear. I assume, of\ncourse, that all comers desire to learn to sing. Rehearsals must be\nscrupulously maintained, beginning promptly, continuing with spirit,\nand not interrupted with disorder of any kind. A rehearsal should\nnever exceed two hours, and a half hour less is plenty long enough,\nif there is no waste of time. In learning new music, voices should be\nrehearsed separately; that is, all sopranos, tenors, basses, and altos\nby themselves first, then combine the voices. You should place before\na choir a variety of music sufficient to arouse the interest of all\nconcerned. This will include much beyond the direct demand for church\nwork. The chorus of The Temple has learned and sung on appropriate\noccasions war songs, college songs, patriotic songs, and other grades\nof popular music.\n\n\"No one man's taste should rule in regard to these questions as\nto variety, although the proprieties of every occasion should be\ncarefully preserved. Due regard must be paid to the taste of members\nof the chorus. If any of them express a wish for a particular piece, I\nlet them have it. When it comes my time to select, they are with me.\nKeep some high attainment before the singers all the time. When the\neasier tasks are mastered, attempt something more difficult. It\nmaintains enthusiasm to be ever after something better, and\nenthusiasm is a power everywhere. In music, this is 'the spirit which\nquickeneth.'\n\n\"In the preparation of chorus work do not insist on perfection. When\nI get them to sing fairly well, I am satisfied. To insist on extreme\naccuracy will discourage singers. Do not, therefore, overtrain them.\n\n\"An incredible amount may be done even by a crude company of singers.\nWhen the preparation began for the opening of The Temple, there was\nbut a handful of volunteers and time for but five rehearsals. But\nenthusiasm rose, reinforcements came, and six anthems, including the\n'Hallelujah Chorus,' were prepared and sung in a praiseworthy manner.\nDo not fear to attempt great things. Timidity ruins many a chorus.\n\n\"Do not be afraid to praise your singers. Give praise, and plenty of\nit, whenever and wherever it is due. A domineering spirit will prove\ndisastrous. Severity or ridicule will kill them. Correct faults\nfaithfully and promptly, but kindly.\n\n\"In the matter of discipline I am a strong advocate of the 'fine\nsystem.' It is the only way to keep a chorus together. The fines\nshould he regulated according to the financial ability of the chorus.\nOur fine at The Temple was at first twenty-five cents for every\nrehearsal and every service missed. It has since been dropped to ten\ncents. This is quite moderate. In some musical societies the fine is\none dollar for every absence. This system is far better than monthly\ndues.\n\n\"The advantages to members of a chorus are many and of great value.\nConcerted work has advantages which can be secured in no other way. A\ngood chorus is an unequaled drill in musical time. The singer cannot\nhumor himself as the soloist can, but must go right on with the grand\nadvance of the company. He gets constant help also, in the accurate\nreading of music. Then, too, there is an indescribable, uplifting,\nenkindling power in the presence and co\u00f6peration of others. The volume\nof song lifts one, as when a great congregation sings. It is the\n_esprit du corps_ of the army; that magnetic power which comes from\nthe touch of elbows, and the consecration to a common cause. No\nsoloist gets this.\n\n\"Some would-be soloists make a great mistake right here. They think\nthat chorus work spoils them as soloists. Not at all, if they have\nproper views of individual work in a chorus. If they propose to sing\nout so they shall sound forth above all others, then they may damage\ntheir voices for solo work. But that is a needless and highly improper\nuse of the voice. Sing along with the others in a natural tone. They\nwill be helped and the soloist will not be harmed.\n\n\"The best conservatories of music in the world require of their\nstudents a large amount of practice in concerted performance and will\nnot grant diplomas without it. All the great soloists have served\ntheir time as chorus singers. Parepa-Rosa, when singing in the solo\nparts in oratorio, would habitually sing in the chorus parts also,\nsinging from beginning to end with the others.\n\n\"Many persons have expressed their astonishment at the absence of the\nbaton both from the rehearsals and public performances of the chorus\nof The Temple. Experience has proven to me, beyond a doubt, that a\nchorus can be better drilled without a baton than with it, though it\ncosts more labor and patience to obtain the result. To sing by common\ninspiration is far better than to have the music 'pumped out,' as is\ntoo often the case, by the uncertain movements of the leader's baton.\"\n\nWith a membership that has ranged from one hundred to two hundred\nand fifty, skilled business management is needed to keep everything\nrunning smoothly.\n\nThe record of attendance is regulated by the use of checks. Each\nmember of the chorus is assigned a number. As they come to rehearsal,\nservice, or concert, the singer removes the check on which is his\nnumber from the board upon which it hangs and gives it to the person\nappointed to receive it as he passes up the stairway to his seat\nin the choir. When the numbers are checked up at the close of the\nevening, the checks which have not been removed from the board are\nmarked \"absent.\"\n\nThe bill for sheet music for one year is something between $400 and\n$500. To care for so much music would be no light task if it were not\nreduced to a science. The music is in charge of the chorus librarian,\nwho gives to each member an envelope stamped with his number and\ncontaining all the sheet music used by the chorus. Each member is\nresponsible for his music, so that the system resolves itself into\nsimplicity itself. In the Lower Temple enclosed closets are built in\nthe wall, divided into sections, in which the envelopes are kept by\ntheir numbers, so that it is but the work of a moment to find the\nmusic for any singer. An insurance of $1,200 is carried on the music.\n\nTypical of the spirit of self-sacrifice that animates the chorus is\nthe fact that for nearly ten years after the choir was organized, one\nof the members, in order to reduce the expense for sheet music, copied\non a mimeograph all the music used by the members. It was a gigantic\ntask, but he never faltered while the need was felt.\n\nIn order to avoid confusion both in rehearsals and at each service,\nevery singer has an appointed seat. There is also a system of signals\nemployed by the organist, clearly understood and promptly responded\nto by the chorus, for rising, resuming their seats, and for any other\nduty. This regularity of movement, the precision with which the great\nchoir leads the attitudes and voices of the congregation in all the\nmusical services, the entire absence of confusion, impresses the\nthoroughness of the chorus drill upon every one, and adds greatly to\nthe effectiveness and decorum of the service.\n\nMost remarkable of all the work of the chorus, perhaps, is the fact\nthat it has not only paid its way, but it has in addition contributed\nfinancially to the help of the church. Most choral societies have to\nbe supported by guarantors, or friends or members must reach down in\ntheir pockets and make up the deficits that occur with unpleasant\nregularity. But the chorus of The Temple has borne its own expenses\nand at various times contributed to the church work.\n\nAt the annual banquet in 1905, the following statement was made of the\nfinancial history of the chorus since 1892:\n\nAmount Received--\n  Collections from members                          $ 2,564.60\n  Fines paid by members                                 975.60\n  Gross receipts from concerts                       11,299.40\n                                                     ---------\n                                                    $14,839.60\nAmount Disbursed--\n  For music                                         $ 2,167.80\n  For sundry expenses for socials, flowers for sick,\n  contributions for benevolent purposes, etc.         1,035.81\n  Expenses of concerts                                8,506.34\n  Contributions to church, college, hospital, Sunday\n  School, repairs to organ, etc.                      3,050.51\n                                                      --------\n                                                    $14,760.46\n\nThe chorus has furnished a private room in the Samaritan Hospital at a\ncost of $250, pays half the cost of the telephone service to a shut-in\nmember, so that while lying on his bed of sickness he can still hear\nthe preaching and singing of his beloved church, and has contributed\nto members in need; in fact, whatever help was required, it has come\nforward and shouldered its share of the financial burdens of the\nchurch. It is a chorus that helps by its singing in more ways than\nsinging, though that were enough.\n\nOut of the chorus has grown many smaller organizations which not only\nassist from time to time in the church and prayer meeting services,\nbut are in frequent demand by Lyceums and other churches. All the\nmoney they earn is devoted to some part of The Temple work.\n\nThe organ which rears its forest of beautiful pipes in the rear of the\nchurch is one of the finest in the country. It was built under the\ndirect supervision of Professor Wood at a cost of $10,000. The case\nis of oak in the natural finish, 35 feet wide, 35 feet high, 16 feet\ndeep. It has 41 stops, 2,133 pipes, four sets of manuals, each manual\nwith a compass of 61 notes; there are 30 pedal notes, 9 double-acting\ncombination pedals; all the metal pipes are 75 per cent pure tin.\n\nIn loving Christian fellowship the chorus abides. No difficulty that\ncould not be settled among themselves has ever rent it; no jealousies\nmar its peaceful course. Professor Wood is a wise leader. He leaves\nno loophole for the green-eyed monster to creep in. He selects no one\nvoice to take solo parts. If a solo occurs, he gives it to the whole\nof that voice in the chorus or to a professional.\n\nDr. Conwell reads the hymns with so much expression and feeling that\nnew meaning is put into them. The stranger is quietly handed a hymn\nbook by some watchful member. The organ swings into the melody of the\nhymn, the chorus, as one, rises, and a flood of song sweeps over the\nvast auditorium that carries every one as in a mighty tide almost up\nto the gates of heaven itself. And as it ebbs and sinks into silence,\nfaith has been refreshed and strengthened, hardened hearts softened,\nthe love of Christ left as a precious legacy with many a man and woman\nthere.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nSERVICES AT THE TEMPLE\n\nA Typical Sunday. The Young People's Church. Sunday School. The\nBaptismal Service. Dedication of Infants. The Pastor's Thanksgiving\nReception to Children. Sunrise Services. Watch Meeting.\n\n\nSunday is a joyous day at The Temple, and a busy one. It is crowded\nwith work and it is good to be there. Services begin at half after\nnine with prayer meetings in the Lower Temple by the Young Men's\nAssociation and the Young Women's Association. The men's is held in\nthe regular prayer meeting room; the women's in the room of their\nassociation. Each is led by some member of the association who is\nassigned a subject for the morning's study. These subjects, together\nwith the leaders' names, are prepared in advance and printed on a\nlittle schedule which is distributed among the church members, so that\nthey may know who has charge of the prayer meeting and the topic for\nthought.\n\nDr. Conwell has for twenty-two years presided at the organ in the\nmen's meeting, and usually before the services are over takes a peep\ninto the women's gathering, leaving a prayer or a brief word of cheer\nand inspiration. The meetings are not long, but they are full of\nspiritual strength. Men and women, tired with the business life of the\nweek, find them places of soul refreshment where they can step aside\nfrom the rush and press of worldly cares and commune with the higher,\nbetter things of life.\n\nBy the time the prayer meetings are over, the members of the chorus\nare thronging the Lower Temple, receiving their music and attendance\nchecks, waiting for the signal to march to their seats in the church\nabove.\n\nThe morning services begin at half after ten, with the singing of\nthe Doxology, the chanting of the Lord's Prayer by the choir and\ncongregation, followed by the sermon. At the close of the service, Dr.\nConwell steps from the pulpit and meets all strangers or friends with\na hearty handclasp and a cordial word of greeting.\n\nWhile morning service is being conducted in The Temple, a Young\nPeople's Church is held in the Lower Temple. Dr. Conwell has not\nforgotten those wearisome Sundays of his boyhood when, too young to\nappreciate the church service, he fidgeted, strove to keep awake,\nwhittled, and ended it all by thoroughly disliking church. He wants no\nsuch unhappy youngsters to sit through his preaching. He wants no such\ndislike of the church imbedded in childish hearts and minds. So he\nplanned the Young People's Church. Boys and girls between three and\nfourteen attend it, and Sunday morning the streets in the neighborhood\nof The Temple are thronged with happy-faced children on the way to\ntheir own church, the youngest in the care of parents, who are able\nlater to enjoy more fully The Temple services, since they are not\ncompelled to keep a watchful eye on a restless child.\n\nBefore the services begin, the children are very much at home. No\nstiff, silent formalism chills youthful spirits. They are as joyous\nand happy as they would be in their own homes. As the moment\napproaches for the services to begin, they take their seats and at a\ngiven signal rise and recite, \"The Lord is in His holy Temple. Let all\nthe earth keep silence before Him.\" A hush falls and then the sweet,\nchildish voices begin that beautiful psalm, \"The Lord is my shepherd,\nI shall not want,\" and without break or faltering, recite it to the\nend. Songs follow, bright, cheerful songs full of life, which they\nsing with a will. Then responsive readings and the Lord's Prayer and\nalways plenty of singing. A short talk is given by the leader, often\nsome one especially secured for the occasion, a talk not over their\nheads, but into their hearts, a talk whose meaning they can grasp and\nwhich sets young minds to thinking of the finer, nobler things of\nlife and inspires them to so live as to be good and useful. Sometimes\nlantern exhibits to illustrate special topics are given. The mere\nsight of their bright, happy faces in contrast to the dull, bored\nexpression of the usual child in church proves the wisdom of the work.\n\nThe children, as far as possible, perform all the duties of the\nservices. A small boy plays the music for their songs, two small girls\nkeep a record of the attendance, children take up the offering. But\nit is a church in more than mere services. Committees from among the\nchildren are appointed for visiting, for calling on the sick, to plan\nfor entertainments, provide the games for the socials, and to look\nafter all details of this character. There are also two officers, a\nsecretary and treasurer. An advisory committee of ladies, members of\nThe Temple, keep an oversight and guiding hand on the work of the\nchildren. The instruction is all in the hands of trained teachers,\nmostly from the college, including as Director the lady Dean of the\nCollege, Dr. Laura H. Carnell.\n\nIn the afternoon the Sunday Schools meet. The youngest children are\nenrolled in the primary or kindergarten department. This has a bright,\ncheery room of its own in the Lower Temple, with a leader and a number\nof young women scattered here and there among the children to look\nafter their needs and keep them orderly. Hats are taken off and hung\non pegs on the wall and the youngsters are made to feel very much at\nhome.\n\nOne of the prettiest features of the service in this department is\nthe offering of the birthday pennies. All the members who have had a\nbirthday during the week come forward to put a penny for each year\ninto the basket. Then the class stands up and recites a verse and\nsings a song on birthdays. Very pretty and inspiring both verse and\nsong are, and then the honored ones return to their seats, wishing, no\ndoubt, they had a birthday every week.\n\nThe taking of the offering is also a pretty ceremony. Verses on giving\nare recited by the children, then one small child takes his stand in\nthe doorway, holding the basket, and the children all march by and\ndrop in their pennies.\n\nThe intermediate department claims the next oldest children. It is\nled by an orchestra composed of members of the Sunday School, and the\nsinging is joyous and spirited. The superintendent walks around among\nthe scholars during the opening exercises, smiling, encouraging,\ngiving a word of praise, urging them to do better. The fresh, clear\nvoices rise clear and strong. Outside, on Broad Street, people stop to\nlisten. Men lean up against the windows and drink in the melody. No\none knows what messages of peace and salvation those songs carry out\nto the throng on the city street.\n\nThe classes of the senior department meet in the various rooms of the\ncollege, and the adult class in the auditorium of The Temple. This Dr.\nConwell conducted himself for a number of years, until pressure of\nwork compelled him to use these hours for rest. A popular feature of\nhis service was the question box, in which he answered any question\nsent to him on any subject connected with religious life or experience\nor Christian ethics in everyday life. The questions could be sent by\nmail or handed to him on the platform by the ushers. They were most\ninteresting, and the service attracted men and women from all parts of\nthe city. The following was one of the questions, during the year of\nbuilding the college:\n\n\"Five thousand dollars are due next week, and $15,000 next month. Will\nyou set on foot means to raise this amount or trust wholly to God's\ndirection?\"\n\nAnd the pastor answered from the platform:\n\n\"I would trust wholly in God's direction. This is a sort of test of\nfaith, and I would make it more so in the building of the College.\nI do not know for certain now where the money is to come from next\nWednesday; I have an idea. But a few days ago I did not know at all. I\ndo not see where the $15,000 is to come from in December unless it be\nthat the Feast of Tithes will bring in $10,000 towards it; that would\nbe a marvelous sum for the people to give, but if it is necessary they\nwill give it. We are workers together with God. I have partly given\nup my lecture work this month, as the church thought it was best, but\nsuppose there should come to me from Boston, Chicago, St. Louis, or\nsome other place a call to go and lecture on the 10th or 12th\nof December, and they should offer me $500 or more--I would say\nimmediately, 'Yes, I will go'; that is God's call to help the College;\nthat would be the direction of God. Such opportunities will come to\nthose who should give this $15,000. If God intends the amount due on\nthe College to be paid (and I believe he does), he will cause the\nhearts of those who desire to help to give money toward this cause. We\ntrust entirely to God. I don't believe if I were to lie down, and the\nchurch should stop, that it would be paid. But I am sure that if we\nwork together with God, He will never fail to do as He promises, and\nHe won't ask us to do the impossible. I tell you, friends, I feel\nsure that the $5,000 will be paid next Wednesday, and I feel sure the\n$15,000 will be paid when it is due.\"\n\nIt may be interesting to know that the $5,000 was paid; and when the\n$15,000 was due in December, the money was in the treasury all ready\nfor it.\n\nFrom half after six on, there are the meetings of the various\nChristian Endeavor Societies in the Lower Temple. At half after seven\nthe evening services begin and an overflow meeting is held at the same\ntime in the Lower Temple for those who find it impossible to gain\nadmittance to the main auditorium.\n\nThe preaching service is followed by a half-hour prayer meeting in the\nLower Temple in which both congregations join, taxing its capacity\nto the utmost. It is a half hour that flies, a half hour full of\ninspiration and soul communion with the \"Spirit that moved on the\nwaters,\" a fitting crown to a day devoted to His service.\n\nAfter the solemn benediction is pronounced, a half hour more of good\nfellowship follows. The pastor meets strangers, shakes hands with\nmembers, makes a special effort to hold a few words of personal\nconversation with those who have risen for prayer. Friends and\nacquaintances greet each other, and the home life of the church comes\nto the surface. The hand of the clock creeps to eleven, sometimes\npast, before the last member reluctantly leaves.\n\nBaptism is a very frequent part of the Sunday services at The Temple,\nusually taking place in the morning. It is a beautiful, solemn\nordinance. The baptistry is a long, narrow pool, arranged to resemble\na running stream. Years ago, when Dr. Conwell was in Palestine, he was\nmuch impressed with the beauty of the river Jordan at the place where\nJesus was baptized. Always a lover of the beautiful in nature, the\npicture long remained in his memory, especially the leaves and\nblossoms that drifted on the stream. When The Temple was planned he\nthought of it and determined to give the baptismal pool as much of the\nbeauty of nature as possible.\n\nIt is fifteen feet wide, sixty feet long, and during the hour of the\nsolemn ordinance, the brook is running constantly. The sides of the\npool, the pulpit and platform, summer or winter, are banked with\nflowers, palms, moss and vines. On the surface of the water float\nblossoms, while at the back, banked with mosses and flowers, splashes\nand sparkles a little waterfall. Over all falls the soft radiance of\nan illuminated cross. It is a beautiful scene, one that never fades\nfrom the memory of the man or woman who is \"buried with Christ by\nbaptism into death,\" to be raised again in the likeness of His\nresurrection. The candidates enter at the right and pass out at\nthe left, the pastor pressing into the hands of each, some of the\nbeautiful blossoms that float on the water. During the whole service\nthe organ plays softly, the choir occasionally singing some favorite\nhymn.\n\nWhen the number of candidates is large, being on occasion as high as\none hundred and seventy-seven adults, the associate pastor assists. It\nis no unusual thing to see members of a family coming together to\nmake this public profession of their faith. Husband and wife, in many\ncases; husband, wife and children in many others; a grandmother and\ntwo grandchildren on one occasion, and on yet another, a venerable\ngray-haired nurse came with four of the family in which she had served\nfor many years, and the five entered the baptistry together.\n\n\"Among the converts,\" says one who witnessed a baptismal service,\n\"there were aged persons with their silvered hair. There were stalwart\nmen, fitted to bear burdens in the church for many years to come.\nThere were young men and maidens to grow into strong men and women\nof the future church. There were little children sweet in their\nsimplicity and pure love of the Savior, little children who were\ncarried in the arms of those who assisted, and whom Dr. Conwell\ntenderly held in his arms as he buried them with Christ.\"\n\nAnother solemn service of the church is the dedication of infants. Any\nparents who wish, may bring their child and reverently dedicate it to\nGod, solemnly promising to do all within their power to train it and\nteach it to lead a Christian life and to make a public profession of\nfaith when it has arrived at the years of discretion. The service\nreads:\n\nQUESTION.--Do you now come to the Lord's house to present your child\n(children) to the Lord? ANSWER.--We do.\n\nQUES.--Will you promise before the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,\nthat you will, so far as in you lieth, teach this child the Holy\nScriptures, and bring him (her) up in the nurture and admonition of\nthe Lord? Will you train his (her) mind to respect the services of the\nLord's House, and to live in compliance with the teachings and example\nof our Lord? When he reaches the years of understanding, will you show\nhim the necessity of repentance, explain to him the way of salvation,\nand urge upon him the necessity of conversion, Baptism, and union with\nthe visible Church of Christ? ANS.--We will.\n\nQUES.--By what name do you purpose to register him (her or them) at\nthis time? ANS.--\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Beloved_: These parents have come to the house of God at this time to\npresent this child (these children) before the Lord in imitation of\nthe presentation of the infant Jesus in the Temple as recorded by the\nEvangelist Luke, saying, \"When the days of her [Mary's] purification\naccording to the law of Moses were accomplished, they brought him\nto Jerusalem to present him to the Lord and to offer a sacrifice\naccording to that which is said in the law of the Lord, a pair of\nturtle doves or two young pigeons.\" These parents have learned from\nthe Lord Jesus himself that he desires that all the children should\ncome unto him, and that he was pleased when the little children\nwere brought unto him that he might put his hands on them and pray.\nTherefore, in obedience to the scriptures, these parents are here to\npresent this child unto the Lord Jesus in spirit, that he may take him\nup in his arms, place his spiritual hands on him and bless him.\n\nWe will turn, therefore, to the Holy Scriptures for direction, as they\nare our only rule of faith and practice, and ascertain the wishes and\ncommandments of the Lord in this matter.\n\n_I Sam. I, 26, 27, 28_:\n\nAnd Hannah said, O my Lord, as thy soul liveth, my Lord, I am the\nwoman that stood by thee here, praying unto the Lord.\n\nFor this child I prayed; and the Lord hath given me my petition which\nI asked of him;\n\nTherefore also I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he liveth he\nshall be lent to the Lord. And he worshipped the Lord there.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Mark X, 13, 14, 15_:\n\nAnd they brought young children to him, that he should touch them; and\nhis disciples rebuked those that brought them.\n\nBut when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them,\nSuffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for\nof such is the kingdom of God.\n\nVerily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God\nas a little child, he shall not enter therein.\n\nAnd he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed\nthem.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Luke XVIII, 15, 16, 17_:\n\nAnd they brought young children to him, that he should touch them; but\nwhen his disciples saw it, they rebuked them.\n\nBut Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to\ncome unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God.\n\nVerily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God\nas a little child shall in no wise enter therein.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Matt. XVIII, 2-6, 14_:\n\nAnd Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of\nthem.\n\nAnd said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as\nlittle children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.\n\nWhosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the\nsame is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.\n\nAnd whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me.\n\nBut whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me,\nit were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck,\nand that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.\n\nEven so it is not the will of your father which is in heaven, that one\nof these little ones should perish.\n\nTherefore, believing it is wise and that it is a sacred duty to\ndedicate our precious little ones to God in this solemn manner;\nbelieving that all the dear children are especially loved by Christ;\nand that when taken from this world before active, intentional\nparticipation in sin, they are saved by His merciful grace; and\nbelieving that Christ by His example, and the apostles by their direct\nteaching, reserve the sacred ordinance of baptism for repentant\nbelievers, we will now unitedly ask the Lord to accept the\nconsecration of this child (children), and to take him in His\nspiritual arms and bless him.\n\nPRAYER.\n\nHYMN.\n\nBENEDICTION.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe pastor's reception to the children Thanksgiving afternoon is a\nservice the youngsters await from one year to another. Each child is\nsupposed to bring some article to be given to Samaritan Hospital. One\nyear each child brought a potato, which in the aggregate amounted to\nseveral barrels. A writer in the \"Temple Magazine,\" describing one of\nthese services, says:\n\n\"The children came from all directions, of all sizes and in all\nconditions. One lad marched up the aisle to a front seat, and his\ngarments fluttered, flag-like, at many points as he went; others were\nevidently rich men's darlings, but all were happy, and their bright\neyes were fixed on the curtained platform, rather than on each other.\nThey came until four or five thousand of them had arrived, filling\nevery nook and corner of the Upper Temple.\"\n\n\"Then Dr. Conwell came in, made them all feel at home--they already\nwere happy--and music, songs and entertainment followed for an hour\nor more. At the close he shook hands with every happy youngster who\nsought him--and few failed to do it--gave each a cheery word and\nhearty handclasp, and then the little ones scattered, swarming along\nthe wide pavements of Broad Street till the Thanksgiving promenaders\nwondered what had broken loose and whence the swarms of merry children\ncame.\"\n\nSunrise services are held Easter and Christmas mornings at seven\no'clock. These beautiful days are ushered in by a solemn prayer\nmeeting, spiritual, uplifting, which seems to attune the day to the\nmusic of heavenly things, and to send an inspiration into it which\nglorifies every moment.\n\nAnother service very dear to the members of Grace Baptist Church is\nwatch meeting. The services begin at eight o'clock New Year's Eve\nwith a prayer meeting which continues until about half after nine. An\nintermission follows and usually a committee of young people serve\nlight refreshments for those who want them. At eleven o'clock the\nwatch meeting begins. It is a deeply spiritual meeting, opened by the\npastor with an earnest prayer for guidance in the year to come, for\nrenewed consecration to the Master's service, for a better and higher\nChristian life both as individuals and a church. Hymns follow and a\nbrief, fervid talk on the year coming and its opportunities, of the\nrecord each will write on the clean white page in the book of life\nto be turned so soon. As midnight approaches, every church member is\nasked to signify his re-dedication to God and His service by standing.\nThen the solemn question is put to others present if they do not want\nto give themselves to God, not only for the coming year, but for all\nyears. As twelve o'clock strikes, all bow in silent prayer while the\norgan, under the pastor's touch, softly breathes a sacred melody.\n\nA few minutes later the meeting adjourns, \"Happy New Years\" are\nexchanged, and the church orchestra on the iron balcony over the great\nhalf rose window on Broad Street breaks into music.\n\nSometimes an audience of a thousand people gather on the street to\nlisten to this musical sermon, preached at the parting of the ways, a\neulogy and a prophecy. A writer in the \"Philadelphia Press\" relates\nthe following incident in connection with a watch meeting service:\n\n\"For the last half hour of the old and the first half hour of the new\nyear the band played sacred melodies to the delight of not less than\na thousand people assembled on the street. Diagonally across Broad\nStreet and a short distance below the church is the residence of the\nlate James E. Cooper, P.T. Barnum's former partner, the millionaire\ncircus proprietor. He had been ailing for months and on this night he\nlay dying.\n\n\"Although not a member he had always taken a personal interest in\nGrace Church, and one of his last acts was the gift of $1,000 to the\nbuilding fund. On this night, the first on which The Temple balcony\nhad been used for its specially designed purpose, among the last of\nearthly sounds that were borne to the ears of the dying man was the\nmusic of 'Coronation' and 'Old Hundred,'--hymns that he had learned in\nchildhood. The watch meeting closed and from a scene of thanksgiving\nand congratulation Rev. Mr. Conwell hurried to the house of mourning,\nwhere he remained at the bedside of the stricken husband and father\nuntil the morning light of earth came to the living and the morning of\neternity to the dying.\"\n\nSacred music on the balcony at midnight also ushers in Christmas\nand Easter. \"On the street, long before the hour, the crowds gather\nwaiting in reverent silence for the opening of the service,\" writes\nBurdette, in \"Temple and Templars.\" \"The inspiring strains of 'the\nEnglish Te Deum,' 'Coronation,' rise on the starlit night, thrilling\nevery soul and suggesting in its triumphant measures, the lines of\nPerronet's immortal hymn made sacred by a thousand associations--'All\nhail the power of Jesus' Name.'\" \"This greeting of the Resurrection,\nas it floats out over Monument Cemetery just opposite, where sleep\nso many thousands, does seem like an assurance sent anew from above,\ncheering those who sleep in Jesus, telling them that as their Lord\nand King had risen, and now lives again, so shall they live also.\nMen looked at the graves of them that slept, listened to the song of\ntriumph that was making the midnight glorious, remembered the risen\nChrist who was the theme of the song, thought of that other midnight,\nthe riven tomb, the broken power of Death a conquered conqueror,\nand seemed to hear the Victor's proclamation as the apostle of the\nApocalypse heard it, pealing like a trumpet voice over all the earth,\n'I am the first and the last: I am He that liveth and was dead; and\nbehold, I am alive forevermore; Amen; and have the keys of hell and\ndeath!'\n\n\"The music continues, the band playing 'The Gloria,' 'The Heavens are\nTelling,' 'The Palms'; now and then the listeners join in singing as\nthe airs are more familiar, and 'What a Friend we Have In Jesus,'\n'Whiter than Snow,' 'Just as I Am,' and other hymns unite many of the\naudience on the crowded streets about The Temple in a volunteer choir,\nand when the doxology, 'Praise God from whom all blessings flow,'\ncloses the service, hundreds of voices swell the volume of melody that\ngreets the Easter morning.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nA TYPICAL PRAYER MEETING.\n\nThe Prayer Meeting Hall. How the Meeting is Conducted. The Giving of\nFavorite Bible Verses. Requests for Prayer. The Lookout Committee.\n\n\nThe prayer meetings of Grace Baptist Church are characterized by a\ncheery, homelike atmosphere that appeals forcibly and at once to any\none who may chance to enter, inclining him to stay and enjoy the\nservice, be he the utmost stranger.\n\nBut underneath this and soon felt, is the deep spiritual significance\nof the meeting, which lays hold on men's hearts, inspiring, uplifting,\nsending them home with a sense of having \"walked with God\" for a\nlittle while.\n\nThe large prayer meeting hall is usually crowded, the attendance\nincluding not only members of the church but hundreds who are not\nmembers of any church. It is no unusual sight to see all the various\nrooms of the Lower Temple thrown into one by the raising of the\nsashes, and this vast floor packed as densely as possible, while a\nfringe of standers lines the edges. People will come to these prayer\nmeetings though they cannot see the platform, though they must lose\nmuch of what is said. But the spirit of the meeting flows into their\nhearts and minds, sending them home happier, and with a strengthened\ndetermination to live a more righteous life.\n\nFrequently Dr. Conwell arrives ten or fifteen minutes before the time\nfor the service to begin. As he walks to the platform, he stops and\nchats with this one, shakes hands with another, nods to many in the\naudience. At once all stiffness and formalism vanish. It is a home, a\ngathering of brothers and sisters. It is the meeting together of two\nor three in His name, as in the old apostolic days, though these two\nor three are now counted by the hundreds.\n\nWhen Dr. Conwell thus arrives early, the time is passed in singing.\nOften he utilizes these few minutes to learn new hymns. So that when\nthe real prayer meeting is in progress, there will be no blundering\nthrough new tunes or weak-kneed renditions of them. The singing, Dr.\nConwell wants done with the spirit. He will not sing a verse if the\nheart and mind cannot endorse it. After singing several hymns in this\nearnest, prayerful fashion, every one present is fully in tune for the\nservices to follow. Prayer meeting opens with a short, earnest prayer.\nThen a hymn. It is Dr. Conwell's practice to have any one call out the\nnumber of a hymn he would like sung. And it is no unusual thing to\nhear a perfect chorus of numbers after Dr. Conwell's \"What shall we\nsing?\"\n\nA chapter from the Bible is read and a short talk on it given. Then\nDr. Conwell says, \"The meeting now is in your hands,\" and sits down as\nif he had nothing more to do with it. But that subtle leadership which\nleads without seeming to do so, is there ready to guide and direct.\nHe never allows the meeting to grow dull--though it seldom exhibits a\ntendency to do so. If no one is inclined to speak, hymns are sung. An\ninteresting feature, and one that is tremendously helpful in leading\nchurch members to take part in the prayer meeting, is the giving\nof Bible verses. It is a frequent feature of Grace Church prayer\nmeetings. \"Let us have verses of Scripture,\" or \"Each one give his\nfavorite text,\" Dr. Conwell announces. Immediately from all parts of\nthe large room come responses. Some rise to give them, others recite\nthem sitting. Hundreds are given some evenings in a short space of\ntime, sometimes the speakers giving a bit of personal experience\nconnected with the verse.\n\nThe prayer meetings are always full of singing, often of silent\nprayer; and never does one end without a solemn invitation to those\nseeking God and wishing the prayers of the church, to signify it by\nrising. While the request is made, the audience is asked to bow in\nsilent prayer that strength may be given those who want God's help\nto make it known. In the solemn hush, one after another rises to his\nfeet, often as many as fifty making this silent appeal for strength to\nlead a better life. Immediately Dr. Conwell leads into an eloquent,\nheartfelt prayer that those seeking the way may find it, that the\npeace that passeth understanding may come into their hearts and lives.\n\nBut Dr. Conwell doesn't let the matter rest here. A committee of\nchurch members already appointed for just such work, is posted like\nsentinels about the prayer meeting room, ready to extend practical\nhelp to those who have asked for the prayers of the church. After\nthe services are over, each one who has risen is sought out, by some\nmember of this committee, talked with in a friendly, sympathetic way,\nand his name and address taken. These are given to Dr. Conwell If time\npermits, he writes to many of them. All of them he makes the subject\nof personal prayer.\n\nFrequently, before asking those to rise who wish the prayers of the\nchurch, Dr. Conwell asks if any one wishes to request prayers for\nothers. The response to this is always large. A member of the staff\nof \"The Temple Magazine\" made a note at one prayer meeting of these\nrequests and published it in the magazine. Three requests were made\nfor husbands, eight for sons, one for a daughter, three for children,\nten for brothers, two for sisters, two for fathers, one for a cousin,\none for a brother-in-law, four for friends, eleven for Sunday School\nscholars, one for a Sunday School class, four for sick persons, two\nfor scoffers, twenty-one for sinners, four for wanderers, five for\npersons addicted to drink, three for mission schools, five for\nchurches--one that was divided, another deeply in debt, another for\na sick pastor and the other two seeking a higher development in\ngodliness.\n\nAs many of these requests come from church members, both pastor and\npeople pay especial attention to them and practically, as well as\nprayerfully, try to reach those for whom prayers are asked. In many\ncases distinct answers to these prayers are secured, so evident that\nnone could mistake them. At an after-service on Sunday evening a\nmother asked prayers for a wayward son in Chicago. Dr. Conwell and\nsome of the deacons led the church in prayer for the boy, very\ndefinitely and in faith. At that same hour, as the young man afterward\nrelated, he was passing a church in Chicago, and felt strangely\nimpressed to enter and give his heart to Christ. It was something he\nhad no intention of doing when he left his hotel a few minutes before.\nBut he went in, joined in the meeting, asked for forgiveness of his\nsins and the prayers of the church to help him lead a better life,\nand accepted Christ as his personal Savior. In the joy of his new\nexperience, he wrote his mother immediately.\n\nAt another prayer meeting, Dr. Conwell read a letter from a gentleman\nrequesting the prayers of the church for his little boy whom the\ndoctors had given up to die. He stated in the letter that if God would\nspare his child in answer to prayer, he would go anywhere and do\nanything the Lord might direct. After reading the letter, Dr. Conwell\nled earnestly in prayer, beseeching that the child's life might be\nsaved since it meant much for the cause of Christ on earth. Several\nmembers of the church made fervent prayers for the child, and at the\nclose of the meeting, many expressed themselves as being confident\nthat their prayers would be answered. At that same hour, the disease\nturned. The child has grown to be a young man, and with his father is\na member of Grace Church.\n\nSuch direct, unmistakable answers to prayer strengthen faith, give\nconfidence to ask for prayers for loved ones, and make it a very\nearnest, solemn part of the prayer meeting service. Thus working and\npraying, praying and working, the church marches forward.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nTHE TEMPLE COLLEGE\n\nThe Night Temple College Was Born. Its Simple Beginning and Rapid\nGrowth. Building the College. How the Money was Raised. The Branches\nit Teaches. Instances of Its Helpfulness. Planning for greater Things.\n\n\nIn a letter written to a member of his family, from which we quote the\nfollowing, Dr. Conwell tells how the idea of Temple College was born\nin his mind one wintry night.\n\n\"A woman, ragged, with an old shawl over her head, met me in an alley\nin Philadelphia late one night. She saw the basket on my arm, and\nlooked in my face wistfully, as a dog looks up beside the dinner\ntable. She was hungry, and was coming in empty. I shook my head, and\nwith a peculiarly sad glance she turned down the dark passage. I\nhad found several families hungry, and yet I felt like a hypocrite,\nstanding there with an empty basket, and a woman, perhaps a mother, so\npale for lack of decent food.\n\n\"On the corner was a church, stately and architecturally beautiful by\nday, but after midnight it looked like a glowering ogre, and looked so\nlike Newgate Prison, in London, that I felt its chilly shadow. Half\na million cost the cemented pile, and under its side arch lay two\nnewsboys or boot-blacks asleep on the step.\n\n\"What is the use? We cannot feed these people. Give all you have, and\nan army of the poor will still have nothing; and those to whom you do\ngive bread and clothes to-day will be starving and naked to-morrow.\nIf you care for the few, the many will curse you for your partiality.\nWhile I stood meditating, the police patrol drove along the street,\nand I could see by the corner street lamp that there were two women,\none little girl and a drunken old man in the conveyance, going to\njail! I could do nothing for them.\n\n\"At my door I found a man dressed in costly fashion, who had waited for\nme outside, as he had been told that I would come soon, and the family\nhad retired. He said his dying father had sent for me. So I left the\nbasket in a side yard and went with the messenger. The house was a\nmansion on Spring Garden Street. The house was inelegantly overloaded\nwith luxurious furniture, money wasted by some inartistic purchasers.\nThe paintings were rare and rich. The owners were shoddy. The family\nof seven or eight gathered by the bedside when I prayed for the dying\nold man. They were grief-stricken and begged me to stay until his soul\ndeparted. It was daylight before I left the bedside, and as the dying\nstill showed that the soul was delaying his journey, I went into the\nspacious, handsome library. Seeing a rare book in costly binding among\nthe volumes on a lower shelf, I opened the door and took it out My\nhands were black with dust. I glanced then along the rows and rows of\nvaluable books, and noticed the dust of months or years. The family\nwere not students or readers. One son was in the Albany Penitentiary;\nanother a fugitive in Canada. At the funeral, afterwards, the wife\nand daughter from Newport were present, and their tears made furrows\nthrough the paint. Those rich people were strangely poor, and a book\non a side table on the 'Abolition of Poverty' seemed to be in the\nright place.\n\n\"That night was conceived the Temple College idea. It was no new\ntruth, no original invention, but merely a simpler combination of old\nideas. There was but one general remedy for all these ills of poor and\nrich, and that could only be found in a more useful education. Poverty\nseemed to me to be wholly that of the mind. Want of food, or clothing,\nor home, or friends, or morals, or religion, seemed to be the lack of\nthe right instruction and proper discipline. The truly wise man need\nnot lack the necessities of life, the wisely educated man or woman\nwill get out of the dirty alley and will not get drunk or go to\njail. It seemed to me then that the only great charity was in giving\ninstruction.\n\n\"The first class to be considered was the destitute poor. Not one in a\nthousand of those living in rags on crusts would remain in poverty if\nhe had education enough of the right kind to earn a better living by\nmaking himself more useful. He is poor because he does not know any\nbetter. Knowledge is both wealth and power.\n\n\"The next class who stand in need of the assistance love wishes to\ngive is the great mass of industrious people of all grades, who are\nearning something, who are not cold or hungry, but who should earn\nmore in order to secure the greater necessities of life in order to be\nhappy. They could be so much more useful if they knew how. To learn\nhow to do more work in the same time, or how to do much better work,\nis the only true road to riches which the owner can enjoy.\n\n[Illustration: THE SAMARITAN HOSPITAL Showing the houses in which it\nwas originally located, and part of the new building]\n\n\"To help a man to help himself is the wisest effort of human love. To\nhave wealth and to have honestly earned it all, by labor, skill or\nwisdom, is an object of ambition worthy of the highest and best.\nHence, to do the most good to the great classes, rich or poor, we must\nlabor industriously. The lover of his kind must furnish them with the\nmeans of gaining knowledge while they work.\n\n\"Then there was a third class of mankind, starving, with their tables\nbreaking with luscious foods, cold in warehouses of ready-made\nclothing of the most costly fabrics; seeing not in the moon-light, and\nrestless to distraction on beds of eiderdown. They do not know the\nuse or value of things. They are harassed with plenty they cannot\nappropriate. They are doubly poor. They need education. The library\nis a care, an expense and a disgrace to the owner who cannot read. To\ngive education to those in the possession of property which they might\nuse for the help of humanity and which they might enjoy, is as clear a\nduty and charity as it is to help the beggar. And, indeed, indirectly\nthe education of the unwise wealthy to become useful may be the most\npractical way of raising the poor. There is a need for every dollar of\nthe nation's property, and it should be invested by men whose minds\nand hearts have been trained to see the human need and to love to\nsatisfy it.\n\n\"The thought that in education of the best quality was to be found the\nremedy for hunger, loneliness, crime and weakness was most clearly\nemphasized to my mind by the coming of two young men who had felt the\nneed from the under side. They had received but little instruction;\nthey were over twenty years of age, and they wished to enter the\nministry. Was there any way open for a poor, industrious laborer to\nget the highest education while he supported his mother, sister and\nhimself? I urged them to try it for the good of many who would\nfollow them if they made it a clear success. I was elated almost to\nuncontrollable enthusiasm the night they came to my study to begin\ntheir course. They brought five with them, and all proved themselves\nnoble men. One is not, for God took him. But the others are moulding\nand inspiring their world.\"\n\nThus was conceived the idea of the institution that is now educating\nannually three thousand men and women. The need for it has been\nplainly proven. Rev. Forest Dager, at one time Dean of Temple College,\nsaid in regard to the people who in later life crave opportunities for\nstudy:\n\n\"That the Temple College idea of educating working men and working\nwomen, at an expense just sufficient to give them an appreciation of\nthe work of the Institution, covers a wide and long-neglected field\nof educational effort, is at once apparent to a thoughtful mind.\nRemembering that out of a total enrollment in the schools of our land\nof all grades, public and private, of 14,512,778 pupils, 96-1/2 per\ncent are reported as receiving elementary instruction only; that not\nmore than 35 in 1,000 attend school after they are fourteen years of\nage; that 25 of these drop out during the next four years of their\nlife; that less than 10 in 1,000 pass on to enjoy the superior\ninstruction of a college or some equivalent grade of work, we begin\nto see the unlimited field before an Institution like this. Thousands\nupon thousands of those who have left school quite early in life,\neither because they did not appreciate the advantages of a liberal\neducation, or because the stress of circumstances compelled them to\nassist in the maintenance of home, awake a few years later to the\nrealization that a good education is more than one-half the struggle\nfor existence and position. Their time through the day is fully\noccupied; their evenings are free. At once they turn to the evening\ncollege, and grasping the opportunities for instruction, convert those\nhours which to many are the pathway to vice and ruin, into stepping\nstones to a higher and more useful career ... An illustration of the\nwide-reaching influence of the College work is the significant fact\nthat during one year there were personally known to the president,\nno less than ninety-three persons pursuing their studies in various\nuniversities of our country, who received their first impulses toward\na higher education and a wider usefulness in Temple College.\"\n\nIn 1893, in an address on the Institutional church, delivered before\nthe Baptist Ministers' Conference in Philadelphia, Dr. Conwell said:\n\n\"At the present time there are in this city hundreds of thousands--to\nspeak conservatively, (I should say at least five hundred thousand\npeople) who have not the education they certainly wish they had\nobtained before leaving school. There are at least one hundred\nthousand people in this city willing to sacrifice their evenings and\nsome of their sleep to get an education, if they can get it without\nthe humiliation of being put into classes with boys and girls six\nyears old. They are in every city. There is a large class of young\npeople who have reached that age where they find they have made a\nmistake in not getting a better education. If they could obtain one\nnow, in a proper way, they would. The university does not furnish such\nan opportunity. The public school does not.\n\n\"The churches must institute schools for those whom the public does\nnot educate, and must educate them along the lines they cannot reach\nin the public schools.\n\n\"We are not to withdraw our support from, nor to antagonize, the\npublic schools; they are the foundations of liberty in the nation. But\nthe public schools do not teach many things which young men and young\nwomen need. I believe every church should institute classes for the\neducation of such people, and I believe the Institutional church will\nrequire it. I believe every evening in the week should be given to\nsome particular kind of intellectual training along some educational\nline; that this training should begin with the more evident needs of\nthe young people in each congregation, and then be adjusted as the\nmatter grows, to the wants of each.\"\n\nSo, because one poor boy struggled so bitterly for an education,\nbecause a man, keen-eyed, saw others' needs, reading the signs by the\nlight of his own bitter experience, a great College for busy men and\nwomen has grown, to give them freely the education which is very bread\nand meat to their minds.\n\nMost people use for their own benefit the lessons they have learned in\nthe hard school of experience. They have paid for them dearly. They\nendeavor to get out of them what profit they can. Not so Dr. Conwell.\nHe uses his dearly bought experiences for the good of others, turning\nthe bitterness which he endured, into sweetness for their refreshment.\n\nThe Temple College was founded, as was stated in its first catalogue,\nfor the purpose \"of opening to the burdened and circumscribed manual\nlaborer, the doors through which he may, if he will, reach the fields\nof profitable and influential professional life.\n\n\"Of enabling the working man, whose labor has been largely with his\nmuscles, to double his skill through the helpful suggestions of a\ncultivated mind.\n\n\"Of providing such instruction as shall be best adapted to the higher\neducation of those who are compelled to labor at their trades while\nengaged in study, or who desire while studying to remain under the\ninfluence of their home or church.\n\n\"Of awakening in the character of young laboring men and women a\nstrong and determined ambition to be useful to their fellowmen.\n\n\"Of cultivating such a taste for the higher and most useful branches\nof learning as shall compel the students, after they have left the\ncollege, to continue to pursue the best and most practical branches\nof learning to the very highest walks of mental and scientific\nachievement.\"\n\nA broad, humanitarian purpose it is, one that grew out of the heart of\na man who loved humanity, who believed in the practical application of\nthe teachings of Christ, who knew a cause would succeed if it filled a\nneed.\n\nDr. Conwell's own experience, his observations of life had told\nhim that this great need existed, but it was brought home to him\npractically in 1884, when these two young men of whom he speaks in\nthe letter quoted came to him and said they wanted to study for the\nministry but had no money. His mind leaped the years to those boyhood\ndays when he longed for an education but had no money. He fixed an\nevening and told them he would teach them himself. When the night\ncame, the two had become seven. The third evening, the seven had grown\nto forty. It was in the days when pastor and people were working hard\nfor their new church and his hands were full. But he did not shirk\nthis new task that came to him. Forty people eager to study, anxious\nto broaden their mental vision, to make their lives more useful, could\nnot be disappointed, most assuredly not by a man who had known this\nhunger of the mind. Teachers were secured who gave their services\nfree, the lower parts of the church where they were then worshipping\nat Berks and Mervine streets were used as class rooms and the work\nwent forward with vigor.\n\nThe first catalogue was issued in 1887, and the institution chartered\nin 1888, at which time there were five hundred and ninety students.\nThe College overflowed the basement of the church into two adjoining\nhouses. When The Temple was completed the College occupied the whole\nbuilding. When that was filled it moved into two large houses on Park\nAvenue. Still growing, it rented two large halls.\n\nThe news that The Temple College had enlarged quarters in these halls\nbrought such a flood of students that almost from the start applicants\nwere turned away. Nothing was to be done but to build. It was a\nserious problem. The church itself had but just been completed and a\nheavy debt of $250,000 hung over it. To add the cost of a college to\nthis burden of debt required faith of the highest order, work of the\nhardest. But God had shown them their work and they could not shirk it.\n\n\"For seven years I have felt a firm conviction that the great work,\nthe special duty of our church, is to establish the College,\" said Dr.\nConwell, in speaking of the matter to his congregation. \"We are now\nface to face with it. How distinctly we have been led of God to this\npoint! Never before in the history of this nation have a people had\ncommitted to them a movement more important for the welfare of mankind\nthan that which is now committed to your trust in connection with the\npermanent establishment of The Temple College. We step now over the\nbrink. Our feet are already in the water, and God says, 'Go on, it\nshall be dryshod for you yet'; and I say that the success of this\ninstitution means others like it in every town of five thousand\ninhabitants in the United States.\"\n\n\"One thing we have demonstrated--those who work for a living have time\nto study. Some splendid specimens of scholarship have been\ndeveloped in our work. And there are others, splendid geniuses, yet\nundiscovered, but The Temple College will bring them to the light, and\nthe world will be the richer for it. By the use of spare hours--hours\nusually running to waste--great things can be done. The commendation\nof these successful students will do more for the college than any\nnumber of rich friends can do. It will make friends; it will bring\nmoney; it will win honor; it will secure success.\"\n\nAn investment fund was created and once more the people made their\nofferings. The same self-sacrificing spirit was evident as in the\nbuilding of the church. One boy brought to the pastor fifty cents, the\nfirst money he had ever earned; a woman sent to the treasury a gold\nring, the only gift she could make, which bore interest in the\nsuggestion that all who chose might offer similar gifts as did the\nwomen in the day of Moses. A business man hearing of this said, \"If a\nday is appointed, I will on that day give to the College all the gold\nand silver that comes into my store for purchases.\" Every organization\nof Grace Church contributed time, work, money, and prayer to the\nbuilding of the College. Small wonder then that obligations were met\nand payments made promptly.\n\nOne of the most successful methods by which money was raised for\nthe College was the \"Penny Talent\" effort in 1893. Burdette, in his\n\"Temple and Templars\" has made a most painstaking record of the\nvarious ways in which the talent was used. He says:\n\n\"Each worker was given a penny, no more. Four thousand were given out\nat one service. One man put his penny in a neat box, took it to his\noffice, and exhibited his 'talent' at a nickel a 'peep.' He gained\n$1.70 the first day of his 'show,' A woman bought a 'job lot' of\nmolasses with her penny, made it into molasses candy, sold it in\nsquare inch cakes, after telling the customer her story; payments were\ngenerous and she netted $1.80. Then the man who sold her the molasses\nreturned her penny. Another sister established a 'cooky' business,\nwhich grew rapidly. One boy kept his penny and went to work, earned 50\ncents, the first money he ever earned in his life. It was a big penny,\nbut he was bubbling over with enthusiasm and in it all went; he\nbrought it straight to his pastor. One worker collected autographs\nand sold them. A boy sold toothpicks. One young man made silver\nbuttonhooks and a young lady sold them. A woman traded her penny up\nto a dollar, made aprons from that time on until she earned $10. One\nclass of seven girls in the Sunday-school united its capital and gave\na supper at the Park and netted $50. The Young Men's Bible Class\nconstructed a model of the College building, which they exhibited. The\nchildren gave a supper in the Lower Temple, which added $100 to the\nCollege fund. There came into the treasury $1.00 'saved on carfares';\n'whitewashing a cellar' brought $3. Thrice, somebody walked from\nGermantown to The Temple and back, saving 75 cents; a wife saved $20\nfrom household allowances. A little girl of seven years went into a\nlively brokerage business with her penny, and took several 'flyers'\nthat netted her handsome margins. Here is her report--\n\n\"'Sold the \"talent penny\" to Aunt Libby for seven cents; sold the\nseven cents to Mamma for 25 cents; sold the 25 cents to Papa for 50\ncents. Aunt Caddie, 10 cents; Uncle Gilman, 5 cents; Cousin Walter, 4\ncents; cash, 25 cents,--$1.04 and the penny talent returned.'\n\n\"'Pinching the market-basket' sent in $2.50; 'all the pennies and\nnickels received in four months, $12.70'; 'walking instead of riding,\n$6.50'; 'singing and making plaster plaques, $7.' A dentist bought of\na fellow dentist one cent's worth of cement filling-material; this he\nused, giving his labor, and earned 50 cents; with this he bought 50\ncents' worth of better filling, part of which he used, again giving\nhis labor, and the College gained $3.00. A boy sold his penny to a\nphysician for a dollar. The physician sold the 'talent penny' for 10\ncents, which he exchanged at the Mint for bright new pennies. These he\ntook to business friends and got a dollar apiece for them; added $5.00\nof his own and turned in $15.00. Donations of one cent each were\nreceived through Mr. William P. Harding, from Governor Tillman of\nSouth Carolina, Governor McKinley of Ohio, Governor Russell of\nMassachusetts. From Governor Fuller of Vermont--a rare old copper\ncent, 1782, coined by Vermont before she was admitted to the Union;\nthe governors' letters were sold to the highest bidders. Everybody who\nworked, everybody who traded with the penny, did something, and every\npenny was blessed, so lovingly and so zealously was the trading done.\nIt was the Master's talent which they were working with. All the\nlittle things that went into the treasury; lead pencils, tacks, $3.00\nin one case and $5.00 in another; 'beefs liver, $14.00'--think of\nthat! How tired the boarders must have grown of liver away out on\nBroad Street--stick pins, hairpins, and the common kind that you bend\nand lose; candy, pretzels, and cookies; 'old tin cans,' wooden spoons,\npies; one man sent $50.00 as a gift because he said 'his penny had\nbrought him luck'; another found 16 pennies, which good fortune he\nascribed to the penny in his pocket.\n\n\"So in October the workers who had received their pennies in April\ncame together to show what they had done. Four thousand pennies had\nbeen given out; $6,000 came directly from the returns, and indirectly\nabout $8,000 more.\n\n\"The 'Feast of Tithes,' held in December of the same year, was a great\nfair, extending through seven week days. The displays of goods and the\nrefreshment booths were in the Lower Temple, while fine concerts and\nother entertainments were given in the auditorium. The Feast of Tithes\nnetted $5,500 for the College fund.\"\n\nThus the work progressed. No one could give large amounts, but many\ngave a little, and stone by stone the building grew. In August, 1893,\nthe corner stone of the College building was laid. Taking up the\nsilver trowel which had been used in laying the corner stone of The\nTemple, in 1889, Dr. Conwell said:\n\n\"Friends, to-day we do something more than simply lay the corner stone\nof a college building. We do an act here very simply that shows to the\nworld, and will go on testifying after we have gone to our long rest,\nthat the church of Jesus Christ is not only an institution of theory,\nbut an institution of practice. It will stand here upon this great\nand broad street and say through the coming years to all passersby,\n'Christianity means something for the good of humanity; Christianity\nmeans not only a belief in things that are good and pure and\nrighteous, but it also means an activity that shall bless those who\nneed the assistance of others.' It shall say to the rich man, 'Give\nthou of thy surplus to those who have not.' It shall say to the poor\nman, 'Make thou the most of thy opportunities and thou shalt be the\nequal of the rich.'\n\n\"Now, in the name of the people who have given for this enterprise,\nin the name of the many Christians who have prayed, and who are now\nsending up their prayers to heaven, I lay this corner stone.\"\n\nThe work went on. In May, 1894, a great congregation thronged The\nTemple to attend the dedication services of \"Temple College,\" for it\nwas in its new home; a handsome building, presenting with The Temple a\nbeautiful stone front of two hundred feet on the broad avenue which it\nfaces. Robert E. Pattison, governor of Pennsylvania, presided, saying,\nin his introductory remarks, \"Around this noble city many institutions\nhave arisen in the cause of education, but I doubt whether any of them\nwill possess a greater influence for good than Temple College.\" Bishop\nFoss, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, offered prayer. The orator\nwas Honorable Charles Emory Smith, of Philadelphia, ex-minister\nto Russia. Mr. James Johnson, the builder, gave the keys to the\narchitect, Mr. Thomas P. Lonsdale, who delivered them to the pastor of\nGrace Church and president of Temple College, remarking that \"it was\nwell these keys should be in the hands of those who already held the\nkeys to the inner temple of knowledge.\"\n\nPresident Conwell, receiving the keys, said that, \"by united effort,\npenny by penny, and dollar by dollar, every note had been paid, every\nfinancial obligation promptly met. It is a demonstration of what\npeople can do when thoroughly in earnest in a great enterprise.\"\n\nAcademies were also started in distant parts of the city for the\nbenefit of those who could not reach the college in time for classes.\nUnfortunately these academies were compelled to close on account of\nlack of funds. Many pitiful letters were received at the college\nfrom those who were thus shut out of educational advantages. One in\nparticular, poorly spelled but breathing its bitter disappointment,\nsaid that the writer (a woman) was just beginning to hope she would\nget her head above water some day. But that now she must sink again. A\nlittle light had begun to glimmer for her through the blackness, but\nthat light had been taken away. She was going down again into the\ndepth of hopeless ignorance with no one to lend a helping hand--the\ntragedy of which Carlyle wrote when he penned \"That there should\nbe one man die ignorant who is capable of knowledge, this I call a\ntragedy.\"\n\nThe College at first was entirely free, but as the attendance\nincreased, it was found necessary to charge a nominal tuition fee in\norder to keep out those who had no serious desire to study, but came\nirregularly \"just for the fun of the thing.\" When it was decided to\ncharge five dollars a year for the privilege of attending the evening\nclasses, the announcement was received with the unanimous approbation\nof the students who honestly wished to study, and who more than any\nothers were hindered by the aimless element.\n\nNot only did the poor and those who were employed during the day come,\nbut before long the sons and daughters of the well-to-do were knocking\nat the doors, not for admission to the evening classes but for day\nstudy. So the day department was opened. Not only has it proved\nmost successful in its work, but it has helped the College to meet\nexpenses.\n\nThe curriculum of the College is broad. A child just able to walk can\nenter the kindergarten class in the day department and receive his\nentire schooling under the one roof, graduating with a college degree,\ntaking a special university course, or fitting himself for business.\n\nFour university courses are given--theology, law, medicine, pharmacy.\nThe Medical and Theological Departments take students to their\ngraduation and upon presentation of their diploma before the State\nBoard they are admitted to the State Examination. The Theological\nCourse, of course, graduates a man the same as any other theological\nseminary.\n\nPost-graduate courses are also given.\n\nThe college courses include--arts, science, elocution and oratory,\nbusiness, music, civil engineering, physical education. The graduates\nof the college course are admitted to the post-graduate courses of\nPennsylvania, Yale, Princeton and Harvard on their diplomas. Students\npass from any year's work of the college course to the corresponding\ncourse of other Institutions.\n\nThe preparatory courses are college preparatory, medical preparatory,\nscientific preparatory, law preparatory, an English course and a\nbusiness preparatory course. Thus, if one is not ready to enter one of\nthe higher courses, he can prepare here by night study for them.\n\nThe Business Course includes a commercial course, shorthand course,\nsecretarial course, conveyancing course, telegraphy course,\nadvertisement writing and proofreading.\n\nThere are normal courses for kindergarteners and elementary teachers,\nand in household science, physical training, music, millinery,\ndressmaking, elocution and oratory.\n\nSpecial courses are given in civil engineering, chemistry, elocution\nand oratory, painting and drawing, sign writing, mechanical and\narchitectural drawing, music, physical training, dressmaking,\nmillinery, cooking, embroidery, and nursing, the last being given at\nthe Samaritan Hospital.\n\nAll of these courses, excepting the Normal Kindergarten, can be\nstudied day or evening, as best suits the student.\n\nThe kindergarten and model schools cover the work of the public\nschools from the kindergarten to the highest grammar grades, fitting\nthe student to enter the first year of the preparatory department.\nThese classes are held in the daytime only.\n\nThe power to confer degrees was granted in 1891. The teaching force\nhas been greatly enlarged until at present there are one hundred\nand thirty-five teachers and an average of more than three thousand\nregular students yearly.\n\nThe number of students instructed at Temple College in proportion to\nmoney expended and buildings used is altogether out of proportion\nto any other college in America. Some idea of the breadth of study\npresented at Temple College may be had from a comparison with\nHarvard. Harvard has more than five thousand students, four hundred\ninstructors, and presents five hundred courses of study. Its growth\nsince 1860 has been wonderful. In 1860, while one man might not have\nbeen able in four years to master all the subjects offered, he could\nhave done so in six. It was estimated in 1899 that the courses\nof study offered were so varied that sixty years would have been\nrequired. It would take one student ninety-six years to take all the\ncourses presented by the Temple College.\n\nFrom the time of the opening of Temple College up to the closing\nexercises of 1905, its students have numbered 55,656. If an answer is\ndesired to the question, \"Is such an institution needed,\" that number\nanswers is most emphatically. That more than fifty thousand people,\nthe majority of them wording men and women, will give their nights\nafter a day of toil, to study, proves that the institution that gives\nthem the opportunity to study is sorely needed.\n\nThe life story of men and women who have studied here and gone on to\nlives of usefulness would make interesting reading. One young girl who\nlived in the mill district of Kensington was earning $2.50 a week,\nfolding circulars, addressing envelopes and doing such work. Her\nparents were poor. She had the most meagre education, and the outlook\nfor her to earn more was dark. Some one advised her to go to Temple\nCollege at night and study bookkeeping. A few years after, her\nwell-wisher saw her one evening at the college, bright, happy, a\ndifferent girl in both dress and deportment She had a position as\nbookkeeper at $10 a week and was going on now and taking other\ncourses.\n\nThat is the ordinary story of the work Temple College does, multiplied\nin thousands of lives. Others are not so ordinary. One of the early\nstudents was a poor man earning $6.00 a week. To-day he is earning\n$6,000 a year in a government position at Washington, his rise in\nlife due entirely to the opportunities of study offered him at Temple\nCollege. A lady who had been brought up in refined and cultured\nsociety was compelled to support herself, her husband and child\nthrough his complete physical breakdown. She took the normal course\nin dressmaking and millinery, and has this year been appointed the\nDirector of the Domestic Science work in a large institution at a very\ngood salary, being able to keep herself and family in comfort. One of\nthe present college students was a weaver without any education at\nall, getting not only his elementary education and his preparatory\neducation here, but will next year graduate from the college\ndepartment. He has been entirely self-supporting in the meantime, and\nwill make a fine teacher of mathematics. He has been teaching extra\nclasses in the evening department of the College for several years.\n\nOne of the students who entered the classes in 1886 was a poor boy\nof thirteen. For nineteen long years he has studied persistently at\nnight, passing from one grade to another until this summer (1905) his\nlong schooling was crowned with success and he was admitted to the\nbar. All these weary years he has worked hard during the day, for\nthere were others depending upon him, and at night despite his\nphysical weariness, has faithfully pursued his studies. He deserves\nhis success and the greater success that will come to him, for such a\nman in those long years has stored away experiences that will make him\na power.\n\nAnother student in the early days of the college was a poor boy who\nhad no education whatever, having been compelled to help earn the\nfamily living as soon as he was able, his father being a drunkard. For\nfifteen years he studied, passing from one grade to another until in\n1899, he had the great joy of being ordained to the ministry, six of\nhis ministerial brethren gathering around him in the great Temple and\nlaying on his head the hands of ordination, feeling they were setting\napart to the struggles and hardships of the Gospel ministry one who\nhad shown himself worthy of his exalted calling.\n\nOne of the official stenographers connected with the Panama Canal\nCommission was a breaker boy who came to Philadelphia from the mining\ndistrict poor and ignorant, and studied in Temple College at night,\nworking during the day to earn his living.\n\nSuch records would fill a book. They prove better even than numbers\nthe worth of such an institution. If only one such man or woman is\nlifted to a happier, more useful life, the work is worth while.\n\nSuch an institution can do much for the purification of politics.\nBefore the students are ever held high ideals of right living, of\nhonesty, of purity. All the associations of the College are conducive\nto clean character and high ideals. As the largest number of the\nstudents are men and women from active business life, they are keenly\nalive to the questions of the day. They know the responsibility for\nhonest government rests with each voter, that to have clean politics\nevery man and woman must individually do his share to uphold high\nstandards in political and social life, that only men whose characters\nare above reproach should be elected to office. That the President of\ntheir college shares these views and knows also what a power lies in\ntheir hands, is shown by the following letter:\n\n\"Fraternal Greetings: The near approach of an important election leads\nme to suggest to you the following:\n\n\"First. There being now in this city over seven thousand voters who\nhave been students in the Temple College, you have by your votes\nand your influence, either by combination or as individuals, a\nconsiderable political power. You should use it for the good of your\ncity, state, and nation.\n\n\"Second. In city affairs I urge you to think first of the poor. The\nrich do not need your care. Vote only for such city candidates as will\nmost speedily secure for the more needy classes pure water, clean\nstreets, cheaper homes, cheaper and more useful education, healthier\nenvironment, cheap and quick transportation, the development of the\nlabor-giving improvements, and the increase of sea-going and inland\ncommerce. Select large-hearted, cool-headed men for city officers,\nregardless of national parties.\n\n\"Third. Let no man or party purchase your patriotic birthright for a\nfifty-cent tax bill or any other sum.\n\n\"Fourth. In selecting your candidates for state offices remember the\nneeds of the people. Favor the granting to the submerged poor a more\nfavorable opportunity to help themselves. Move in the most reasonable\nand direct way toward the ultimate abolition of the sale of\nintoxicating liquors as a beverage, and for the increase of hospital\nand college privileges for the afflicted and the ignorant.\n\n\"Fifth. In national politics, remember that both parties have a\nmeasure of truth in their principles, and the need of the time is\nnoble, conscientious lovers of humanity, who will not be led by party\nenthusiasm into any wild schemes in either direction which would\nresult in the destruction of business and the degradation of national\nhonor. Think independently, vote considerately, stand unflinchingly\nagainst any measure that is wrong, and vigorously in favor of every\nmovement that is right. This is an opportunity to do a great, good\ndeed. Quit you like men. With endearing affection,\n\n\"RUSSELL H. CONWELL.\"\n\nEven now the press of students is so great the trustees are planning\nlarger things. The \"Philadelphia Press,' speaking of the new work to\nbe undertaken, said:\n\n\"A city university, with a capacity of seven thousand students, more\nthan are attending any other one seat of learning in the United\nStates, is to be built in Philadelphia. It will be the university of\nthe Temple College and will stand on the site of the old Broad Street\nBaptist Church at the southeast corner of Broad and Brown Streets,\nand the lot adjoining the church property on the south side on Broad\nStreet.\n\n\"The new structure will cost $225,000, while the ground on which it\nwill be built is worth $165,000, making the total value of the new\ninstitution $390,000.\n\n\"Rev. Russell H. Conwell, D.D., pastor of the Grace Baptist Church,\nat Broad and Berks Streets, and President of Temple College, said\nyesterday that the new university will be completed and ready for\noccupancy by September, 1906. In the twenty years of its existence\nTemple College has grown as have few educational institutions in\nAmerica, until now it has more than three thousand students enrolled\nyearly.\n\n\"With the erection of the university building the institution will\nhave facilities for educating four thousand more students, or a total\nof seven thousand.\n\n\"Some idea of how the other great universities of the country compare\nwith regard to the number of students attending them with this new\nuniversity of Philadelphia is shown by the following table:\n\nName.                 Number of Students,\n\nTemple University     7,000\n\nHarvard               5,393\n\nYale                  2,995\n\nPennsylvania          2,692\n\nPrinceton             1,373\n\n\"The Temple University building will be eight stories high, at\nleast that is the plan the trustees have in mind at present, but the\nstructure will be so built that a height of two stories may be added\nat any time. It will have a frontage of 129 feet on Broad Street and\n140 feet on Brown Street. The corner property was deeded as a gift to\nTemple College by the Broad and Brown Streets Church and the College\nthen purchased the adjoining property on Broad Street. In appreciation\nof the gift the College has offered the use of the university chapel,\nwhich will be built in the building, to the Broad and Brown Streets\nChurch congregation for a place of worship.\n\n\"The university will be built of stone, and while not an elaborate\nstructure, it will be substantial and suitable in every respect and\nimposing in its very simplicity.\n\n\"In addition to the university offices there will be a large\ngymnasium, a free dispensary, departments of medicine, theology, law,\nengineering, sciences, and, in fact, all the branches of learning that\nare taught in any of the great universities. There will be a library\nand lecture room for every department, pathological and chemical\nlaboratories and a sufficient number of classrooms to preclude\ncrowding of students for the next ten or fifteen years.\n\n\"There are now one hundred and thirty-five instructors in Temple\nCollege, but when the university is opened this number will be\nincreased to three hundred.\n\n\"The present college building, which adjoins the Baptist Temple, will\ncontinue to be used, but only for the normal classes and lower grade\nof work. The building will be remodeled. The dwelling adjoining the\ncollege which has been occupied as the theological department will be\nvacated when the university is completed.\n\n\"Dr. Conwell, the father of Temple College and who in years to come\nwill be spoken of as the father of Temple University, said yesterday:\n\n\"'It will be a university for busy people, the same as the college has\nbeen a college for busy people. Our institution reaches and benefits\na class--in some respects the greatest class--of persons who want\nto study and enlarge their education, but cannot attend the other\nuniversities and colleges for financial reasons and because of their\nbusiness.\n\n\"'There's many a man and woman, young and middle-aged, who is not\nsatisfied with himself--he wants to go on farther, he wants to learn\nmore. But his daily work won't allow him to complete his education\nbecause of the inconvenient hours of the classes and lectures in\nother colleges. And he comes to Temple, as there classes are held\npractically all day and for several hours at night. The terms of the\ncourse at Temple College are reasonable, and thus many young men or\nwomen may prepare themselves for higher and more remunerative work,\nwhereas they would not feel that they could afford to pay the tuition\nfee at some other institution. The Temple University will be similar\nto the London University, a city university for busy persons.'\"\n\nThus Temple College grows because it is needed. And such an\ninstitution is needed in other cities as well as in Philadelphia. This\nis but the pioneer. It can have sister institutions wherever people\nwant to study and Christian hearts want to help.\n\nIt grows also because in the heart of one man, its founder, is the\nbitter knowledge of how sorely such an institution is needed by those\nwho want to study, and who himself works hand, heart and soul so that\nit shall never fail those who need it.\n\nSays James M. Beck, the noted lawyer: \"There have been very wealthy\nmen who, out of the abundance of their resources, have founded\ncolleges, but I can hardly recall a case where a man, without abundant\nmeans, by mere force of character and intellectual energy, has both\ncreated and maintained an institution of this size and character,'\"\n\nFar back in the dim light of the centuries, Confucius wrote, \"Give\ninstruction unto those who cannot obtain it for themselves.\" This is\nthe great and useful work the Temple College is doing and doing it\nnobly, a work that will count for untold good on future generations.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nTHE SAMARITAN HOSPITAL\n\nBeginning in Two Rooms. Growth. Number of Beds. Management. Temple\nServices Heard by Telephone. Faith and Nationality of Those Cared For.\n\n\nHis pastoral work among his church members and others of the\nneighborhood brought to Dr. Conwell's mind constantly the needs of the\nsick poor. Scarcely a week passed that some one did not come to him\nfor help for a loved one suffering from disease, but without means to\nsecure proper medical aid. Sick and poor--that is a condition which\nsums up the height of human physical suffering--the body racked with\npain, burning with fever, yet day and night battling on in misery,\nwithout medical aid, without nursing, without any of the comforts that\nrelieve pain. Nor is the sick one the only sufferer. Those who love\nhim endure the keenest mental anguish as they stand by helpless,\nunable to raise a finger for his relief because they are poor. Through\nthe deep waters of both these experiences Dr. Conwell had himself\npassed. He knew the anguish of heart of seeing loved ones suffer, of\nbeing unable to secure for them the nourishing food, the care needed\nto make them well. He knew the wretchedness of being sick and poor and\nof not knowing which way to turn for help, while quivering flesh and\nnerves called in torture for relief. His heart went out in burning\nsympathy to all such cases that came to his knowledge, and generously\nhe helped. But they were far too many for one man, big-hearted and\nopen-handed as he might be. More and more the need of a hospital in\nthat part of the city was impressed upon him. Accidents among his\nmembership were numerous, yet the nearest hospital was blocks and\nblocks away, a distance which meant precious minutes when with every\nmoment life was ebbing.\n\nHe laid the matter before his church people. Down through the\ncenturies came ringing in their ears that command, \"Heal the sick.\"\nThey knew it was Christ's work--\"Unto Him were brought all sick people\nthat were taken with divers diseases and he healed them.\"\n\nSo they decided to rent two rooms where the sick could be cared for,\nand later built a hospital for the poor, where without money and\nwithout price, the best medical aid, the tenderest nursing were at the\ncommand of those in need.\n\n\"The Hospital was founded,\" says Dr. Conwell, \"and this property\npurchased in the hope that it would do Christ's work. Not simply to\nheal for the sake of professional experience, not simply to cure\ndisease and repair broken bones, but to so do those charitable acts as\nto enforce the truth Jesus taught, that God 'would not that any should\nperish, but that all should come unto Him and live.' Soul and body,\nboth need the healing balm of Christianity. The Hospital modestly\nand touchingly furnishes it to all classes, creeds, and ages whose\nsufferings cause them to cry out, 'Have mercy on me!'\"\n\nSo far as buildings were concerned, it began in a small way, though\nits spirit of kindness and Christian charity was large. After one year\nin rented rooms, a house was purchased on North Broad Street, near\nOntario Street, and fitted up as a hospital with wards, operating room\nand dispensary. It was situated just where a network of railroads\nfocuses and near a number of large factories and machine shops, where\naccidents were occurring constantly. Almost immediately its wards were\nfilled. The name \"Samaritan Hospital\" was given as typical of its work\nand spirit, its projectors and supporters laying down their money and\nagreeing to pay whatever might be needed, as well as giving of their\npersonal care and attention to the sufferer. But though Dr. Conwell's\nheart is big, his head is practical. He does not believe in\nindiscriminate charity.\n\n\"Charity is composed of sympathy and self-sacrifice. There is no\ncharity without a union of these two,\" he said, in an address years\nago at Music Hall, Boston. \"To make a gift become a charity the\nrecipient must feel that it is given out of sympathy; that the\ndonor has made a sacrifice to give it; that it is intended only as\nassistance and not as a permanent support, unless the needy one he\nhelpless; and that it is not given as his right. To accomplish this\nend desired by charitable hearts demands an acquaintance with the\npersons to be assisted or a study of them, and a great degree of\ncaution and patience. It is not only unnecessary, but a positive wrong\nto give to itinerant beggars. There is no such thing as charity about\na so-called state charity. It is statesmanship to rid the community of\nnuisances, to feed the poor and prevent stealing and robbery, but it\nshould not be called 'a charity.' The paupers take their provision as\ntheir right, feel no gratitude, acquire no ambition, no industry, no\nculture. The state almshouse educates the brain and chills the heart.\nIt fastens a stigma on the child to hinder and curse it for life. Any\ninstitution supported otherwise than by voluntary contribution, or\nin the hands of paid public officials, can never have the spirit of\ncharity nor be correctly called a charity. Boston's public charitable\ninstitutions, so called, are not charities at all; the motive is not\nsympathy, but necessity. The money for the support of paupers is not\npaid with benevolent intentions by the tax-payers, nor do the inmates\nof almshouses so receive it. I have been engaged in gathering\nstatistics, and have found sixty-three per cent of all persons who\napplied for assistance at the various institutions were impostors,\nwhile many were swindlers and professional burglars.\"\n\nThe sick poor are never turned away from Samaritan Hospital, but those\nwho are able to pay are requested to do so. Dr. Conwell believes\nit would be a wrong to treat such people free, an injustice to\nphysicians, as well as an encouragement of a wrong spirit in\nthemselves. The hospital has a number of private rooms in which\npatients are received for pay. Many have been furnished by members of\nGrace Baptist Church in memory of some loved one \"gone before,\" or by\nSunday School classes or church organizations.\n\nIt may have been the fact that it started in an ordinary house that\ngave the Hospital its cheery, homelike atmosphere. It may have been\nthe spirit of the workers. But its homelike air is noticeable. While\nrules are strictly enforced, as they must be, there is a feeling of\npersonal interest in each patient that makes the sick feel that she is\nsomething more than a \"case\" or a \"number.\"\n\n\"The lovely Christ spirit,\" says Dr. Conwell, \"which inclines men and\nwomen to care for their unfortunate fellowmen, is especially beautiful\nwhen in addition to the healing of wounds and disease, the afflicted\nsufferers are welcomed to such a home as the Samaritan Hospital has\nbecome. All such kind deeds become doubly sweet when done in the name\nof Christ, because they carry with them sympathy for those in pain,\nlove for the loveless, a home for the homeless, friendship for the\nfriendless, and a divine solace, which are often more than surgical\nskill or medical science. Such an institution the Samaritan Hospital\nis ever to be. It began in weakness and inexperience, but with\nChristian devotion and affection, its founders and supporters have\nconquered innumerable difficulties, and can now say unreservedly that\nthey have a hospital with all the conveniences and all the influences\nof a Christian home.\"\n\nThe hospital was opened February 1, 1892. It did not take long to\nprove the need of the work. Before the year was out it was so crowded\nthat an addition had to be built, and now magnificent buildings stand\nadjoining the original \"house\" as a monument to the untiring work\nand zeal of Grace Church members and their friends. It is now an\nindependent corporation.\n\nThe hospital is fitted with all modern appliances for caring for the\nsick. It has a hundred and seventy beds, and a large and competent\nstaff of physicians numbering many of the best in the city. There is\nalso a training school for nurses, the original hospital building\nbeing now fitted up and furnished as a nurses' home. More than five\nthousand different cases are ministered to during the year in the beds\nand dispensary. The annual expense of running the hospital is more\nthan forty thousand dollars, the value of the property more than three\nhundred thousand dollars.\n\nIn addition to the customary weekly visiting days, visitors are\nallowed on one evening during the week and on Sunday afternoons. These\nrather unusual visiting hours are an innovation of Dr. Conwell's for\nthe benefit of busy workers who cannot visit their sick friends or\nrelatives on week days.\n\nA novel feature of the hospital and one which brings great pleasure to\nthe patients, is the telephone service connecting it with The Temple,\nwhereby those who are able, can hear the preaching of the pastor\nSunday morning and evening at the big church farther down Broad\nStreet.\n\nOne of the most efficient aids in the hospital's growth has been\nthe Board of Lady Managers. When the hospital was opened in 1892, a\ncommittee of six ladies was appointed by Mr. Conwell to take charge of\nthe housekeeping affairs, and from this committee has grown this Board\nwhich has done so much to aid the hospital, both by raising money and\nlooking after its household affairs.\n\nThis committee had entire charge of the house department, visiting it\nweekly, inspecting the house, and making suggestions to the trustees\nfor improving the work in that department.\n\nThe Board is divided into Finance, Visiting, Flower, Linen, Ward\nSupplies, House Supplies and Sewing Committee. The chairman of these\ncommittees, together with the five officers, constitute the Executive\nCommittee, and meet with the trustees at their regular monthly\nmeetings.\n\nIn addition to paying the housekeeping bills, the board has come many\ntimes to the assistance of the trustees, and by giving entertainments,\nholding sales, teas, receptions, has raised large sums of money for\nspecial purposes. In connection with this Board is the Samaritan Aid\nSociety which annually contributes about three hundred new articles of\nclothing and bedding.\n\nThe Board of Trustees is composed of able, experienced business men\nwho apply their knowledge of business affairs to the conduct of the\nhospital. It means a sacrifice of much time on their part, but it is\ncheerfully given.\n\nThe hospital is non-sectarian. Suffering and need are the only\nrequisites for admission. During the past year among those who were\ncared for were:\n\nCatholic       284\nBaptist        134\nMethodist      141\nEpiscopalian   112\nLutheran        97\nPresbyterian    96\nHebrew          89\nProtestant      54\nReformed        25\nFriends         12\nConfucianism     5\nCongregational   4\nUnited Brethren  3\nEvangelist       3\nChristian        2\nNot recorded    60\n              ----\n              1141\n\n[Illustration: ATTENDING SERVICE IN BED]\n\nThe nativity of the patients showed that nearly all countries were\nrepresented--Russia, Poland, Italy, Canada, Sweden, Norway, Scotland,\nEngland, Germany, Ireland, China, Hungary, Australia, Switzerland,\nJerusalem, Roumania and Armenia.\n\nNever was the worth of its work better shown than in the terrible Ball\nPark accident, which happened in Philadelphia in 1904, when by the\ncollapsing of the grandstand hundreds were killed and injured. Without\na moment's notice, more than a hundred patients were rushed to the\nhospital and cared for. When the wards were filled, cots were placed\nin the halls, in the offices, wherever there was room, and the injured\ntenderly treated.\n\nThus from small beginnings and a great need it has steadily grown,\nsupported by contributions and upheld by the faithful work of those\nwho labor for the love of the Master. Sacrifices of time and money\nhave been freely made for it, for the people who have worked to\nsupport it are few of them rich. It still needs help, for \"the poor\nye have always with you.\" And while there are poor people and sick\npeople, Samaritan Hospital will always need the help of the more\nfortunate to aid it in its great work of relieving pain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nTHE MANNER OF THE MAN\n\nBoundless Love for Men. Utter Humility. His Simplicity and\nInformality. Keen Sense of Humor. His Unconventional Methods of Work.\nPower as a Leader. His Tremendous Faith.\n\n\nWhat of the personality of the man back of all this ceaseless work,\nthese stupendous undertakings? Much of it can be read in the work\nitself. But not all. One must know Dr. Conwell personally to realize\nthat deep, abiding love of humanity which is the wellspring of his\nlife and which shows itself in constant and innumerable acts of\nthoughtfulness and kindness for the happiness of others. He cannot see\na drunkard on the street without his heart going out in a desire to\nhelp him to a better life. He cannot see a child in tears, but that\nhe must know the trouble and mend it. From boyhood, it was one of the\nstrongest traits of his character, and when it clasped hands with a\nman's love of Christ, it became the ruling passion of his life. The\nwoes of humanity touch him deeply. He freely gives himself, his time,\nhis money to lighten them. But he knows that to do his best, is but\ncomparatively little. To him it is a pitiful thing that so much of the\nworld's, misery cannot be relieved because of the lack of money; that\npeople must starve, must suffer pain and disease, must go without the\neducation that makes life brighter and happier, simply for the want of\nthis one thing of so little worth compared with the great things of\nlife it has the power to withhold or grant.\n\nOne must also be intimately associated with Dr. Conwell to realize the\ndeep humility that rules his heart, that makes him firmly believe any\nman who will trust in God and go ahead in faith can accomplish all\nthat he himself has done, and more.\n\n\"You do not know what a struggle my life is,\" he said once to a\nfriend. \"Only God and my own heart know how far short I come of what I\nought to be, and how often I mar the use He would make of me even when\nI would serve Him.\"\n\nAnd again, at the Golden Jubilee services, in honor of his fiftieth\nbirthday, he said publicly what he many times says in private:\n\n\"I look back on the errors of by-gone years; my blunders; my pride;\nmy self-sufficiency; my willfulness--if God would take me up in my\nunworthiness and imperfection and lift me to such a place of happiness\nand love as this--I say, He can do it for any man.\n\n\"When I see the blunders I unintentionally make in history, in\nmathematics, in names, in rhetoric, in exegesis, and yet see that God\nuses even blunders to save men--I sink back into the humblest place\nbefore Him and say, 'If God can use such preaching as that, blunders\nand mistakes like these; if He can take them and use them for His\nglory, He can use anybody and anything.' I let out the secret of my\nlife when I tell you this: If I have succeeded at all, it has been\nwith the conscious sense that as God has used even me, so can He use\nothers. God saved me and He can save them. My very faults show me,\nthey teach me, that any person can be helped and saved.\"\n\nSpeaking of his sermons, which are taken down by a stenographer and\ntypewritten for publication in the \"Temple Review,\" he said, with\nthe utmost dejection, \"Positively they make me sick. To think that I\nshould stand up and undertake to preach when I can do no better than\nthat\"\n\nHe has ever that sense of defeat from which all great minds suffer\nwhose high ideals ever elude them.\n\nIn manner and speech, he is simple and unaffected, and approachable at\nall times. When not away from the city lecturing, he spends a certain\npart of the day in his study at the church, where any one can see\nhim on any matter which he may wish to bring to his attention. The\nante-room is thronged at the hour when it is known that he will be\nthere. People waylay him in the church corridors, and on the streets,\nso well known is his kindly heart, his attentive ear, his generous\nhand.\n\nNot only do these visitors invade the church, but they come to his\nhome. Early in the morning they are there. They await him when he\nreturns late at night. As an instance of their number, one Saturday\nafternoon late in June he had one hour free which he hoped to take for\nrest and the preparation of the next morning's sermon. During that one\nhour he had six callers, each staying until the next arrived. One of\nthese was a young man whom Dr. Conwell had never seen, a boy no more\nthan seventeen or eighteen. He had a few weeks before made a runaway\nmarriage with a girl still younger than himself. Her parents had\nindignantly taken the bride home, and the young husband came to Dr.\nConwell to ask him to seek out these parents and persuade them to let\nthe child wife return to her husband.\n\nHe has a knack of putting everybody at ease in his presence, which\nperhaps accounts for the freedom with which people, even utter\nstrangers, come to him and pour into his ear their life secrets. This\nearnest desire to help people, to make them happier and better,\nshines from his life with such force that one feels it immediately on\nentering his presence and opens one's heart to him. He helps, advises,\nand, because he is so preeminently a man of faith and believes so\nfirmly that all he has done has been accomplished by faith and\nperseverance, he inspires others with like confidence in themselves.\nThey go away encouraged, hopeful, strengthened for the work that lies\nahead of them, or for the trouble they must surmount It is little\nwonder the people throng to him for help.\n\nHis simple, informal view of life is shown in other things. During a\nsummer vacation in the Berkshires he was scheduled to lecture in one\nof the home towns. His old friends and neighbors dearly love to hear\nhim, and nearly always secure a lecture from him while he is supposed\nto be resting. Entirely forgetting the lecture, he planned a fishing\ntrip that day. Just as the fishing party was ready to start, some one\nremembered the lecture. There would not be time to go fishing,\nreturn, dress and go to the lecture town. But Dr. Conwell is a great\nfisherman, and he disliked most thoroughly to give up that fishing\ntrip. He thought about it a few minutes, and then in his informal,\nunconventional fashion, decided he would both fish and lecture. He\npacked his lecturing apparel in a suit case, tied a tub for the\naccommodation of the fish on the back of the wagon and started. All\nday he fished, happy and contented. When lecturing time drew near,\nrattling and splashing, with a tubful of fish, round-eyed and\nastonished at the violent upheavals of their usual calm abiding place,\nhe drove up to the lecture hall, changed his clothes, and at the\nappointed time appeared on the platform and delivered one of the best\nlectures that section ever heard.\n\nSome people call his methods sensational. They are not sensational\nin the sense of merely making a noise for the purpose of attracting\nattention. They are unconventional. Dr. Conwell pays no attention to\nforms if the life has gone out of them, to traditions, if their spirit\nis dead, their days of usefulness past. He lives in the present He\nsees present needs and adopts methods to fit them. No doubt, many said\nit was sensational to tear down that old church at Lexington himself.\nBut there was no money and the church must come down. The only way to\nget it down and a new one built, was to go to work. And he went to\nwork in straightforward, practical fashion. It takes courage and\nstrength of mind thus to tear down conventions and forms. But he does\nnot hesitate if he sees they are blocking the road of progress. This\ndisregard of customs, this practical common-sense way of attacking\nevil or supplying needs is seen in all his church work. And because it\nis original and unusual, it brings upon him often, a storm of adverse\ncriticism. But he never halts for that. He is willing to suffer\nmisrepresentation, even calumny, if the cause for which he is working,\nprogresses. He cares nothing for himself. He thinks only of the Master\nand the work He has committed to his hands.\n\nThough the great masses in their ignorance and poverty appeal to him\npowerfully and incite him to tremendous undertakings for their relief,\nhe does not, because his hands are so full of great things, turn\naside from opportunities to help the individual. Indeed, it is this\nreadiness to answer a personal call for help that has endeared him\nso to thousands and thousands. No matter what may he the labor or\ninconvenience to himself, he responds instantly when the appeal comes.\n\nTwo men, now members of the church, often tell the incident that led\nto their conversion. One evening they fell to discussing Dr. Conwell\nwith some young friends who were members of the church. The young men\nstoutly maintained that \"Conwell was like all the rest--in it for the\nalmighty dollar.\" The church members as stoutly asserted that he was\nactuated by motives far above such sordid consideration. But the\nmen would not yield their point and the subject was dropped. A few\nevenings later, coming out of a saloon at midnight into a blinding\nsnowstorm, they heard a man say, \"My dear child, why did you not tell\nme before that you were in need. You know I would not let you suffer.\"\n\n\"That's Conwell,\" said one of the young fellows.\n\n\"Nothing of the kind,\" replied the other. \"What's the matter with you?\nCatch him out a night like this.\"\n\n\"But I tell you that was Conwell's voice,\" said the first man. \"I know\nit. Let's follow him and see what he's doing.\"\n\nThrough the thickly falling snow, they could see the tall figure of\nDr. Conwell with a large basket on one arm and leading a little child\nby the hand. Keeping a sufficient distance behind, they followed him\nto a poor home in a little street, saw him enter, saw the light flash\nup and knew that he was living out in deed the doctrine he preached.\nSilent, they turned away. What his spoken word in The Temple could not\ndo his ministry at midnight had accomplished, and they became loyal\nand devoted members of the church.\n\nIn conversation with a street car conductor at one time, he found the\nman eager to hear of Christ and His love, but unable to give heed on\nthe car because he might be reported for inattention to his duties and\nlose his place. Dr. Conwell asked him where he took dinner, and at the\nnoon hour was there and, plainly and simply, as the man ate his lunch,\ntold what Christ's love in his heart and life would mean.\n\nSuch stories could be multiplied many times of this personal ministry\nthat seeks day and night, in season and out, to make mankind better,\nto lift it up where it may grasp eternal truth.\n\nFrancis Willard says:\n\n\"To move among the people on the common street; to meet them in the\nmarket-place on equal terms; to live among them not as saint or monk,\nbut as a brother man with brother men; to serve God not with form or\nritual, but in the free impulse of the soul; to bear the burden\nof society and relieve its needs; to carry on its multitudinous\nactivities in the city, social, commercial, political, and\nphilanthropic--this is the religion of the Son of man.\" This is the\nreligion of Dr. Conwell.\n\nAs a leader and organizer he is almost without an equal in church\nwork. He sees a need. His practical mind goes to work to plan ways to\nmeet it. He organizes the work thoroughly and carefully; he rallies\nhis workers about him and then leads them dauntlessly forward to\nsuccess. He has weathered many a fierce gale of opposition, won out in\nmany a furious storm of criticism. The greater the obstacles, the more\nbrightly does his ability as a leader shine. He seems to call up from\nsome secret storehouse reserves of enthusiasm. He gets everybody\nenergetically and cheerfully at work, and the obstacles that seemed\ninsurmountable suddenly melt away. As some one has said, \"He attempts\nthe impossible, yet finds practical ways to accomplish it\"\n\nThe way he met an unexpected demand for money during the building of\nthe church illustrates this:\n\nThe trustees had, as they thought, made provision for the renewal of a\nnote of $2,000, due Dec. 27th. Late Friday, Dec. 24th, the news came\nthat the note could not be renewed, that it must be paid Monday.\nThey had no money, nothing could be done but appeal to the people on\nSunday.\n\nBut it was not a usual Sunday. The Church, just the night before, had\nclosed a big fair for the College. Many had served at the fair tables\nalmost until the Sabbath morning was ushered in. They were tired. All\nhad given money, many even beyond what they could afford. It was,\nbesides, the day after Christmas, and if ever a man's pocketbook is\nempty, it is then. To make the outlook still drearier, the day opened\nwith a snowstorm that threatened at church time to turn into a\ndrizzling rain. Here was truly the impossible, for none of the people\nat any time could give a large sum. Yet he faced the situation\ndauntlessly, aroused his people, and by evening $2,200 had been\npledged for immediate payment, and of that $1,300 was received in cash\nthat Sunday.\n\nIn a sermon once he said:\n\n\"Last summer I rode by a locality where there had been a mill, now\npartially destroyed by a cyclone. I looked at the great engine lying\nupon its side. I looked at the wheels, at the boilers so out of place,\nthrown carelessly together. I saw pieces of iron the uses of which I\ndid not understand. I saw iron bands, bearings, braces, and shafting\nscattered about, and I found the great circular saw rusting, flat in\nthe grass. I went on my way wondering why any person should abandon so\nmany pieces of such excellent machinery, leaving good property to go\nto waste. But again, not many weeks ago, I went by that same place and\nsaw a building there, temporary in its nature, but with smoke pouring\nout of the stack and steam hissing and puffing from the exhaust pipe.\nI heard the sound of the great saw singing its song of industry; I saw\nthe teamsters hauling away great loads of lumber. The only difference\nbetween the apparently useless old lumber and scrap iron, piled\ntogether in promiscuous confusion, machinery thrown into a heap\nwithout the arrangement, and the new building with its powerful engine\nworking smoothly and swiftly for the comfort and wealth of men,\nwas that before the rebuilding, the wheels, the saw, the shafting,\nboilers, piston-rod, and fly wheel had no definite relation to each\nother. But some man picked out all these features of a complete mill\nand put them into proper relation; he adjusted shaft, boiler, and\ncogwheel, put water in the boiler and fire under it, let steam into\nthe cylinders, and moved piston-rod, wheels, and saw. There were no\nnew cogs, wheels, boilers, or saws; no new piece of machinery; there\nhas only been an intelligent spirit found to set them in their proper\nplaces and relationship.\n\n\"One great difficulty with this world, whether of the entire globe or\nthe individual church, is that it is made up of all sorts of machinery\nwhich is not adjusted; which is out of place; no fire under the\nboiler; no steam to move the machinery. There is none of the necessary\nrelationship--there can he no affinity between cold and steam,\nbetween power wasted and utility; and to overcome this difficulty is\none of the great problems of the earth to-day. The churches are very\nmuch in this condition. There are cogwheels, pulleys, belting, and\nengines in the church, but out of all useful relationship. There are\nsincere, earnest Christians, men and women, but they are adjusted\nto no power and no purpose; they have no definite relationship to\nutility. They go or come, or lie still and rust, and a vast power for\ngood is unapplied. The text says \"We are ambassadors for Christ\"; that\nmeans, in the clearest terms, the greatest object of the Christian\nteacher and worker should be the bringing into right relations all the\nforces of men, and gearing them to the power of Christ\"\n\nHe undoubtedly understands bringing men together, and getting them\nat work to secure almost marvelous results. A friend speaking of his\nability once said: \"I admire Mr. Conwell for the power of which he is\npossessed of reaching out and getting hold of men and grappling them\nto himself with hooks of steel.\n\n\"I admire him not only for the power he has of binding men not only\nto himself, but of binding men to Christ, and of binding them to one\nanother; for the power he has of generating enthusiasm. His people\nare bound not only to the church, to the pastor, to God, but to one\nanother.\"\n\nHe never fails to appreciate the spirit with which a church member\nworks, even if results are not always as anticipated, or even if the\nproject itself is not always practical. He will cheerfully put his\nhand down into his pocket and pay the bill for some impractical\nscheme, rather than dampen the ardor of an enthusiastic worker. He\nknows that experience will come with practice, but that a willing,\nzealous worker is above price.\n\nThose who know him most intimately find in him, despite his strong,\npractical common sense, despite his years of hard work in the world,\ndespite the many times he has been deceived and imposed upon, a\ncertain boyish simplicity and guilelessness of heart, a touch of the\npoetic, idealistic temperament that sees gold where there is only\nbrass; that hopes and believes, where reason for hope and belief\nthere is none. It is a winning trait that endears friends to him\nmost closely, that makes them cheerfully overlook such imprudent\nbenefactions as may result from it, though he himself holds it with\na strong rein, and only reveals that side of his nature to those who\nknow him best.\n\nHe studies constantly how he may help others, never how he may rest\nhimself. At his old home at South Worthington, Mass., he has built and\nequipped an academy for the education of the boys and girls of the\nneighborhood. He wants no boy or girl of his home locality to have\nthe bitter fight for an education that he was forced to experience.\nIt is a commodious building with class-rooms and a large public hall\nwhich is used for entertainments, for prayer meetings, harvest homes\nand all the gatherings of the nearby farming community.\n\nMany other enterprises besides those directly connected with the\nchurch grow out of Dr. Conwell's desire to be of service to mankind.\nBut like the organizations of the church, the need for them was\nstrongly felt before they took form.\n\nWhile officiating at the funeral of a fireman who had lost his life by\nthe falling walls of a burning building and who had left three small\nchildren uncared for, Dr. Conwell was impressed with the need of a\nhome for the orphans of men who risked their lives for the city's\ngood. Pondering the subject, he was called that same day to the\nbedside of a shut-in, who, while he was there, asked him if there was\nany way by which she could be of service to helpless children left\nwithout paternal care or support. She said the subject had been on her\nmind and such a work was dear to her heart. She was a gifted writer\nand wielded considerable influence and could, by her pen, do much good\nfor such a work, not only by her writings but by personal letters\nasking for contributions to establish and support an orphanage. The\ncoincidence impressed the matter still more strongly on Dr. Conwell's\nmind. But that was not the end of it. Still that same day, a lady came\nto him and asked his assistance in securing for her a position as\nmatron of an orphanage; and a woman physician came to his study\nand offered her services free, to care for orphan children in an\ninstitution for them.\n\nSuch direct leading was not to be withstood. Dr. Conwell called on a\nformer chief of police and asked his opinion as to an orphanage for\nthe children of fireman and policeman. The policeman welcomed the\nproject heartily, said he had long been thinking of that very problem,\nand that if it were started by a responsible person, several thousand\ndollars would be given by the policeman for its support. Still\nwondering if he should take such leadings as indications of a definite\nneed, Dr. Conwell went to his study, called in some of his church\nadvisers and talked the matter over. Nothing at that meeting was\ndefinitely settled, because some work interrupted it and those present\ndispersed for other duties. But as they disbanded and Dr. Conwell\nopened his mail, a check fell out for $75 from Rev. Chas. M. Sheldon,\nwhich he said in the letter accompanying it, he desired to give toward\na movement for helping needy children.\n\nDr. Conwell no longer hesitated, and the Philadelphia Orphans' Home\nSociety, of which he is president, was organized, and has done a good\nwork in caring for helpless little ones, giving its whole effort to\nsecuring permanent homes for the children and their adoption into\nlonely families.\n\nAlthough most of the money from his lectures goes to Temple College,\nhe uses a portion of it to support poor students elsewhere. He has\npaid for the education of 1,550 college students besides contributing\npartly to the education of hundreds of others. In fact, all the money\nhe makes, outside of what is required for immediate needs of his\nfamily, is given away. He cares so little for money for himself, his\nwants are so few and simple, that he seldom pays any attention as to\nwhether he has enough with him for personal use. He found once when\nstarting to lecture in New Jersey that after he had bought his ticket\nhe hadn't a cent left. Thinking, however, he would be paid when the\nlecture was over, he went on. But the lecture committee told him they\nwould send a check. Having no money to pay a hotel bill, he took the\ntrain back. Reaching Philadelphia after midnight he boarded a trolley\nand told the conductor who he was and his predicament, offering to\nsend the man the money for his fare next day. But the conductor was\nnot to be fooled, said he didn't know Dr. Conwell from Adam, and\nput him off. And Dr. Conwell walked twenty long blocks to his home,\nchuckling all the way at the humor of the situation.\n\nHe has a keen sense of humor, as his audiences know. Though the\nspiritual side of his nature is so intense, his love of fun and\nappreciation of the humorous relieves him from being solemn or\nsanctimonious. He is sunny, cheerful, ever ready at a chance meeting\nwith a smile or a joke. Children, who as a rule look upon a minister\nas a man enshrouded in solemn dignity, are delightfully surprised to\nfind in him a jolly, fun-loving comrade, a fact which has much to do\nwith the number of young people who throng Grace church and enter its\nmembership.\n\nThe closeness of his walk with God is shown in his unbounded faith,\nin the implicit reliance he has in the power of prayer. Though to the\nworld he attacks the problems confronting him with shrewd, practical\nbusiness sense, behind and underneath this, and greater than it all,\nis the earnestness with which he first seeks to know the will of God\nand the sincerity with which he consecrates himself to the work.\nChrist is to him a very near personal friend, in very truth an Elder\nBrother to whom he constantly goes for guidance and help, Whose will\nhe wants to do solely, in the current of Whose purpose he wants to\nmove. \"Men who intend to serve the Lord should consecrate themselves\nin heart-searching and prayer,\" he has said many and many a time. And\nof prayer itself he says:\n\n\"There is planted in every human heart this knowledge, namely, that\nthere is a power beyond our reach, a mysterious potency shaping the\nforces of life, which if we would win we must have in our favor. There\ncome to us all, events over which we have no control by physical or\nmental power. Is there any hope of guiding those mysterious forces?\nYes, friends, there is a way of securing them in our favor or\npreventing them from going against us. How? It is by prayer. When a\nman has done all he can do, still there is a mighty, mysterious agency\nover which he needs influence to secure success. The only way he can\nreach that is by prayer.\"\n\nHe has good reason to believe in the power of prayer, for the answers\nhe has received in some cases have seemed almost miraculous.\n\nWhen The Temple was being built, Dr. Conwell proposed that the new\npipe organ be put in to be ready for the opening service. But the\nchurch felt it would be unwise to assume such an extra burden of debt\nand voted against it. Dr. Conwell felt persuaded that the organ ought\nto go in, and spent one whole night in The Temple in prayer for\nguidance. As the result, he decided that the organ should be built.\nThe contract was given, the first payment made, but when in a few\nmonths a note of $1,500 came due, there was not a cent in the treasury\nto meet it. He knew it would be a most disastrous blow to the church\ninterests, with such a vast building project started, to have that\nnote go to protest. Yet he couldn't ask the membership to raise the\nmoney since it had voted against building the organ at that time.\nDisheartened, full of gloomy foreboding, he came Sunday morning to the\nchurch to preach. The money must be ready next morning, yet he knew\nnot which way to turn. He felt he had been acting in accordance with\nGod's will, for the decision had been made after a night of earnest\nprayer. Yet here stood a wall of Jericho before him and no divine\ndirection came as to how to make it fall. As he entered his study, his\nprivate secretary handed him a letter. He opened it, and out fell a\ncheck for $1,500 from an unknown man in Massillon, Ohio, who had once\nheard Dr. Conwell lecture and felt strangely impelled to send him\n$1,500 to use in The Temple work. Dr. Conwell prayed and rejoiced in\nan ecstasy of gratitude. Three times he broke down during the sermon.\nHis people wondered what was the matter, but said he had never\npreached more powerfully.\n\nHe is a man of prayer and a man of work. Loving, great-hearted,\nunselfish, cheery, practical, hard-working, he yet draws his greatest\ninspiration from that silent inner communion with the Master he serves\nwith such single-hearted, unfaltering devotion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nTHE MANNER OF THE MESSAGE\n\nThe Style of the Sermons. Their Subject Matter. Preaching to Help Some\nIndividual Church Member.\n\n\nIn the pulpit, Dr. Conwell is as simple and natural as he is in his\nstudy or in the home. Every part of the service is rendered with the\nheart, as well as the understanding. His reading of a chapter from the\nBible is a sermon in itself. The vast congregation follow it with as\nclose attention as they do the sermon. He seems to make every verse\nalive, to send it with new meaning into each heart. The people in it\nare real people, who have lived and suffered, who had all the hopes\nand fears of men and women of to-day. Often little explanations are\ndropped or timely, practical applications, and when it is over, if\nthat were all of the service one would be repaid for attending.\n\nThe hymns, too, are read with feeling and life. If a verse expresses a\nsentiment contrary to the church feeling, it is not sung. He will not\nhave sung what is not worthy of belief.\n\nThe sermons are full of homely, practical illustrations, drawn from\nthe experiences of everyday life. Dr. Conwell announces his text and\nbegins quite simply, sometimes with a little story to illustrate his\nthought. If Bible characters take any part in it, he makes them real\nmen and women. He pictures them so graphically, the audience sees\nthem, hears them talk, knows what they thought, how they lived. In a\nword, each hearer feels as if he had met them personally. Never again\nare they mere names. They are living, breathing men and women.\n\nDr. Conwell makes his sermons human because he touches life, the\nlife of the past, the life of the present, the lives of those in his\naudience. He makes them interesting by his word pictures. He holds\nattention by the dramatic interest he infuses into the theme. He has\nbeen called the \"Story-telling Preacher\" because his sermons are so\nfull of anecdote and illustrations. But every story not only points\na moral, but is full of the interest that fastens it on the hearer's\nmind. Children in their teens enjoy his sermons, so vivid are they, so\nfull of human, every day interest. Yet all this is but the framework\non which is reared some helpful, inspiring Biblical truth which is\nthe crown, the climax, and which because of its careful upbuilding by\nstory and homely illustration is fixed on the hearer's mind and heart\nin a way never to be forgotten. It is held there by the simple things\nof life he sees about him every day, and which, every time he sees\nthem, recall the truth he has heard preached. Dr. Thomas May Pierce,\nspeaking of Dr. Conwell's method of preaching, says:\n\n\"Spurgeon sought the masses and found them by preaching the gospel\nwith homely illustrations; Russell H. Conwell comes to Philadelphia,\nhe seeks out the masses, he finds them with his plain presentation of\nthe old, old story.\"\n\nOccasionally he paints word pictures that hold the audience\nenthralled, or when some great wrong stirs him, rises to heights of\nimpassioned oratory that bring his audience to tears. He never writes\nout his sermons. Indeed, often he has no time to give them any\npreparation whatever. Sometimes he does not choose his text until he\ncomes on the platform. Nobody regrets more than Dr. Conwell this lack\nof preparation, but so many duties press, every minute has so many\nburdens of work, that it is impossible at times to crowd in a thought\nfor the sermon. It is left for the inspiration of the moment. \"I\npreach poor sermons that other men may preach good ones,\" he remarked\nonce, meaning that so much of his time was taken up with church work\nand lecturing that he has little to give his sermons, and almost all\nof the fees from his lectures are devoted to the education of men for\nthe ministry.\n\nHis one purpose in his sermons is to bring Christ into the lives of\nhis people, to bring them some message from the word of God that will\ndo them good, make them better, lift them up spiritually to a higher\nplane. His people know he comes to them with this strong desire in his\nheart and they attend the services feeling confident that even though\nhe is poorly prepared, they will nevertheless get practical and\nspiritual help for the week.\n\nWhen he knows that some one member is struggling with a special\nproblem either in business, in the home circle, in his spiritual life,\nhe endeavors to weave into his sermon something that will help him,\nknowing that no heart is alone in its sorrow, that the burden one\nbears, others carry, and what will reach one will carry a message or\ncheer to many.\n\n\"During the building of The Temple,\" says Smith in his interesting\nlife of Dr. Conwell, \"a devoted member, who was in the bookbinding\nbusiness, walked to his office every morning and put his car-fare into\nthe building fund. Dr. Conwell made note of the sacrifice, and asked\nhimself the question, 'How can I help that man to be more prosperous?'\nHe kept him in mind, and while on a lecturing trip he visited a town\nwhere improved machines for bookbinding were employed. He called at\nthe establishment and found out all he could about the new machines.\nThe next Sunday morning, he used the new bookbinder as an illustration\nof some Scriptural truth. The result was, the church member secured\nthe machines of which his pastor had spoken, and increased his income\nmany-fold. The largest sum of money given to the building of the new\nTemple was given by that same bookbinder.\n\n\"A certain lady made soap for a fair held in the Lower Temple. Dr.\nConwell advised her to go into the soap-making business. She hesitated\nto take his advice. He visited a well known soap factory, and in one\nof his sermons described the most improved methods of soap-making as\nan illustration of some improved method of Christian work. Hearing the\nillustration used from the pulpit, the lady in question acted on the\npastor's previous advice, and started her nephew in the soap business,\nin which he has prospered.\n\n\"A certain blacksmith in Philadelphia who was a member of Grace\nChurch, but who lived in another part of the city, was advised by Dr.\nConwell to start a mission in his neighborhood. The mechanic pleaded\nignorance and his inability to acquire sufficient education to enable\nhim to do any kind of Christian work. On Sunday morning Dr. Conwell\nwove into his sermon an historical sketch of Elihu Burritt, that poor\nboy with meagre school advantages, who bound out to a blacksmith, at\nthe age of sixteen, and compelled to associate with the ignorant, yet\nlearned thirty-three languages, became a scholar and an orator of\nfame. The hesitating blacksmith, encouraged by the example of Elihu\nBurritt, took courage and went to work. He founded the mission which\nsoon grew into the Tioga Baptist Church.\"\n\nIn addition to helping his own church members, this method of\npreaching had other results. Smith gives the following instance:\n\n\"A few years ago the pastor of a small country church in Massachusetts\nresolved to try Dr. Conwell's method of imparting useful information\nthrough his illustrations, and teaching the people what they needed\nto know. Acting on Dr. Conwell's advice, he studied agricultural\nchemistry, dairy farming, and household economy. He did not become\na sensationalist and advertise to preach on these subjects, but he\nbrought in many helpful illustrations which the people recognized as\nvaluable, and soon the meeting-house was filled with eager listeners.\nAfter careful study the minister became convinced that the farmers on\nthose old worn-out farms in Western Massachusetts should go into the\ndairy business, and feed their cows on ensilage through the long New\nEngland winter. One bright morning he preached a sermon on 'Leaven,'\nand incidentally used a silo as an illustration. The preacher did not\nsacrifice his sermon to his illustration, but taught a great truth\nand set the farmers to thinking along a new line. As a result of that\nsermon one poor farmer built a silo and filled it with green corn in\nthe autumn; his cows relished the new food and repaid him splendidly\nwith milk. That farmer Is the richest man In the country to-day. This\nis only one of a great many ways in which that practical preacher\nhelped his poor, struggling parishioners by using the Conwell method.\nWhat was the spiritual result of such preaching among the country\npeople? He had a great, wide, and deep revival of religion, the first\nthe church had enjoyed for twenty-five years.\"\n\nThus Dr. Conwell weaves practical sense and spiritual truths together\nin a way that helps people for the span of life they live in this\nworld, for the eternal life beyond. He never forgets the soul and its\nneeds. That is his foremost thought. But he recognizes also that there\nis a body and that it lives in a practical world. And whenever and\nwherever he can help practically, as well as spiritually, he does it,\nrealizing that the world needs Christians who have the means as well\nas the spirit to carry forward Christ's work.\n\nSpeaking of his methods of preaching, Rev. Albert G. Lawson, D.D.,\nsays:\n\n\"He has been blessed in his ministry because of three things: He has a\ndemocratic, philosophic, philanthropic bee in his bonnet, a big one,\ntoo, and he has attempted to bring us to see that churches mean\nsomething beside fine houses and good music. There must be a\nrecognition of the fact that when a man is lost, he is lost in body as\nwell as in soul One needs, therefore, as our Lord would, to begin at\nthe foundations, the building anew of the mind with the body; and\nI bless God for the democratic, and the philosophic, and the\nphilanthropic idea which is manifest in this strong church. I hope\nthere will be enough power in it to make every Baptist minister sick\nuntil he tries to occupy the same field that Jesus Christ did in his\nlife and ministry; until every one of the churches shall recognize the\nprivilege of having Jesus Christ reshaped in the men and women near\nthem.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nTHESE BUSY LATER DAYS\n\nA Typical Week Day. A Typical Sunday. Mrs. Conwell. Back to the\nBerkshires in Summer for Rest.\n\n\nBy the record of what Dr. Conwell has accomplished may be judged how\nbusy are his days.\n\nIn early youth he learned to use his time to the best advantage.\nStudying and working on the farm, working and studying at Wilbraham\nand Yale, told him how precious is each minute. Work he must when he\nwanted to study. Study he must when he needed to work. Every minute\nbecame as carefully treasured as though it were a miser's gold. But it\nwas excellent training for the busy later days when work would press\nfrom all sides until it was distraction to know what to do first.\n\n\"Do the next thing,\" is the advice he gives his college students. It\nis undoubtedly a saving of time to take the work that lies immediately\nat hand and despatch it. But when the hand is surrounded by work in a\nscore of important forms, all clamoring for recognition, what is \"the\nnext thing\" becomes a question difficult to decide.\n\nThen it is that one must plan as carefully to use one's minutes as he\ndoes to expend one's income when expenses outrun it.\n\nHis private secretary gave the following account, in the \"Temple\nMagazine,\" of a week day and a Sunday in Dr. Conwell's life:\n\n\"No two days are alike in his work, and he has no specified hour for\ndefinite classes of calls or kinds of work.\n\n\"After breakfast he goes to his office in The Temple. Here visitors\nfrom half a dozen to twenty await him, representing a great variety of\nneeds or business.\n\n\"Visitors wait their turn in the ante-room of his study and are\nreceived by him in the order of their arrival. The importance of\nbusiness, rank or social position of the caller does not interfere\nwith this order.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHORUS OF THE BAPTIST TEMPLE]\n\n\"Throughout the whole day in the street, at the church, at the\nCollege, wherever he goes, he is beset by persons urging him for\nmoney, free lectures, to write introductions to all sorts of books,\nfor sermons, or to take up collections for indigent individuals or\nchurches. Letters reach him even from Canada, asking him to take care\nof some aunt, uncle, runaway son, or needy family, in Philadelphia.\nSometimes for days together he does not secure five minutes to attend\nto his correspondence. Personal letters which he must answer himself\noften wait for weeks before he can attend to them, although he\nendeavors, as a rule, to answer important letters on the day they\nare received. People call to request him to deliver addresses at\nthe dedication of churches, schoolhouses, colleges, flag-raisings,\ncommencements, and anniversaries, re-unions, political meetings, and\nall manner of reform movements. Authors urge him to read their work in\nmanuscript; orators without orations write to him and come to him for\naddress or sermon; applications flow in for letters of introduction\nhighly recommending entire strangers for anything they want. Agents\nfor books come to him for endorsements, with religious newspapers for\nsubscriptions and articles, and with patent medicines urging him to be\n'cured with one bottle.'\n\n\"It is well known that he was a lawyer before entering the ministry,\nand orphans, guardians, widows, and young men entering business come\nto him asking him to make wills, contracts, etc., and to give them\npoints of law concerning their undertakings. Weddings and funerals\nclaim his attention. Urgent messages to visit the sick and the dying\nand the unfortunate come to him, and these appeals are answered first\neither by himself or the associate pastor; the cries of the suffering\nmaking the most eloquent of all appeals to these two busy men.\"\n\nFrequently he comes to the church again in the afternoon to meet\nsome one by appointment. Both afternoon and evening are crowded with\nengagements to see people, to make addresses, to attend special\nmeetings of various kinds, with College and Hospital duties.\n\n\"I am expected to preside at six different meetings to-night,\" he said\nsmilingly to a friend at The Temple one evening as the membership\nbegan to stream in to look after its different lines of work.\n\nMuch, of the time during the winter he is away lecturing, but he keeps\nin constant communication with The Temple and its work. By letter,\nwire or telephone he is ready to respond to any emergency requiring\nhis advice or suggestion. These lecture trips carry him all over the\ncountry, but they are so carefully planned that with rare exceptions\nhe is in the pulpit Sunday morning. Frequently, when returning, he\nwires for his secretary to meet him part way, if from the West, at\nHarrisburg or Altoona; if from the South, at Washington or beyond. The\nsecretary brings the mail and the remaining hours of the journey are\nfilled with work, dictating letters, articles for magazines or press,\npossibly material for a book, whatever work most presses.\n\nPastoral calls in the usual sense of the term cannot be made in a\nmembership of more than three thousand. But visits to the sick, to\nthe poor, to the dying, are paid whenever the call comes. To help and\nconsole the afflicted, to point the way to Christ, is the work nearest\nand dearest to Dr. Conwell's heart and always comes first. Funerals,\ntoo, claim a large part of the pastor's time, seven in one day among\nthe Grace Church membership calling for the services of both Dr.\nConwell and his associate. Weddings are not an unimportant feature,\nsix having been one day's record at The Temple.\n\nOf his Sundays, his secretary says:\n\n\"From the time of rising until half-past eight, he gives special\nattention to the subject of the morning sermon, and usually selects\nhis text and general line of thought before sitting down to breakfast.\nAfter family prayers, he spends half an hour in his study, at home,\nexamining books and authorities in the completion of his sermon.\nSometimes he is unable to select a text until reaching The Temple. He\nhas, though rarely, made his selection after taking his place at the\npulpit.\n\n\"At nine-thirty, he is always promptly in his place at the opening of\nthe Young Men's prayer-meeting or at the Women's prayer-meeting in the\nLower Temple. At the Young Men's meeting he plays the organ and leads\nthe singing. If he takes any other part in the meeting he is very\nbrief, in talk or prayer.\n\n\"At half-past ten he goes directly to the Upper Temple, where as a\nrule he conducts all the exercises with the exception of the 'notices'\nand a prayer offered by the associate pastor, or in his absence at an\noverflow service in the Lower Temple, by the dean of the College or\nchaplain of the Hospital. The pastor meets the candidates for\nbaptism in his study before service, for conference and prayer. In\nadministering the ordinance, he is assisted by the associate pastor,\nwho leads the candidates into the baptistry.\n\n\"The pastor reads the hymns. It is his custom to preach without\nany notes whatever; rarely, a scrap of paper may lie on the desk\ncontaining memoranda or suggestions of leading thoughts, but\nfrequently even when this is the case the notes are ignored.\n\n\"A prominent--possibly the prevailing--idea in the preparation of his\nsermons is the need of individuals in his congregation. He aims to\nsay those things which will be the most helpful and inspiring to the\nunconverted seeking Christ, or to the Christian desiring to lead a\nnobler spiritual life. It may be said of nearly all his illustrations\nthat they present such a variety of spiritual teaching that different\npersons will catch from them different suggestions adapted to needs of\neach.\n\n\"The morning service closes promptly at twelve o'clock; then follows\nan informal reception for thirty minutes or it may be an hour, for\nhundreds, sometimes a thousand and more, many of them visitors from\nother cities and states, press forward to shake hands with him. This,\nDr. Conwell considers an important part of his church work, giving him\nan opportunity to meet many of the church members and extend personal\ngreetings to those whom he would have no possible opportunity to visit\nin their homes.\n\n\"He dines at one o'clock. At two, he is in The Temple; again he\nreceives more callers, and if possible makes some preparation for\nservices of the afternoon, in connection with the Sunday-school work.\nAt two-thirty, he is present at the opening of the Junior department\nof the Sunday-school in the Lower Temple, where he takes great\ninterest in the singing, which is a special feature of that\ndepartment. At three o'clock, he appears promptly on the platform in\nthe auditorium where the Adult department of the Sunday-school meets,\ngives a short exposition of the lesson for the day, and answers from\nthe Question Box. These cover a great variety of subjects, from the\nabsurdity of some crack-brained crank to the pathetic appeal of some\nneedy soul. Some of these questions may be sent in by mail during the\nweek, but the greater part of them are handed to the pastor by the\nushers. To secure an answer the question must be upon some subject\nconnected with religious life or experience, some theme of Christian\nethics in everyday life.\n\n\"When the questions are answered, the pastor returns to the Lower\nTemple, going to the Junior, Intermediate, or Kindergarten department\nto assist in the closing exercises. At the close of the Sunday-school\nsession, teachers and scholars surround him, seeking information or\nadvice concerning the school work, their Christian experience or\nperhaps to tell him their desire to unite with the church.[A]\n\n[Footnote A: Lately (1905), however, he has had to give up much of\nthis Sunday-school work on account of the need of rest.]\n\n\"As a rule, he leaves The Temple at five o'clock If he finds no\nvisitors with appeals for counsel or assistance waiting for him at his\nhome, he lies down for half an hour. Usually the visitors are there,\nand his half-hour rest is postponed until after the evening service.\n\n\"Supper at five-thirty, after which he goes to his study to prepare\nfor the evening service, selecting his subject and looking up such\nreferences as he thinks may be useful. At seven-fifteen, he is in The\nTemple again, often visiting for a few moments one of the Christian\nEndeavor societies, several of which are at that time in session in\nthe Lower Temple. At half-past seven the general service is held in\nthe auditorium. The evening sermon is published weekly in the \"Temple\nReview.\" He gives all portions of this service full attention.\n\n\"At nine o'clock this service closes, and the pastor goes once more\nto the Lower Temple, where both congregations, the 'main' and the\n'overflow' unite, so far as is possible, in a union prayer service.\nThe hall of the Lower Temple and the rooms connected with it are\nalways overcrowded at this service meeting, and many are unable to\nget within hearing of the speakers on the platform. Here Dr. Conwell\npresides at the organ and has general direction of the evangelistic\nservices, assisted by the associate pastor. As enquirers rise for\nprayers,--the prayers of God's people,--Dr. Conwell makes note of each\none, and to their great surprise recognizes them when he meets them on\nthe street or at another service, long afterward. This union meeting\nis followed by another general reception especially intended for a few\nwords of personal conversation with those who have risen for prayer\nand with strangers who are brought forward and introduced by members\nof the church. This is the most fatiguing part of the day's work and\noccupies from one hour to an hour and a half. He reaches home about\neleven o'clock and before retiring makes a careful memoranda of such\npeople as have requested him to pray for them, and such other matters\nas may require his attention during the week. He seldom gets to bed\nmuch before midnight.\"\n\nIn all the crowd and pressure of work, he is ably assisted by Mrs.\nConwell. In the early days of his ministry at Grace Church she was\nhis private secretary, but as the work grew for both of them, she was\ncompelled to give this up.\n\nShe enters into all her husband's work and plans with cheery, helpful\nenthusiasm. Yet her hands are full of her own special church work, for\nshe is a most important member of the various working associations of\nthe church, college and hospital. For many years she was treasurer of\nthe large annual fairs of The Temple, as well as being at the head of\na number of large teas and fairs held for the benefit of Samaritan\nHospital. In addition to all this church and charitable work, she\nmakes the home a happy centre of the brightest social life and a\nquiet, well-ordered retreat for the tired preacher and lecturer when\nhe needs rest.\n\nA writer in \"The Ladies' Home Journal,\" in a series of articles on\n\"Wives of Famous Pastors,\" says of Mrs. Conwell:\n\n\"Mrs. Conwell finds her greatest happiness in her husband's work, and\ngives him always her sympathy and devotion. She passes many hours at\nwork by his side when he is unable to notice her by word or look; she\nknows he delights In her presence, for he often says when writing, 'I\ncan do better if you remain.' Her whole life is wrapped up in the work\nof The Temple, and all those multitudinous enterprises connected with\nthat most successful of churches.\n\n\"She makes an ideal wife for a pastor whose work is varied and whose\ntime is as interrupted as are Mr. Conwell's work and time. On her\nhusband's lecture tours she looks well after his comfort, seeing to\nthose things which a busy and earnest man is almost sure to overlook\nand neglect. In all things he finds her his helpmeet and caretaker.\"\n\nFrom this busy life the family escape in summer to Dr. Conwell's\nboyhood home in the Berkshires. Here amid the hills he loves, with the\nbrook of his boyhood days again singing him to sleep, he rests and\nrecuperates for the coming winter's campaign.\n\nThe little farmhouse is vastly changed since those early days. Many\nadditions have been made, modern improvements added, spacious porches\nsurround it on all sides, and a green, velvety lawn dotted with\nshrubbery and flowers has replaced the rocks and stones, the sparse\ngrass of fifty years ago. If Martin and Miranda Conwell could return\nand see the little house now with its artistic furnishings, its walls\nhung with pictures from those very lands the mother read her boy\nabout, they would think miracles had indeed come to pass.\n\nIn front of the house where once flashed a little brook that \"set the\nsilences to rhyme\" is now a silvery lake framed in rich green foliage.\nUp in the hill where swayed the old hemlock with the eagle's nest for\na crown rises an observatory. From the top one gazes in summer into a\nbillowy sea of green in which the spire of the Methodist church rises\nlike a far distant white sail.\n\nIt is a happy family that gathers in the old homestead during the\nsummer days. His daughter, now Mrs. Tuttle, comes with her children,\nMr. Turtle, who is a civil engineer, joining them when his work\npermits. Dr. Conwell's son Leon, proprietor and editor of the\nSomerville (Mass.) \"Journal,\" with his wife and child, always spend as\nmuch of the summer there as possible. One vacant chair there is in the\nhappy family circle. Agnes, the only child of Dr. and Mrs. Conwell,\ndied in 1901, in her twenty-sixth year. She was the wife of Alfred\nBarker. A remarkably bright and gifted girl, clever with her pen,\ncharming in her personality, an enthusiastic and successful worker in\nthe many interests of church, college and hospital, her death was a\nsad loss to her family and friends.\n\nNot only the beauty of the place but the associations bring rest and\npeace to the tired spirit of the busy preacher and lecturer, and he\nreturns to his work refreshed, ready to take up with rekindled energy\nand enthusiasm the tasks awaiting him.\n\nThus his busy life goes on, full of unceasing work for the good of\nothers. Over his bed hangs a gold sheathed sword which to him is a\ndaily inspiration to do some deed worthy of the sacrifice which it\ntypifies. \"I look at it each morning,\" said Dr. Conwell to a friend,\n\"and pray for help to do something that day to make my life worthy of\nsuch a sacrifice.\" And each, day he prays the prayer his father prayed\nfor him in boyhood days, \"May no person be the worse because I have\nlived this day, but may some one be the better.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nAS A LECTURER\n\nHis Wide Fame as a Lecturer. Date of Entrance on Lecture Platform.\nNumber of Lectures Given. The Press on His Lectures. Some Instances of\nHow His Lectures Have Helped People. Address at Banquet to President\nMcKinley.\n\n\nIn the maze of this church, college and hospital work, Dr. Conwell\nfinds time to lecture from one hundred to two hundred and twenty-five\ntimes in a year. Indeed, he frequently leaves Philadelphia at midnight\nafter a Sunday of hard work, travels and lectures as far as Kansas and\nis back again for Friday evening prayer meeting and for his duties the\nfollowing Sunday.\n\nAs a lecturer, he is probably known to a greater number of people\nthan he is as a preacher, for his lecturing trips take him from the\nAtlantic to the Pacific. Since he began, he has delivered more than\nsix thousand lectures.\n\nHe has been on the lecture platform since the year 1862, giving on\nan average of two hundred lectures in a year. In addition, he has\naddressed many of the largest conventions in America and preaches\nweekly to an audience of more than three thousand. So that he has\nundoubtedly addressed more people in America than any man living. He\nis to-day one of the most eminent and most popular figures on the\nlecture platform of this country, the last of the galaxy of such men\nas Gough, Beecher, Chapin. \"There are but ten real American lecturers\non the American platform to-day,\" says \"Leslie's Weekly.\" \"Russell\nConwell is one of the ten and probably the most eminent.\"\n\nHis lectures, like his sermons, are full of practical help and good\nsense. They are profusely illustrated with anecdote and story that\nfasten the thought of his subject. He uses no notes, and gives his\nlecture little thought during the day. Indeed, he often does not know\nthe subject until he hears the chairman announce it. If the lecture is\nnew or one that he has not given for many years, he occasionally has a\nfew notes or a brief outline before him. But usually he is so full\nof the subject, ideas and illustrations so crowd his mind that he is\ntroubled with the wealth, rather than the dearth, of material. He\nrarely gives a lecture twice alike. The main thought, of course, is\nthe same. But new experiences suggest new illustrations, and so, no\nmatter how many times one hears it, he always hears something new.\n\"That's the third time I've heard Acres of Diamonds,\" said one\ndelighted auditor, \"and every time it grows better.\"\n\nPerhaps the best idea of his lectures can be gleaned from the press\nnotices that have appeared, though he never keeps a press notice\nhimself, nor pays any attention to the compliments that may have been\npaid him. These that have been collected at random by friends by no\nmeans cover the field of what has been said or written about him.\n\nSpeaking of a lecture in 1870, when he toured England, the London\n\"Telegraph\" says:\n\n\"The man is weirdly like his native hills. You can hear the cascades\nand the trickling streams in his tone of voice. He has a strange and\nunconscious power of so modulating his voice as to suggest the roar of\nthe tempest in rocky declivities, or the soft echo of music in distant\nvalleys. The breezy freshness and natural suggestiveness of varied\nnature in its wild state was completely fascinating. He excelled in\ndescription, and the auditor could almost hear the Niagara roll as he\ndescribed it, and listened to catch the sound of sighing pines in his\nvoice as he told of the Carolinas.\"\n\n\"The lecture was wonderful in clearness, powerful, and eloquent in\ndelivery,\" says the London \"News.\" \"The speaker made the past a living\npresent, and led the audience, unconscious of time, with him in his\nwalks and talks with famous men. When engrossed in his lecture his\nfacial expression is a study. His countenance conveys more quickly\nthan his words the thought which he is elucidating, and when he refers\nto his Maker, his face takes on an expression indescribable for its\npurity. He seems to hold the people as children stare at brilliant and\nstartling pictures.\"\n\n\"It is of no use to try to report Conwell's lectures,\" is the verdict\nof the Springfield \"Union.\" \"They are unique. Unlike anything or any\none else. Filled with good sense, brilliant with new suggestions, and\ninspiring always to noble life and deeds, they always please with\ntheir wit. The reader of his addresses does not know the full power of\nthe man.\"\n\n\"His stories are always singularly adapted to the lecturer's purpose.\nEach story is mirth-provoking. The audience chuckled, shook, swayed,\nand roared with convulsions of laughter,\" says the \"London Times.\" \"He\nhas been in the lecture field but a few years, yet he has already made\na place beside such men as Phillips, Beecher, and Chapin.\"\n\n\"The only lecturer in America,\" concludes the Philadelphia \"Times,\"\n\"who can fill a hall in this city with three thousand people at a\ndollar a ticket.\"\n\nThe most popular of all his lectures is \"Acres of Diamonds,\" which he\nhas given 3,420 times, which is printed, in part, at the end of the\nbook. But his list of lectures is a long one, including:\n\n  \"The Philosophy of History.\"\n  \"Men of the Mountains.\"\n  \"The Old and the New New England.\"\n  \"My Fallen Comrades.\"\n  \"The Dust of Our Battlefields.\"\n  \"Was it a Ghost Story?\"\n  \"The Unfortunate Chinese.\"\n  \"Three Scenes in Babylon.\"\n  \"Three Scenes from the Mount of Olives.\"\n  \"Americans in Europe.\"\n  \"General Grant's Empire.\"\n  \"Princess Elizabeth.\"\n  \"Guides.\"\n  \"Success in Life.\"\n  \"The Undiscovered.\"\n  \"The Silver Crown, or Born a King.\"\n  \"Heroism of a Private Life.\"\n  \"The Jolly Earthquake.\"\n  \"Heroes and Heroines.\"\n  \"Garibaldi, or the Power of Blind Faith.\"\n  \"The Angel's Lily.\"\n  \"The Life of Columbus.\"\n  \"Five Million Dollars for the Face of the Moon.\"\n  \"Henry Ward Beecher.\"\n  \"That Horrid Turk.\"\n  \"Cuba's Appeal to the United States.\"\n  \"Anita, the Feminine Torch.\"\n  \"Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women.\"\n\nHis lecturing tours now are confined to the United States, as his\nchurch duties will not permit him to go farther afield, but so wide is\nhis fame that a few years ago he declined an offer of $39,000 for a\nsix months' engagement In Australia. This year (1905) he received an\noffer of $50,000 for two hundred lectures in Australia and England.\n\nHe lectures, as he preaches, with the earnest desire ever uppermost\nto help some one. He never goes to a lecture engagement without a\ndefinite prayer to God that his words may be so directed as to do some\ngood to the community or to some individual. When he has delivered\n\"Acres of Diamonds,\" he frequently leaves a sum of money with the\neditor of the leading paper in the town to be given as a prize for any\none who advances the most practical idea for using waste forces in the\nneighborhood. In one Vermont town where he had lectured, the money was\nwon by a young man who after a careful study of the products of\nthe neighborhood, said he believed the lumber of that section was\nespecially adapted to the making of coffins. A sum of $2,000 was\nraised, the water power harnessed and a factory started.\n\nA man in Michigan who was on the verge of bankruptcy, having lost\nheavily in real estate speculation, heard \"Acres of Diamonds,\" and\nstarted in, as the lecture advises, right at home to rebuild his\nfortunes. Instead of giving up, he began the same business again,\nfought a plucky fight and is now president of the bank and a leading\nfinancier of the town.\n\nA poor farmer of Western Massachusetts, finding it impossible to\nmake a living on his stony place, had made up his mind to move and\nadvertised his farm for sale. He heard \"Acres of Diamonds,\" took to\nheart its lessons. \"Raise what the people about you need,\" it said to\nhim. He went into the small fruit business and is now a rich man.\n\nThe man who invented the turnout and switch system for electric cars\nreceived his suggestion from \"Acres of Diamonds.\"\n\nA baker heard \"Acres of Diamonds,\" got an idea for an improved oven\nand made thousands of dollars from it.\n\nA teacher in Montrose, Pennsylvania, was so impressed with the\npractical ideas in the now famous lecture that he determined to teach\nwhat his pupils most needed to know. Being in a farming district, he\nadded agricultural chemistry to their studies with such success that\nthe next year he was elected principal of one of the Montrose schools\nand shortly afterward was appointed Superintendent of Education and\nPresident of the State University of Ohio.\n\nBut incidents by the hundreds could be related or practical, helpful\nresults that flow from Dr. Conwell's lectures.\n\nThere is yet another side of their helpfulness that the world knows\nlittle about. In his early lecturing days, he resolved to give his\nlecture fees to the education of poor boys and faithfully through all\nthese years has that resolve been kept The Redpath Lyceum Bureau has\npaid him nearly $300,000, and more than $200,000 of this has gone\ndirectly to help those poor in purse who hunger after knowledge, as he\nhimself did in those days at Wilbraham when help would have been so\nwelcome. The balance has been given to Temple College, which in itself\nis the strongest and most helpful hand ever stretched out to those\nstruggling for an education.\n\nIn addition to his lectures, he is called upon to make innumerable\naddresses at various meetings, public gatherings and conventions.\nThose who have never heard him speak may gather some idea of the\nimpression he makes by the following letter written by a gentleman\nwho attended the banquet given to President McKinley at the G.A.R.\nencampment in Philadelphia in 1899:\n\n\"At the table with the President was Russell H. Conwell, and no one\nnear me could tell me who he was. We mistook him for the new Secretary\nof War, until Secretary Root made his speech. There was a highly\nintelligent and remarkably representative audience of the nation at a\nmagnificent banquet in the hall decorated regardless of cost.\n\n\"The addresses were all specially good and made by men specially\nbefore the nation. Yet all the evening till after midnight there\nwere continuous interruptions and much noise of voices, dishes, and\nwaiters. Men at distant tables laughed out often. It was difficult to\nhear at best, the acoustics were so bad. The speakers took it as a\nmatter of course at such a 'continuous performance.' Some of the\nRepresentatives must have thought they were at home in the House at\nWashington. They listened or not, as they chose. The great hall was\nquiet only when the President gave his address, except when the\nenclosed remarks were made long after midnight, when all were worn out\nwith speeches.\n\n\"When, about the last thing, Conwell was introduced by the chairman,\nno one heard his name because of the noise at the tables. Two men\nasked me who he was. But not two minutes after he began, the place\nwas still and men craned their necks to catch his words. I never saw\nanything so magical. I know how you would have enjoyed it. Its effect\nwas a hot surprise. The revelers all worn; the people ready to go\nhome; the waiters impatient; the speech wholly extemporaneous. It was\na triumph that did honor to American oratory at its best. The applause\nwas decisive and deafening. I never heard of anything better done\nunder such circumstances.\n\n\"None of the morning papers we could get on the train mentioned either\nConwell or his great speech. Perhaps Conwell asked the reporters to\nsuppress it. I don't know as to that. But it was the first thing we\nlooked for. Not a word. There is no clue to account for that. Yet that\nis the peculiarity of this singular life: one of the most public, one\nof the most successful men, but yet one of the least discussed or\nwritten about. He was to us as visitors the great feature of that\nbanquet as a speaker, and yet wholly ignored by the press of his own\ncity. The United States Senator Penrose seemed only to know in a\ngeneral way that Conwell was a great benefactor and a powerful citizen\nand preacher. Conwell is a study. I cogitated on him all day. I was\ntold that he marched throughout the great parade in the rear rank of\nhis G.A.R. post. It is the strangest case of a private life I have\never heard mentioned. The Quakers will wake up resurrection day and\nfind out Conwell lived in Philadelphia. It is startling to think how\nmeasureless the influence of such a man is in its effect on the world.\nThrough forty years educating men, healing the sick, caring for\nchildren, then preaching to a great church, then lecturing in the\ngreat cities nearly every night, then writing biographies; and also an\naccessible counselor to such masses of young people!\"\n\nThe address referred to in the foregoing letter was taken down in\nshorthand, and was substantially as follows:\n\n\"Comrades: I feel at this moment as Alexander Stephens said he felt at\nthe close of the war of 1865, and it can well be illustrated by the\nboasting athlete who declared he could throw out twenty men from a\nneighboring saloon in five minutes. He requested his friend to stand\noutside and count as he went in and threw them out. Soon a battered\nman was thrown out the door far into the street. The friend began his\ncount and shouted, 'One!' But the man in the street staggered to his\nfeet and angrily screamed, 'Stop counting! It's me!' When this feast\nopened I was proudly expecting to make a speech, but the great men who\nhave preceded me have done all and more than I intended to do. The\nhour is spent--they are sounding 'taps' at the door. I could not hope\nto hold your attention. It only remains for me to do my duty in behalf\nof Meade Post, and do it in the briefest possible space.\n\n\"Comrades of Boston and New York, you have heard the greetings\nwhen you entered the city--you have seen the gorgeous and artistic\ndecorations on halls and dwellings--you have heard the shouts of the\nmillion and more who pressed into the streets, waved handkerchiefs\nfrom the stands, and looked over each other's heads from all the\nwindows and roofs throughout that weary march. Here you see the lovely\ndecorations, the most costly feast, and listen to the heart-thrilling,\nsoul-subduing orchestra. All of these have already spoken to you an\nunmistakable message of welcome. Knowing this city as I do, I can say\nto you that not one cornet or viol, not one hymn or shout, not one\nwave in all the clouds which fair hands rolled up, not one gun of all\nthat shook the city, not one flush of red on a dear face of beauty,\nnot one blessing from the aged on his cane, not one tear on the\neyelids which glowed again as your march brought back the gleam of a\nmorning long since dead, not one clasp of the hand, not one 'God bless\nyou!' from saint or priest in all this fair city, but I believe has\nbeen deeply, earnestly, sincere.\n\n\"This repast is not the result of pride--is not arranged for gluttony\nor fashion. No political scheme inspired its proposal, and no ulterior\nmotive moved these companions to take your arm. The joy that seems to\nbeam in the comrade's eye and unconsciously express itself in word and\ngesture, is real. It is the hearty love of a comrade who showed his\nlove for his country by battle in 1862, and who only finds new ways in\ntime of peace for expressing the same character now. The eloquence of\nthis night has been unusually, earnestly, practically patriotic and\nfraternal. It has been the utterance of hearts beating full and strong\nfor humanity. Loyalty, fraternity, and charity are here in fact. It is\ntrue, honest, heart. Such fraternal greetings may be as important for\nliberty and justice as the winning of a Gettysburg. For the mighty\ninfluence of the Grand Army of the Republic is even more potent now\nthan it was on that bloody day. Peace has come and the brave men\nof the North recognize and respect the motives and bravery of that\nConfederate army which dealt them such fearful blows believing _they_\nwere in the right. But the glorious peace we enjoy and the greatness\nof our nation's name and power are due as much to the living Grand\nArmy as to the dead. I am getting weary of being counted 'old,' but I\nam more tired of hearing the soldier overpraised for what he did in\n1861. You have more influence now than then, and are better men in\nevery sense. At Springfield, Illinois, they illustrated the growth of\nthe city by telling me that in 1856 a lunatic preacher applied to Mr.\nLincoln for his aid to open the legislative chamber for a series of\nmeetings to announce that the Lord was coming at once. Mr. Lincoln\nrefused, saying, 'If the Lord knew Springfield as well as I do, he\nwouldn't come within a thousand miles of it.' But now the legislative\nhalls are open, and every good finds welcome in that city. The world\ngrows better--cities are not worse. The nation has not gone backward,\nand all the good deeds did not cease in 1865. The Grand Army of the\nRepublic, speaking plainly but with no sense of egotism, has been\npraised too much for the war and too little for its heroism and power\nin peace. Does it make a man an angel to eat hardtack? Or does it\neducate in inductive philosophy to chase a pig through a Virginia\nfence? Peace has its victories no less renowned than war.\n\n\"The Grand Army is not growing old. You all feel younger at this\nmoment than you did at the close of the day's march. Your work is not\nfinished. You were not fossilized in 1865. The war was not a nurse,\nnor was it a very thorough schoolmaster. It did serve, however, to\nshow to friends and country what kind of men America contained. Not I\nnor you perhaps can take this pleasing interpretation to ourselves,\nbut looking at the five hundred thousand men who outlived the war, we\nsee that they were the same men before the war and have remained\nthe same since the war. Their ability, friendship, patriotism, and\nreligion were better known after they had shown their faith by deeds,\nbut their identity and character were in great measure the same.\n\n\"Many of our Presidents have been taken from the ranks of the army.\nBut it would be a mockery of political wisdom to declare that a free,\nintelligent people elect a chief executive simply to reward him for\nhaving been in the war of 1861. Captain Garfield, Lieutenant Hayes,\nMajor McKinley, and General Grant were not put at the head of the\nnation as one would vote a pension. They were elected because the\npeople believed them to be the very best statesmen they could select\nfor the office. For a time every foreign consul except four was a\nsoldier. Two-thirds of Congress had been in the army. Twenty-nine\ngovernors in the same year had been in military service. Nine\npresidents of universities had been volunteers in 1863. Three thousand\npostmasters appointed in one year were from the army. Cabinet\nofficers, custom-house officers, judges, district attorneys, and\nclerks in public offices were almost exclusively selected from army\nmen. Could you look in the face of the nations and declare that with\nall our enterprise, learning, progress, and common sense, we had such\nan inadequate idea of the responsibilities of government that we\nelected men to office who were incapable, simply because they had\ncarried a gun or tripped over a sword! No, no. The shrewd Yankee and\nthe calculating Hoosier are not caught with such chaff. They selected\nthese officers as servants of the nation because the war had served to\nshow what sort of men they were.\n\n\"In short, they appointed them to high positions because they were\ntrue men. They are just as true men now. They are as patriotic, as\nindustrious, as unselfish, as brave to-day as they were in the dark\ndays of the rebellion. Their efforts are as honest now as they were\nthen, to perpetuate free institutions and maintain the honor of the\nflag.\n\n\"They have endowed colleges, built cathedrals, opened the wilderness\nto railroads, filled the American desert with roses, constructed\ntelephone, telegraph, and steamship lines. They have stood in\nclassroom and in the pulpit by the thousand; they have honored our\ncourts with their legal acumen; they have covered the plains with\ncities, and compelled the homage of Europe to secure our scholars, our\nwheat and our iron. The soldier has controlled the finances of\nbanking systems and revolutionized labor, society, and arts with his\ninventions. They saw poor Cuba, beautiful as her surf and femininely\nsweet as her luscious fruits, tortured in chains. They saw her lovely\nform through the blood that covered her, and Dewey, Sampson, Schley,\nMiles, Merritt, Sigsbee, Evans, Philip, Alger, and McKinley of the\nGrand Army led the forces to her rescue. The Philippines in the\ndarkness of half-savage life were brought unexpectedly under our\ncolors because Dewey and his commanders were in 1898 just the same\nheroes they were in 1864.\n\n\"At the bidding of Meade Post, then, I welcome you and bid you\nfarewell. This gathering was in the line of duty. Its spectacle has\nimpressed the young, inspired the strong man, and comforted the aged.\nThe fraternity here so sincerely expressed to-night will encourage us\nall to enfold the old flag more tenderly, to love our country more\ndeeply, and to go on in every path of duty, showing still the spirit\nof '61 wherever good calls for sacrifice or truth for a defender.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nAS A WRITER\n\nHis Rapid Method of Working. A Popular Biographical Writer. The Books\nHe Has Written.\n\n\nStill the minutes are not full. The man who learned five languages\nwhile going to and from his business on the street cars of Boston\nfinds time always to crowd in one thing more. Despite his multitude of\nother cares, Dr. Conwell's pen is not idle. It started to write in his\nboyhood days and it has been writing ever since.\n\nHis best known works are his biographies. Charles A. Dana, the famous\neditor and publisher of the New York \"Sun,\" just before his death,\nwrote to Harper Brothers recommending that Mr. Conwell be secured to\nwrite a series of books for an \"American Biographical Library,\" and in\nhis letter said:\n\n\"I write the above of my own notion, as I have seldom met Mr. Conwell;\nbut as a writer of biographies he has no superior. Indeed, I can say\nconsiderately, that he is one of America's greatest men. He never\nadvertises himself, never saves a newspaper clipping concerning\nhimself, never keeps a sermon of his own, and will not seek applause.\nYou must go after him if you want him. He will not apply to you. His\npersonal history is as fascinating as it is exceptional. He took\nhimself as a poor back country lad, created out of the crude material\nthe orator which often combines a Webster with Gough, and made himself\na scholar of the first rank. He created from nothing a powerful\nuniversity of high rank in Philadelphia, especially for the common\npeople. He created a great and influential church out of a small\nunknown parish. He has assisted more men in securing an education than\nany other American. He has created a hospital of the first order and\nextent. He has fed the poor and housed large numbers of orphans. He\nhas written many books and has addressed more people than any other\nliving man. To do this without writing or dictating a line to\nadvertise himself is nothing else than the victory of a great genius.\nHe is a gem worth your seeking, valuable anywhere. I say again that I\nregard Russell H. Conwell, of Philadelphia, as America's greatest man\nin the best form. I cannot do your work; he can.\"\n\nHis most successful biography, his \"Life of Charles H. Spurgeon,\" was\nwritten in a little more than two weeks. In fact, it was not written\nat all, it was dictated while on a lecturing trip. When Spurgeon died,\na publisher telegraphed Dr. Conwell if he would write a biography of\nthe great London preacher. Dr. Conwell was traveling at the time in\nthe West, lecturing. He wired an affirmative, and sent for his private\nsecretary. It was during the building of the College when great\nfinancial responsibilities were resting on him, and he was lecturing\nevery night to raise money for the college building fund. His\nsecretary accompanied him on the lecture trip. Dr. Conwell dictated\nthe book on the train during the day, the secretary copied it from his\nnotes at night while Dr. Conwell lectured. At the end of two weeks\nthe book of six hundred pages was nearly completed. It had a sale of\n125,000 copies in four months. And all the royalties were given to a\nstruggling mission of Grace Baptist Church.\n\n[Illustration: TEMPLE COLLEGE]\n\nHis biography of Elaine was written almost as rapidly. In a few hours\nafter Blaine was nominated as candidate of the Republican party for\nthe presidency. Dr. and Mrs. Conwell boarded a train and started for\nAugusta, Maine. In three weeks the book was completed.\n\nHe has worked at times from four o'clock in the morning until twelve\nat night when work pressed and time was short.\n\nHis life of Bayard Taylor was also written quickly. He had traveled\nwith Taylor through Europe and long been an intimate friend, so that\nhe was particularly well fitted for the work. The book was begun after\nTaylor's death, December 19, 1878, in Germany, and completed before\nthe body arrived in America. Five thousand copies were sold before the\nfuneral.\n\nDr. Conwell presided at the memorial service held in Tremont Temple,\nBoston. Many years after, in a sermon preached at The Temple, he thus\ndescribed the occasion:\n\n\"When Bayard Taylor, the traveler and poet, died, great sorrow was\nfelt and exhibited by the people of this nation. I remember well the\nsadness which was noticed in the city of Boston. The spontaneous\ndesire to give some expression to the respect in which Hr. Taylor's\nname was held, pressed the literary people of Boston, both writers and\nreaders, forward to a public memorial in the great hall of Tremont\nTemple. As a friend of Mr. Taylor's I was called upon to preside at\nthat memorial gathering. That audience of the scholarly classes was a\nwonderful tribute to a remarkable man, and one for which. I feel still\na keen sense of gratitude. I remember asking Mr. Longfellow to write\na poem, and to read it, and standing on the broad step at his front\ndoor, in Cambridge, he replied to my suggestion with the sweet\nexpression: 'The universal sorrow is almost too sacred to touch with a\npen.'\n\n\"But when the evening came, although Professor Longfellow was too ill\nto be present, his poem was there. The great hall was crowded with\nthe most cultivated people of Boston. On the platform sat many of\nthe poets, orators and philosophers, who have since passed into\nthe Beyond. When, after several speeches had been made, I arose to\nintroduce Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, the pressure of the crowd was too\ngreat for me to reach my chair again, and I took for a time the seat\nwhich Dr. Holmes had just left, and next to Ralph Waldo Emerson.\nNever were words of poet listened to with a silence more respectfully\nprofound than were the words of Professor Longfellow's poem as they\nwere so touchingly and beautifully read by Dr. Holmes:\n\n  \"'Dead he lay among his books,\n  The peace of God was in his looks!\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Let the lifeless body rest,\n  He is gone who was its guest.--\n  Gone as travelers haste to leave\n  An inn, nor tarry until eve!\n  Traveler, in what realms afar,\n    In what planet, in what star,\n  In what vast, aerial space,\n  Shines the light upon thy face?\n    In what gardens of delight\n    Rest thy weary feet to-night--'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Before Dr. Holmes resumed his seat, Mr. Emerson whispered in my ear,\nin his epigrammatic style, 'This is holy Sabbath time.'\"\n\nAmong the books which Dr. Conwell has written are:\n\n  \"Lessons of Travel.\"\n  \"Why and How Chinese Emigrate.\"\n  \"Nature's Aristocracy.\"\n  \"History of the Great Fire in Boston.\"\n  \"The Life of Gen. U.S. Grant.\"\n  \"Woman and the Law.\"\n  \"The life of Rutherford B. Hayes.\"\n  \"History of the Great Fire in St. Johns.\"\n  \"The Life of Bayard Taylor.\"\n  \"The Life, Speeches, and Public Service of James A. Garfield.\"\n  \"Little Bo.\"\n  \"Joshua Gianavello.\"\n  \"The Life of James G. Blaine.\"\n  \"Acres of Diamonds.\"\n  \"Gleams of Grace.\"\n  \"The Life of Charles H. Spurgeon.\"\n  \"The New Day.\"\n\nThe manuscript which he prepared most carefully was the \"Life of\nDaniel Manin,\" which was destroyed by fire when his home at Newton\nCentre was burned. He had spent much time and labor collecting data on\nItalian history for it, and the loss was irreparable.\n\n\"Joshua Gianavello\" is a biographical story of the great Waldensian\nchieftain who loved religions liberty and feared neither inquisition\nnor death. It is dedicated to \"the many believers in the divine\nprinciple that every person should have the right to worship God\naccording to the dictates of his own conscience; and to the heroic\nwarriors who are still contending for religious freedom in the yet\nunfinished battle.\"\n\nThe same powerful imagination that pictures so realistically to his\nlecture and church audiences the scenes and people he is describing,\nmakes them live in his books. His style holds the reader by its\nvividness of description, its powerful delineation of character and\nemotion.\n\nHis latest book, \"The New Day,\" is an amplification of his great\nlecture, \"Acres of Diamonds.\" It is not only delightful reading but\nit is full of practical help for the affairs of everyday life. For\nno matter in what field Dr. Conwell works, this great desire of his\nlife--to help his brother man--shines out.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nA HOME COMING\n\nReception Tendered by Citizens of Philadelphia in Acknowledgment of\nWork as Public Benefactor.\n\n\nOne more scene in the life of this man who, from a barefoot country\nboy with no advantages, has become one of the most widely known of the\npreachers, lecturers and writers of the day, as well as the founder\nof a college and hospital holding an honored position among the\ninstitutions of the country.\n\nIn 1894, acting upon the advice of his physician, Dr. Conwell went\nabroad. It is no unusual thing for pastors to go abroad, nor for\nmembers of their church and friends to see them off. But for Grace\nBaptist Church personally to wish its pastor \"Bon voyage\" is something\nof an undertaking. A special train was chartered to take the members\nto New York. Here a steamer engaged for the purpose awaited them, and\ntwelve hundred strong, they steamed down the harbor alongside the \"New\nYork\" that Dr. Conwell's last glimpse of America might be of the faces\nof his own church family.\n\nOn his return six hundred church members met him and gave him a royal\nwelcome, and a large reception was held in The Temple to show how glad\nwere the hearts of his people that he was restored to them in health.\n\nBut it was not enough. The people of Philadelphia said, \"This man\nbelongs to us.\" In all parts of the city, in all walks of life, were\nmen and women who had studied at Temple College, whose lives were\nhappier, more useful because of the knowledge they had gained there,\nfor whom he had opened these college doors. The Samaritan Hospital had\nsent forth people by the hundreds whose bodies had been healed and\ntheir spirits quickened because his kindly heart had foreseen their\nneed and his generous hands labored to help it. Everywhere throughout\nthe whole city was felt the leaven of his work, and the people as a\nbody said, \"We will show our appreciation of the work he has done for\nPhiladelphia, we will show that we recognize him as one of the city's\ngreatest benefactors and philanthropists.\"\n\nA committee of twenty-one citizens was formed, of which the Mayor,\nEdwin S. Stuart, was chairman, and a reception was tendered Dr. and\nMrs. Conwell and the others of his party in the name of the citizens\nof Philadelphia. It was given at the Academy of Fine Arts. With its\npaintings and statuary, its broad sweeping staircases, it made a\nmagnificent setting for the throngs of men and women who crowded to\npay their respects to this man who had lived among them, doing good.\n\nThe line of waiting guests reached for two blocks and more and for\nhours moved in steady procession before the receiving party. At last\nthe final farewell was said and on toward midnight Dr. Conwell stepped\ninto the carriage waiting to take him home.\n\nBut the affair was not over. The college boys felt that shaking hands\nin formal fashion did not express sufficiently their loyalty and\ndevotion, their joy in the return of their beloved \"Prex.\" They\nunharnessed the horses, and with college cheers and yells triumphantly\ndrew their president all the way from the Academy of Fine Arts to his\nhome, a distance of two miles. As they passed Temple College, their\nenthusiasm broke all bounds and they drew up the carriage at the\nDoctor's residence, two blocks beyond the College, with a yell and a\nflourish that fairly lifted the neighbors from their beds.\n\nIt was in every way a homecoming and a welcome that proved how\nwide-reaching has been the work Dr. Conwell has done, how deeply it\nhas touched the lives of thousands of people in Philadelphia. This\nspontaneous act of appreciation was but the tribute paid by grateful\nhearts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nTHE PATH THAT HAS BEEN BLAZED\n\nProblems that Need Solving. The Need of Men Able to Solve Them.\n\n\n    \"O do not pray for easy lives\n  Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for\n    Tasks equal to your powers. Pray\n  For powers equal to your tasks.\n    Then the doing of your work shall be\n  No miracle. But you shall be a miracle,\n    Every day you shall wonder at yourself,\n  At the richness of life that has come to you\n    By the Grace of God.\"\n\nwrote that great preacher, Phillips Brooks.\n\nThe world does not want easy lives but strong men. Every age has its\nproblems. Every age needs men with clear moral vision, strong hands,\nhumane hearts to solve these problems. Character, not the fortune of\nbirth, qualifies for leadership in such a work. And such work ever\nwaits, the world over, to be done. In every large city of the country\nare thousands crying for better education, the suffering poor are\nholding up weak hands for help, men and women morally blind, are\nasking for light to find Christ--the Christ of the Bible, not the\nChrist of dogma and creed, religion pure and undefiled, the church in\nthe simplicity of the days of the apostles, the church that reaches\nout a helping hand to all the needs of humanity.\n\nInstitutional churches are needed, not one, but many of them, in the\ncities, churches that help men to grapple with the stern actualities\nof everyday life, churches that preach by works as well as by word,\nchurches in which the man in fustian is as welcome as the one in\nbroadcloth, churches whose influence reaches into the highways and\nbyways and compels people to come in by the very cordiality and\nkindness of the invitation, churches that help people to live better\nand more happily in this world, while at the same time preparing them\nfor the world to come.\n\n\"In no other city in the country is there such an example of the\nquickening force of a united and working church organization as\nis given by the North Broad Street Temple, Philadelphia,\" says an\neditorial writer in the Philadelphia \"Press.\" \"Twenty such churches\nin this city of 1,250,000 people would do more to evangelize it and\nre-awaken an interest in the vital truths of Christianity than the\nhundreds of church organizations it now has. The world is demanding\nmore and better returns from the church for the time and money given\nit. Real, practical Christian work is what is asked of the church. The\nsooner it conforms to this demand, the more quickly it will regain\nits old influence and be prepared to make effective its fight against\nevil.\"\n\nHospitals are needed that heal in the name of Christ, that heal ills\nof the body and at the same time by the spirit of love that permeates,\nby the Christian spirit that animates all connected with them, cure\nthe ills of the soul and send the sufferers away rejoicing in spirit\nas well as in body, with a brighter outlook on the world and increased\nfaith in humankind.\n\nColleges are needed the length and breadth of this land, wherever the\npoor and ignorant sit in darkness. In every town of five thousand or\nmore, a college for working people on the lines of the Temple College\nwould be thronged with eager, rejoicing students. And the world is the\nbetter for every man and woman raised to a higher plane of living. Any\nlife, no matter how sordid and narrow, how steeped in ignorance, if\nswept sweet and clean by God's love, if awakened by ambition and then\ngiven the opportunity to grow, can be changed into beauty, sweetness\nand usefulness. And such work is worth while.\n\nThe way has been blazed, the path has been pointed out, it only\nremains for those who follow after to walk therein. And if they walk\ntherein, they will gain that true greatness and deep happiness which\nPhillips Brooks says comes ever \"to the man who has given his life\nto his race, who feels that what God gives him, He gives him for\nmankind.\"\n\n\n\n\nACRES OF DIAMONDS\n\nDr. Conwell's most famous lecture and one of his earliest has been\ngiven at this writing (October, 1905) 3420 times. The income from it\nif invested at regular rates of interest would have amounted very\nnearly to one million dollars.\n\n\nPERSONAL GLIMPSES OF CELEBRATED MEN AND WOMEN\n\nIs Dr. Conwell's latest lecture. It is a backward glance over his own\nlife in which he tells in his inimitable fashion many of its most\ninteresting scenes and incidents. It is here published for the first\ntime.\n\n\n\n\nACRES OF DIAMONDS.[A]\n\n[Footnote A: Reported by A. Russell Smith and Harry E. Greager.]\n\n[Mr. Conwell's lectures are all delivered extemporaneously and differ\ngreatly from night to night.--Ed.]\n\n\nI am astonished that so many people should care to hear this story\nover again. Indeed, this lecture has become a study in psychology;\nit often breaks all rules of oratory, departs from the precepts of\nrhetoric, and yet remains the most popular of any lecture I have\ndelivered in the forty-four years of my public life. I have sometimes\nstudied for a year upon a lecture and made careful research, and then\npresented the lecture just once--never delivered it again. I put too\nmuch work on it. But this had no work on it--thrown together perfectly\nat random, spoken offhand without any special preparation, and it\nsucceeds when the thing we study, work over, adjust to a plan is an\nentire failure.\n\nThe \"Acres of Diamonds\" which I have mentioned through so many years\nare to be found in Philadelphia, and you are to find them. Many have\nfound them. And what man has done, man can do. I could not find\nanything better to illustrate my thought than a story I have told\nover and over again, and which is now found in books in nearly every\nlibrary.\n\nIn 1870 we went down the Tigris River. We hired a guide at Bagdad to\nshow us Persepolis, Nineveh and Babylon, and the ancient countries of\nAssyria as far as the Arabian Gulf. He was well acquainted with the\nland, but he was one of those guides who love to entertain their\npatrons; he was like a barber that tells you many stories in order to\nkeep your mind off the scratching and the scraping. He told me so\nmany stories that I grew tired of his telling them and I refused to\nlisten--looked away whenever he commenced; that made the guide quite\nangry, I remember that toward evening he took his Turkish cap off his\nhead and swung it around in the air. The gesture I did not understand\nand I did not dare look at him for fear I should become the victim of\nanother story. But, although I am not a woman, I did look, and the\ninstant I turned my eyes upon that worthy guide he was off again. Said\nhe, \"I will tell you a story now which I reserve for my particular\nfriends!\" So then, counting myself a particular friend, I listened,\nand I have always been glad I did.\n\nHe said there once lived not far from the River Indus an ancient\nPersian by the name of Al Hafed. He said that Al Hafed owned a very\nlarge farm with orchards, grain fields and gardens. He was a contented\nand wealthy man--contented because he was wealthy, and wealthy because\nhe was contented. One day there visited this old farmer one of those\nancient Buddhist priests, and he sat down by Al Hafed's fire and told\nthat old farmer how this world of ours was made. He said that this\nworld was once a mere bank of fog, which is scientifically true, and\nhe said that the Almighty thrust his finger into the bank of fog and\nthen began slowly to move his finger around and gradually to increase\nthe speed of his finger until at last he whirled that bank of fog\ninto a solid ball of fire, and it went rolling through the universe,\nburning its way through other cosmic banks of fog, until it condensed\nthe moisture without, and fell in floods of rain upon the heated\nsurface and cooled the outward crust. Then the internal flames burst\nthrough the cooling crust and threw up the mountains and made the\nhills of the valley of this wonderful world of ours. If this internal\nmelted mass burst out and cooled very quickly it became granite; that\nwhich cooled less quickly became silver; and less quickly, gold; and\nafter gold diamonds were made. Said the old priest, \"A diamond is a\ncongealed drop of sunlight.\"\n\nThis is a scientific truth also. You all know that a diamond is pure\ncarbon, actually deposited sunlight--and he said another thing I would\nnot forget: he declared that a diamond is the last and highest of\nGod's mineral creations, as a woman is the last and highest of God's\nanimal creations. I suppose that is the reason why the two have such a\nliking for each other. And the old priest told Al Hafed that if he had\na handful of diamonds he could purchase a whole county, and with a\nmine of diamonds he could place his children upon thrones through the\ninfluence of their great wealth. Al Hafed heard all about diamonds\nand how much they were worth, and went to his bed that night a\npoor man--not that he had lost anything, but poor because he was\ndiscontented and discontented because he thought he was poor. He said:\n\"I want a mine of diamonds!\" So he lay awake all night, and early in\nthe morning sought out the priest. Now I know from experience that\na priest when awakened early in the morning is cross. He awoke that\npriest out of his dreams and said to him, \"Will you tell me where I\ncan find diamonds?\" The priest said, \"Diamonds? What do you want with\ndiamonds?\" \"I want to be immensely rich,\" said Al Hafed, \"but I don't\nknow where to go.\" \"Well,\" said the priest, \"if you will find a river\nthat runs over white sand between high mountains, in those sands you\nwill always see diamonds.\" \"Do you really believe that there is such a\nriver?\" \"Plenty of them, plenty of them; all you have to do is just go\nand find them, then you have them.\" Al Hafed said, \"I will go.\" So he\nsold his farm, collected his money at interest, left his family in\ncharge of a neighbor, and away he went in search of diamonds. He began\nvery properly, to my mind, at the Mountains of the Moon. Afterwards he\nwent around into Palestine, then wandered on into Europe, and at last\nwhen his money was all spent, and he was in rags, wretchedness and\npoverty, he stood on the shore of that bay in Barcelona, Spain, when\na tidal wave came rolling in through the Pillars of Hercules and the\npoor afflicted, suffering man could not resist the awful temptation to\ncast himself into that incoming tide, and he sank beneath its foaming\ncrest, never to rise in this life again.\n\nWhen that old guide had told me that very sad story, he stopped the\ncamel I was riding and went back to fix the baggage on one of the\nother camels, and I remember thinking to myself, \"Why did he reserve\nthat for his _particular friends_?\" There seemed to be no beginning,\nmiddle or end--nothing to it. That was the first story I ever heard\ntold or read in which the hero was killed in the first chapter. I had\nbut one chapter of that story and the hero was dead. When the guide\ncame back and took up the halter of my camel again, he went right on\nwith the same story. He said that Al Hafed's successor led his camel\nout into the garden to drink, and as that camel put its nose down into\nthe clear water of the garden brook Al Hafed's successor noticed a\ncurious flash of light from the sands of the shallow stream, and\nreaching in he pulled out a black stone having an eye of light that\nreflected all the colors of the rainbow, and he took that curious\npebble into the house and left it on the mantel, then went on his way\nand forgot all about it. A few days after that, this same old priest\nwho told Al Hafed how diamonds were made, came in to visit his\nsuccessor, when he saw that flash of light from the mantel. He rushed\nup and said, \"Here is a diamond--here is a diamond! Has Al Hafed\nreturned?\" \"No, no; Al Hafed has not returned and that is not a\ndiamond; that is nothing but a stone; we found it right out here in\nour garden.\" \"But I know a diamond when I see it,\" said he; \"that is a\ndiamond!\"\n\nThen together they rushed to the garden and stirred up the white sands\nwith their fingers and found others more beautiful, more valuable\ndiamonds than the first, and thus, said the guide to me, were\ndiscovered the diamond mines of Golconda, the most magnificent diamond\nmines in all the history of mankind, exceeding the Kimberley in its\nvalue. The great Kohinoor diamond in England's crown jewels and the\nlargest crown diamond on earth in Russia's crown jewels, which I had\noften hoped she would have to sell before they had peace with Japan,\ncame from that mine, and when the old guide had called my attention to\nthat wonderful discovery he took his Turkish cap off his head again\nand swung it around in the air to call my attention to the moral.\nThose Arab guides have a moral to each story, though the stories are\nnot always moral. He said had Al Hafed remained at home and dug in his\nown cellar or in his own garden, instead of wretchedness, starvation,\npoverty and death in a strange land, he would have had \"acres of\ndiamonds\"--for every acre, yes, every shovelful of that old farm\nafterwards revealed the gems which since have decorated the crowns of\nmonarchs. When he had given the moral to his story, I saw why he had\nreserved this story for his \"particular friends.\" I didn't tell him I\ncould see it; I was not going to tell that old Arab that I could see\nit. For it was that mean old Arab's way of going around a thing, like\na lawyer, and saying indirectly what he did not dare say directly,\nthat there was a certain young man that day traveling down the Tigris\nRiver that might better be at home in America. I didn't tell him I\ncould see it.\n\nI told him his story reminded me of one, and I told it to him quick. I\ntold him about that man out in California, who, in 1847, owned a\nranch out there. He read that gold had been discovered in Southern\nCalifornia, and he sold his ranch to Colonel Sutter and started off to\nhunt for gold. Colonel Sutter put a mill on the little stream in\nthat farm and one day his little girl brought some wet sand from the\nraceway of the mill into the house and placed it before the fire to\ndry, and as that sand was falling through the little girl's fingers\na visitor saw the first shining scales of real gold that were ever\ndiscovered in California; and the man who wanted the gold had sold\nthis ranch and gone away, never to return. I delivered this lecture\ntwo years ago in California, in the city that stands near that farm,\nand they told me that the mine is not exhausted yet, and that a\none-third owner of that farm has been getting during these recent\nyears twenty dollars of gold every fifteen minutes of his life,\nsleeping or waking. Why, you and I would enjoy an income like that!\n\nBut the best illustration that I have now of this thought was found\nhere in Pennsylvania. There was a man living in Pennsylvania who\nowned a farm here and he did what I should do if I had a farm in\nPennsylvania--he sold it. But before he sold it he concluded to secure\nemployment collecting coal oil for his cousin in Canada. They first\ndiscovered coal oil there. So this farmer in Pennsylvania decided that\nhe would apply for a position with his cousin in Canada. Now, you see,\nthis farmer was not altogether a foolish man. He did net leave his\nfarm until he had something else to do. Of all the simpletons the\nstars shine on there is none more foolish than a man who leaves one\njob before he has obtained another. And that has especial reference to\ngentlemen of my profession, and has no reference to a man seeking a\ndivorce. So I say this old farmer did not leave one job until he had\nobtained another. He wrote to Canada, but his cousin replied that he\ncould not engage him because he did not know anything about the oil\nbusiness. \"Well, then,\" said he, \"I will understand it.\" So he set\nhimself at the study of the whole subject. He began at the second day\nof the creation, he studied the subject from the primitive vegetation\nto the coal oil stage, until he knew all about it. Then he wrote to\nhis cousin and said, \"Now I understand the oil business.\" And his\ncousin replied to him, \"All right, then, come on.\" That man, by the\nrecord of the county, sold his farm for eight hundred and thirty-three\ndollars--even money, \"no cents.\" He had scarcely gone from that farm\nbefore the man who purchased it went out to arrange for the watering\nthe cattle and he found that the previous owner had arranged the\nmatter very nicely. There is a stream running down the hillside there,\nand the previous owner had gone out and put a plank across that stream\nat an angle, extending across the brook and down edgewise a few inches\nunder the surface of the water. The purpose of the plank across that\nbrook was to throw over to the other bank a dreadful-looking scum\nthrough which the cattle would not put their noses to drink above the\nplank, although they would drink the water on one side below it. Thus\nthat man who had gone to Canada had been himself damming back for\ntwenty-three years a flow of coal oil which the State Geologist of\nPennsylvania declared officially, as early as 1870, was then worth to\nour State a hundred millions of dollars. The city of Titusville now\nstands on that farm and those Pleasantville wells flow on, and that\nfarmer who had studied all about the formation of oil since the second\nday of God's creation clear down to the present time, sold that farm\nfor $833, no cents--again I say \"no sense.\"\n\nBut I need another illustration, and I found that in Massachusetts,\nand I am sorry I did, because that is my old State. This young man I\nmention went out of the State to study--went down to Yale College and\nstudied Mines and Mining. They paid him fifteen dollars a week during\nhis last year for training students who were behind their classes in\nmineralogy, out of hours, of course, while pursuing his own studies.\nBut when he graduated they raised his pay from fifteen dollars to\nforty-five dollars and offered him a professorship. Then he went\nstraight home to his mother and said, \"Mother, I won't work for\nforty-five dollars a week. What is forty-five dollars a week for a man\nwith a brain like mine! Mother, lets go out to California and stake\nout gold claims and be immensely rich.\" \"Now\" said his mother, \"it is\njust as well to be happy as it is to be rich.\"\n\nBut as he was the only son he had his way--they always do; and they\nsold out in Massachusetts and went to Wisconsin, where he went into\nthe employ of the Superior Copper Mining Company, and he was lost from\nsight in the employ of that company at fifteen dollars a week again.\nHe was also to have an interest in any mines that he should discover\nfor that company. But I do not believe that he has ever discovered a\nmine--I do not know anything about it, but I do not believe he has. I\nknow he had scarcely gone from the old homestead before the farmer\nwho had bought the homestead went out to dig potatoes, and as he was\nbringing them in in a large basket through the front gateway, the ends\nof the stone wall came so near together at the gate that the basket\nhugged very tight. So he set the basket on the ground and pulled,\nfirst on one side and then on the other side. Our farms in\nMassachusetts are mostly stone walls, and the farmers have to be\neconomical with their gateways in order to have some place to put the\nstones. That basket hugged so tight there that as he was hauling it\nthrough he noticed in the upper stone next the gate a block of native\nsilver, eight inches square; and this professor of mines and mining\nand mineralogy, who would not work for forty-five dollars a week, when\nhe sold that homestead in Massachusetts, sat right on that stone to\nmake the bargain. He was brought up there; he had gone back and forth\nby that piece of silver, rubbed it with his sleeve, and it seemed to\nsay, \"Come now, now, now, here is a hundred thousand dollars. Why\nnot take me?\" But he would not take it. There was no silver in\nNewburyport; it was all away off--well, I don't know where; he didn't,\nbut somewhere else--and he was a professor of mineralogy.\n\nI do not know of anything I would enjoy better than to take the whole\ntime to-night telling of blunders like that I have heard professors\nmake. Yet I wish I knew what that man is doing out there in Wisconsin.\nI can imagine him out there, as he sits by his fireside, and he is\nsaying to his friends, \"Do you know that man Conwell that lives in\nPhiladelphia?\" \"Oh, yes, I have heard of him.\" \"And do you know that\nman. Jones that lives in that city?\" \"Yes, I have heard of him.\" And\nthen he begins to laugh and laugh and says to his friends, \"They have\ndone the same thing I did, precisely.\" And that spoils the whole joke,\nbecause you and I have done it.\n\nNinety out of every hundred people here have made that mistake this\nvery day. I say you ought to be rich; you have no right to be poor. To\nlive in Philadelphia and not be rich is a misfortune, and it is doubly\na misfortune, because you could have been rich just as well as be\npoor. Philadelphia furnishes so many opportunities. You ought to be\nrich. But persons with certain religious prejudice will ask, \"How can\nyou spend your time advising the rising generation to give their time\nto getting money--dollars and cents--the commercial spirit?\" Yet I\nmust say that you ought to spend time getting rich. You and I know\nthere are some things more valuable than money; of course, we do. Ah,\nyes! By a heart made unspeakably sad by a grave on which the autumn\nleaves now fall, I know there are some things higher and grander and\nsublimer than money. Well does the man know, who has suffered, that\nthere are some things sweeter and holier and more sacred than gold.\nNevertheless, the man of common sense also knows that there is not any\none of those things that is not greatly enhanced by the use of money.\nMoney is power. Love is the grandest thing on God's earth, but\nfortunate the lover who has plenty of money. Money is power; money has\npowers; and for a man to say, \"I do not want money,\" is to say, \"I do\nnot wish to do any good to my fellowmen.\" It is absurd thus to talk.\nIt is absurd to disconnect them. This is a wonderfully great life, and\nyou ought to spend your time getting money, because of the power there\nis in money. And yet this religious prejudice is so great that some\npeople think it is a great honor to be one of God's poor. I am looking\nin the faces of people who think just that way. I heard a man once\nsay in a prayer meeting that he was thankful that he was one of God's\npoor, and then I silently wondered what his wife would say to that\nspeech, as she took in washing to support the man while he sat and\nsmoked on the veranda. I don't want to see any more of that kind of\nGod's poor. Now, when a man could have been rich just as well, and he\nis now weak because he is poor, he has done some great wrong; he has\nbeen untruthful to himself; he has been unkind to his fellowmen. We\nought to get rich if we can by honorable and Christian methods, and\nthese are the only methods that sweep us quickly toward the goal of\nriches.\n\nI remember, not many years ago a young theological student who came\ninto my office and said to me that he thought it was his duty to come\nin and \"labor with me.\" I asked him what had happened, and he said: \"I\nfeel it is my duty to come in and speak to you, sir, and say that the\nHoly Scriptures declare that money is the root of all evil.\" I asked\nhim where he found that saying, and he said he found it in the Bible.\nI asked him whether he had made a new Bible, and he said, no, he had\nnot gotten a new Bible, that it was in the old Bible. \"Well,\" I\nsaid, \"if it is in my Bible, I never saw it. Will you please get the\ntext-book and let me see it?\" He left the room and soon came stalking\nin with his Bible open, with all the bigoted pride of the narrow\nsectarian, who founds his creed on some misinterpretation of\nScripture, and he puts the Bible down on the table before me and\nfairly squealed into my ear, \"There it is. You can read it for\nyourself.\" I said to him, \"Young man, you will learn, when you get a\nlittle older, that you cannot trust another denomination to read the\nBible for you.\" I said, \"Now, you belong to another denomination.\nPlease read it to me, and remember that you are taught in a school\nwhere emphasis is exegesis.\" So he took the Bible and read it: \"The\n_love_ of money is the root of all evil.\" Then he had it right. The\nGreat Book has come back into the esteem and love of the people, and\ninto the respect of the greatest minds of earth, and now you can quote\nit and rest your life and your death on it without more fear. So, when\nhe quoted right from the Scriptures he quoted the truth. \"The love of\nmoney is the root of all evil.\" Oh, that is it. It is the worship of\nthe means instead of the end, though you cannot reach the end without\nthe means. When a man makes an idol of the money instead of the\npurposes for which it may be used, when he squeezes the dollar until\nthe eagle squeals, then it is made the root of all evil. Think, if you\nonly had the money, what you could do for your wife, your child, and\nfor your home and your city. Think how soon you could endow the Temple\nCollege yonder if you only had the money and the disposition to give\nit; and yet, my friend, people say you and I should not spend the time\ngetting rich. How inconsistent the whole thing is. We ought to be\nrich, because money has power. I think the best thing for me to do is\nto illustrate this, for if I say you ought to get rich, I ought, at\nleast, to suggest how it is done. We get a prejudice against rich men\nbecause of the lies that are told about them. The lies that are told\nabout Mr. Rockefeller because he has two hundred million dollars--so\nmany believe them; yet how false is the representation of that man\nto the world. How little we can tell what is true nowadays when\nnewspapers try to sell their papers entirely on some sensation! The\nway they lie about the rich men is something terrible, and I do not\nknow that there is anything to illustrate this better than what the\nnewspapers now say about the city of Philadelphia. A young man came\nto me the other day and said, \"If Mr. Rockefeller, as you think, is a\ngood man, why is it that everybody says so much against him?\" It is\nbecause he has gotten ahead of us; that is the whole of it--just\ngotten ahead of us. Why is it Mr. Carnegie is criticised so sharply by\nan envious world? Because he has gotten more than we have. If a man\nknows more than I know, don't I incline to criticise somewhat his\nlearning? Let a man, stand in a pulpit and preach to thousands, and if\nI have fifteen people in my church, and they're all asleep, don't I\ncriticise him? We always do that to the man who gets ahead of us. Why,\nthe man you are criticising has one hundred millions, and you have\nfifty cents, and both of you have just what you are worth. One of\nthe richest men in this country came into my home and sat down in my\nparlor and said: \"Did you see all those lies about my family in the\npaper?\" \"Certainly I did; I knew they were lies when I saw them.\" \"Why\ndo they lie about me the way they do?\" \"Well\", I said to him, \"if you\nwill give me your check for one hundred millions, I will take all the\nlies along with it\" \"Well,\" said he, \"I don't see any sense in their\nthus talking about my family and myself. Conwell, tell me frankly,\nwhat do you think the American people think of me?\" \"Well,\" said I,\n\"they think you are the blackest-hearted villain that ever trod the\nsoil!\" \"But what can I do about it?\" There is nothing he can do about\nit, and yet he is one of the sweetest Christian men I ever knew. If\nyou get a hundred millions you will have the lies; you will be lied\nabout, and you can judge your success in any line by the lies that are\ntold about you. I say that you ought to be rich. But there are ever\ncoming to me young men who say, \"I would like to go into business,\nbut I cannot.\" \"Why not?\" \"Because I have no capital to begin on.\"\nCapital, capital to begin on! What! young man! Living in Philadelphia\nand looking at this wealthy generation, all of whom began as poor\nboys, and you want capital to begin on? It is fortunate for you that\nyou have no capital. I am glad you have no money. I pity a rich man's\nson. A rich man's son in these days of ours occupies a very difficult\nposition. They are to be pitied. A rich man's son cannot know the very\nbest things in human life. He cannot. The statistics of Massachusetts\nshow us that not one out of seventeen rich men's sons ever die rich.\nThey are raised in luxury, they die in poverty. Even if a rich man's\nson retains his father's money even then he cannot know the best\nthings of life.\n\nA young man in our college yonder asked me to formulate for him what\nI thought was the happiest hour in a man's history, and I studied it\nlong and came back convinced that the happiest hour that any man ever\nsees in any earthly matter is when a young man takes his bride over\nthe threshold of the door, for the first time, of the house he himself\nhas earned and built, when he turns to his bride and with an eloquence\ngreater than any language of mine, he sayeth to his wife, \"My loved\none, I earned this home myself; I earned it all. It is all mine, and\nI divide it with thee.\" That is the grandest moment a human heart may\never see. But a rich man's son cannot know that. He goes into a finer\nmansion, it may be, but he is obliged to go through the house and say,\n\"Mother gave me this, mother gave me that, my mother gave me that,\nmy mother gave me that,\" until his wife wishes she had married his\nmother. Oh, I pity a rich man's son. I do. Until he gets so far along\nin his dudeism that he gets his arms up like that and can't get them\ndown. Didn't you ever see any of them astray at Atlantic City? I saw\none of these scarecrows once and I never tire thinking about it. I was\nat Niagara Falls lecturing, and after the lecture I went to the hotel,\nand when I went up to the desk there stood there a millionaire's son\nfrom New York. He was an indescribable specimen of anthropologic\npotency. He carried a gold-headed cane under his arm--more in its head\nthan he had in his. I do not believe I could describe the young man if\nI should try. But still I must say that he wore an eye-glass he could\nnot see through; patent leather shoes he could not walk in, and pants\nhe could not sit down in--dressed like a grasshopper! Well, this human\ncricket came up to the clerk's desk just as I came in. He adjusted his\nunseeing eye-glass in this wise and lisped to the clerk, because it's\n\"Hinglish, you know,\" to lisp: \"Thir, thir, will you have the kindness\nto fuhnish me with thome papah and thome envelopehs!\" The clerk\nmeasured that man quick, and he pulled out a drawer and took some\nenvelopes and paper and cast them across the counter and turned away\nto his books. You should have seen that specimen of humanity when the\npaper and envelopes came across the counter--he whose wants had always\nbeen anticipated by servants. He adjusted his unseeing eye-glass and\nhe yelled after that clerk: \"Come back here thir, come right back\nhere. Now, thir, will you order a thervant to take that papah and\nthothe envelopes and carry them to yondah dethk.\" Oh, the poor\nmiserable, contemptible American monkey! He couldn't carry paper and\nenvelopes twenty feet. I suppose he could not get his arms down. I\nhave no pity for such travesties of human nature. If you have no\ncapital, I am glad of it You don't need capital; you need common\nsense, not copper cents.\n\nA.T. Stewart, the great princely merchant of New York, the richest man\nin America in his time, was a poor boy; he had a dollar and a half and\nwent into the mercantile business. But he lost eighty-seven and a half\ncents of his first dollar and a half because he bought some needles\nand thread and buttons to sell, which people didn't want. Are you\npoor? It is because you are not wanted and are left on your own hands.\nThere was the great lesson. Apply it whichever way you will it comes\nto every single person's life, young or old. He did not know what\npeople needed, and consequently bought something they didn't want, and\nhad the goods left on his hands a dead loss. A.T. Stewart earned there\nthe great lesson of his mercantile life and said, \"I will never buy\nanything more until I first learn what the people want; then I'll make\nthe purchase.\" He went around to the doors and asked them what they\ndid want, and when he found out what they wanted, he invested his\nsixty-two and a hall cents and began to supply \"a known demand.\" I\ncare not what your profession or occupation in life may be; I care not\nwhether you are a lawyer, a doctor, a housekeeper, teacher or whatever\nelse, the principle is precisely the same. We must know what the world\nneeds first and then invest ourselves to supply that need, and success\nis almost certain. A.T. Stewart went on until he was worth forty\nmillions. \"Well,\" you will say, \"a man can do that in New York, but\ncannot do it here in Philadelphia.\" The statistics very carefully\ngathered in New York in 1889 showed one hundred and seven millionaires\nin the city worth over ten millions apiece. It was remarkable and\npeople think they must go there to get rich. Out of that one hundred\nand seven millionaires only seven of them made their money in New\nYork, and the others moved to New York after their fortunes were made,\nand sixty-seven out of the remaining hundred made their fortunes in\ntowns of less than six thousand people, and the richest man in\nthe country at that time lived in a town of thirty-five hundred\ninhabitants, and always lived there and never moved away. It is not\nso much where you are as what you are. But at the same time if the\nlargeness of the city comes into the problem, then remember it is the\nsmaller city that furnishes the great opportunity to make the millions\nof money. The best illustration that I can give is in reference to\nJohn Jacob Astor, who was a poor boy and who made all the money of the\nAstor family. He made more than his successors have ever earned, and\nyet he once held a mortgage on a millinery store in New York, and\nbecause the people could not make enough money to pay the interest and\nthe rent, he foreclosed the mortgage and took possession of the store\nand went into partnership with the man who had failed. He kept the\nsame stock did not give them a dollar of capital, and he left them\nalone and went out and sat down upon a bench in the park. Out there on\nthat bench in the park he had the most important, and to my mind, the\npleasantest part of that partnership business. He was watching the\nladies as they went by; and where is the man that wouldn't get rich\nat that business? But when John Jacob Astor saw a lady pass, with her\nshoulders back and her head up, as if she did not care if the whole\nworld looked on her, he studied her bonnet; and before that bonnet\nwas out of sight he knew the shape of the frame and the color of the\ntrimmings, the curl of the--something on a bonnet Sometimes I try to\ndescribe a woman's bonnet, but it is of little use, for it would be\nout of style to-morrow night. So John Jacob Astor went to the store\nand said: \"Now, put in the show window just such a bonnet as I\ndescribe to you because,\" said he, \"I have just seen a lady who likes\njust such a bonnet. Do not make up any more till I come back.\" And he\nwent out again and sat on that bench in the park, and another lady of\na different form and complexion passed him with a bonnet of different\nshape and color, of course. \"Now,\" said he, \"put such a bonnet as that\nin the show window.\" He didn't fill his show window with hats and\nbonnets which drive people away and then sit in the back of the store\nand bawl because the people go somewhere else to trade. He didn't put\na hat or bonnet in that show window the like of which he had not seen\nbefore it was made up.\n\nIn our city especially there are great opportunities for\nmanufacturing, and the time has come when the line is drawn very\nsharply between the stockholders of the factory and their employ\u00e9s.\nNow, friends, there has also come a discouraging gloom upon this\ncountry and the laboring men are beginning to feel that they are being\nheld down by a crust over their heads through which they find it\nimpossible to break, and the aristocratic money-owner himself is so\nfar above that he will never descend to their assistance. That is the\nthought that is in the minds of our people. But, friends, never in the\nhistory of our country was there an opportunity so great for the poor\nman to get rich as there is now and in the city of Philadelphia. The\nvery fact that they get discouraged is what prevents them from getting\nrich. That is all there is to it. The road is open, and let us keep it\nopen between the poor and the rich. I know that the labor unions have\ntwo great problems to contend with, and there is only one way to solve\nthem. The labor unions are doing as much to prevent its solving as are\nthe capitalists to-day, and there are positively two sides to it. The\nlabor union has two difficulties; the first one is that it began to\nmake a labor scale for all classes on a par, and they scale down a man\nthat can earn five dollars a day to two and a half a day, in order to\nlevel up to him an imbecile that cannot earn fifty cents a day. That\nis one of the most dangerous and discouraging things for the working\nman. He cannot get the results of his work if he do better work or\nhigher work or work longer; that is a dangerous thing, and in order to\nget every laboring man free and every American equal to every other\nAmerican, let the laboring man ask what he is worth and get it--not\nlet any capitalist say to him: \"You shall work for me for half of what\nyou are worth;\" nor let any labor organization say: \"You shall work for\nthe capitalist for half your worth.\" Be a man, be independent, and\nthen shall the laboring man find the road ever open from poverty to\nwealth. The other difficulty that the labor union has to consider, and\nthis problem they have to solve themselves, is the kind of orators who\ncome and talk to them about the oppressive rich. I can in my\ndreams recite the oration I have heard again and again under such\ncircumstances. My life has been with the laboring man. I am a laboring\nman myself. I have often, in their assemblies, heard the speech of the\nman who has been invited to address the labor union. The man gets up\nbefore the assembled company of honest laboring men and he begins by\nsaying: \"Oh, ye honest, industrious laboring men, who have furnished\nall the capital of the world, who have built all the palaces and\nconstructed all the railroads and covered the ocean with her\nsteamships. Oh, you laboring men! You are nothing but slaves; you are\nground down in the dust by the capitalist who is gloating over you as\nhe enjoys his beautiful estates and as he has his banks filled with\ngold, and every dollar he owns is coined out of the hearts' blood of\nthe honest laboring man.\" Now, that is a lie, and you know it is a\nlie; and yet that is the kind of speech that they are all the time\nhearing, representing the capitalists as wicked and the laboring men\nso enslaved. Why, how wrong it is! Let the man who loves his flag and\nbelieves in American principles endeavor with all his soul to bring\nthe capitalist and the laboring man together until they stand side by\nside, and arm in arm, and work for the common good of humanity.\n\nHe is an enemy to his country who sets capital against labor or labor\nagainst capital.\n\nSuppose I were to go down through this audience and ask you to\nintroduce me to the great inventors who live here in Philadelphia.\n\"The inventors of Philadelphia,\" you would say \"Why we don't have any\nin Philadelphia. It is too slow to invent anything.\" But you do have\njust as great inventors, and they are here in this audience, as ever\ninvented a machine. But the probability is that the greatest inventor\nto benefit the world with his discovery is some person, perhaps some\nlady, who thinks she could not invent anything. Did you ever study the\nhistory of invention and see how strange it was that the man who made\nthe greatest discovery did it without any previous idea that he was an\ninventor? Who are the great inventors? They are persons with plain,\nstraightforward common sense, who saw a need in the world and\nimmediately applied themselves to supply that need. If you want to\ninvent anything, don't try to find it in the wheels in your head nor\nthe wheels in your machine, but first find out what the people need,\nand then apply yourself to that need, and this leads to invention on\nthe part of people you would not dream of before. The great inventors\nare simply great men; the greater the man the more simple the man; and\nthe more simple a machine, the more valuable it is. Did you ever know\na really great man? His ways are so simple, so common, so plain, that\nyou think any one could do what he is doing. So it is with the great\nmen the world over. If you know a really great man, a neighbor of\nyours, you can go right up to him and say, \"How are you, Jim, good\nmorning, Sam.\" Of course you can, for they are always so simple.\n\nWhen I wrote the life of General Garfield, one of his neighbors took\nme to his back door, and shouted, \"Jim, Jim, Jim!\" and very soon \"Jim\"\ncame to the door and General Garfield let me in--one of the grandest\nmen of our century. The great men of the world are ever so. I was down\nin Virginia and went up to an educational institution and was directed\nto a man who was setting out a tree. I approached him and said, \"Do\nyou think it would be possible for me to see General Robert B. Lee,\nthe President of the University?\" He said, \"Sir, I am General Lee.\"\nOf course, when you meet such a man, so noble a man as that, you will\nfind him a simple, plain man. Greatness is always just so modest and\ngreat inventions are simple.\n\nI asked a class in school once who were the great inventors, and a\nlittle girl popped up and said, \"Columbus.\" Well, now, she was not so\nfar wrong. Columbus bought a farm and he carried on that farm just as\nI carried on my father's farm. He took a hoe and went out and sat down\non a rock. But Columbus, as he sat upon that shore and looked out upon\nthe ocean, noticed that the ships, as they sailed away, sank deeper\ninto the sea the farther they went. And since that time some other\n\"Spanish ships\" have sunk into the sea. But as Columbus noticed that\nthe tops of the masts dropped down out of sight, he said: \"That is the\nway it is with this hoe handle; if you go around this hoe handle, the\nfarther off you go the farther down you go. I can sail around to the\nEast Indies.\" How plain it all was. How simple the mind--majestic\nlike the simplicity of a mountain in its greatness. Who are the great\ninventors? They are ever the simple, plain, everyday people who see\nthe need and set about to supply it.\n\nI was once lecturing in North Carolina, and the cashier of the bank\nsat directly behind a lady who wore a very large hat. I said to that\naudience, \"Your wealth is too near to you; you are looking right over\nit.\" He whispered to his friend, \"Well, then, my wealth is in that\nhat.\" A little later, as he wrote me, I said, \"Wherever there is a\nhuman need there is a greater fortune than a mine can furnish.\" He\ncaught my thought, and he drew up his plan for a better hat pin than\nwas in the hat before him, and the pin is now being manufactured. He\nwas offered fifty-five thousand dollars for his patent. That man\nmade his fortune before he got out of that hall. This is the whole\nquestion: Do you see a need?\n\nI remember well a man up in my native hills, a poor man, who for\ntwenty years was helped by the town in his poverty, who owned a\nwide-spreading maple tree that covered the poor man's cottage like\na benediction from on high. I remember that tree, for in the\nspring--there were some roguish boys around that neighborhood when I\nwas young--in the spring of the year the man would put a bucket there\nand the spouts to catch the maple sap, and I remember where that\nbucket was; and when I was young the boys were, oh, so mean, that\nthey went to that tree before than man had gotten out of bed in the\nmorning, and after he had gone to bed at night, and drank up that\nsweet sap. I could swear they did it. He didn't make a great deal of\nmaple sugar from that tree. But one day he made the sugar so white\nand crystaline that the visitor did not believe it was maple sugar;\nthought maple sugar must be red or black. He said to the old man: \"Why\ndon't you make it that way and sell it for confectionary?\" The old man\ncaught his thought and invented the \"rock maple crystal,\" and before\nthat patent expired he had ninety thousand dollars and had built a\nbeautiful palace on the site of that tree. After forty years owning\nthat tree he awoke to find it had fortunes of money indeed in it. And\nmany of us are right by the tree that has a fortune for us, and we own\nit, possess it, do what we will with it, but we do not learn its value\nbecause we do not see the human need, and in these discoveries, and\ninventions this is one of the most romantic things of life.\n\nI have received letters from all over the country and from England,\nwhere I have lectured, saying that they have discovered this and that,\nand one man out in Ohio took me through his great factories last\nspring, and said that they cost him $680,000, and said he, \"I was\nnot worth a cent in the world when I heard your lecture \"Acres of\nDiamonds\"; but I made up my mind to stop right here and make my\nfortune here, and here it is.\" He showed me through his unmortgaged\npossessions. And this is a continual experience now as I travel\nthrough the country, after these many years. I mention this incident,\nnot to boast, but to show you that you can do the same if you will.\n\nWho are the great inventors? I remember a good illustration in a man\nwho used to live in East Brookfield, Mass. He was a shoemaker, and he\nwas out of work, and he sat around the house until his wife told him\n\"to go out doors.\" And he did what every husband is compelled by law\nto do--he obeyed his wife. And he went out and sat down on an ash\nbarrel in his back yard. Think of it! Stranded on an ash barrel and\nthe enemy in possession of the house! As he sat on that ash barrel, he\nlooked down into that little brook which ran through that back yard\ninto the meadows, and he saw a little trout go flashing up the stream\nand hiding under the bank. I do not suppose he thought of Tennyson's\nbeautiful poem:\n\n  \"Chatter, chatter, as I flow,\n   To join the brimming river,\n  Men may come, and men may go,\n   But I go on forever.\"\n\nBut as this man looked into the brook, he leaped off that ash barrel\nand managed to catch the trout with his fingers, and sent it to\nWorcester. They wrote back that they would give him a five dollar bill\nfor another such trout as that, not that it was worth that much, but\nhe wished to help the poor man. So this shoemaker and his wife, now\nperfectly united, that five dollar bill in prospect went out to get\nanother trout They went up the stream to its source and down to the\nbrimming river, but not another trout could they find in the whole\nstream; and so they came home disconsolate and went to the minister.\nThe minister didn't know how trout grew, but he pointed the way. Said\nhe, \"Get Seth Green's book, and that will give you the information you\nwant.\" They did so, and found all about the culture of trout. They\nfound that a trout lays thirty-six hundred eggs every year and every\ntrout gains a quarter of a pound every year, so that in four years a\nlittle trout will furnish four tons per annum to sell to the market\nat fifty cents a pound. When they found that, they said they didn't\nbelieve any such story as that, but if they could get five dollars a\npiece they could make something. And right in that same back yard with\nthe coal sifter up stream and window screen down the stream, they\nbegan the culture of trout. They afterwards moved to the Hudson, and\nsince then he has become the authority in the United States upon the\nraising of fish, and he has been next to the highest on the United\nStates Fish Commission in Washington. My lesson is that man's wealth\nwas out there in his back yard for twenty years, but he didn't see it\nuntil his wife drove him out with a mop stick.\n\nI remember meeting personally a poor carpenter of Hingham,\nMassachusetts, who was out of work and in poverty. His wife also drove\nhim out of doors. He sat down on the shore and whittled a soaked\nshingle into a wooden chain. His children quarreled over it in the\nevening, and while he was whittling a second one, a neighbor came\nalong and said, \"Why don't you whittle toys if you can carve like\nthat?\" He said, \"I don't know what to make!\" There is the whole thing.\nHis neighbor said to him: \"Why don't you ask your own children?\" Said\nhe, \"What is the use of doing that? My children are different from\nother people's children.\" I used to see people like that when I taught\nschool. The next morning when his boy came down the stairway, he said,\n\"Sam, what do you want for a toy?\" \"I want a wheel-barrow.\" When his\nlittle girl came down he asked her what she wanted, and she said, \"I\nwant a little doll's washstand, a little doll's carriage, a little\ndoll's umbrella,\" and went on with a whole lot of things that would\nhave taken his lifetime to supply. He consulted his own children right\nthere in his own house and began to whittle out toys to please them.\nHe began with his jack-knife, and made those unpainted Hingham toys.\nHe is the richest man in the entire New England States, if Mr. Lawson\nis to be trusted in his statement concerning such things, and yet\nthat man's fortune was made by consulting his own children in his own\nhouse. You don't need to go out of your own house to find out what to\ninvent or what to make. I always talk too long on this subject.\n\nI would like to meet the great men who are here to-night. The great\nmen! We don't have any great men in Philadelphia. Great men! You\nsay that they all come from London, or San Francisco, or Rome,\nor Manayunk, or anywhere else but here--anywhere else but\nPhiladelphia--and yet, in fact, there are just as great men in\nPhiladelphia as in any city of its size. There are great men and women\nin this audience. Great men, I have said, are very simple men. Just as\nmany great men here as are to be found anywhere. The greatest error in\njudging great men is that we think that they always hold an office.\nThe world knows nothing of its greatest men. Who are the great men of\nthe world? The young man and young woman may well ask the question. It\nis not necessary that they should hold an office, and yet that is the\npopular idea. That is the idea we teach now in our high schools and\ncommon schools, that the great men of the world are those who hold\nsome high office, and unless we change that very soon and do away\nwith that prejudice, we are going to change to an empire. There is\nno question about it. We must teach that men are great only on their\nintrinsic value, and not on the position that they may incidentally\nhappen to occupy. And yet, don't blame the young men saying that they\nare going to be great when they get into some official position. I ask\nthis audience again who of you are going to be great? Says a young\nman: \"I am going to be great\" \"When are you going to be great?\" \"When\nI am elected to some political office,\" Won't you learn the lesson,\nyoung man; that it is _prima facie_ evidence of littleness to hold\npublic office under our form of government? Think of it. This is a\ngovernment of the people, and by the people, and for the people, and\nnot for the office-holder, and if the people in this country rule as\nthey always should rule, an officeholder is only the servant of the\npeople, and the Bible says that \"the servant cannot be greater than\nhis master,\" The Bible says that \"he that is sent cannot be greater\nthan him who sent him.\" In this country the people are the masters,\nand the office-holders can never be greater than the people; they\nshould be honest servants of the people, but they are not our greatest\nmen. Young man, remember that you never heard of a great man holding\nany political office in this country unless he took that office at an\nexpense to himself. It is a loss to every great man to take a public\noffice in our country. Bear this in mind, young man, that you cannot\nbe made great by a political election. Another young man says, \"I am\ngoing to be a great man in Philadelphia some time.\" \"Is that so? When\nare you going to be great?\" \"When there comes another war! When we get\ninto difficulty with Mexico, or England, or Russia, or Japan, or with\nSpain again over Cuba, or with New Jersey, I will march up to the\ncannon's mouth, and amid the glistening bayonets I will tear down\ntheir flag from its staff, and I will come home with stars on my\nshoulders, and hold every office in the gift of the government, and I\nwill be great.\" \"No, you won't! No, you won't; that is no evidence\nof true greatness, young man.\" But don't blame that young man for\nthinking that way; that is the way he is taught in the high school.\nThat is the way history is taught in college. He is taught that the\nmen who held the office did all the fighting.\n\nI remember we had a Peace Jubilee here in Philadelphia soon after the\nSpanish war. Perhaps some of those visitors think we should not have\nhad it until now in Philadelphia, and as the great procession was\ngoing up Broad street I was told that the tally-ho coach stopped right\nin front of my house, and on the coach was Hobson, and all the people\nthrew up their hats and swung their handkerchiefs, and shouted \"Hurrah\nfor Hobson!\" I would have yelled too, because he deserves much more of\nhis country than he has ever received. But suppose I go into the High\nSchool to-morrow and ask, \"Boys, who sunk the Merrimac?\" If they\nanswer me \"Hobson,\" they tell me seven-eighths of a lie--seven-eighths\nof a lie, because there were eight men who sunk the Merrimac. The\nother seven men, by virtue of their position, were continually exposed\nto the Spanish fire, while Hobson, as an officer, might reasonably be\nbehind the smoke-stack. Why, my friends, in this intelligent audience\ngathered here to-night I do not believe I could find a single person\nthat can name the other seven men who were with Hobson. Why do we\nteach history in that way? We ought to teach that however humble the\nstation a man may occupy, if he does his full duty in his place, he is\njust as much entitled to the American peopled honor as is a king upon\na throne. We do teach it as a mother did her little boy in Now York\nwhen he said, \"Mamma, what great building is that?\" \"That is General\nGrant's tomb.\" \"Who was General Grant?\" \"He was the man who put down\nthe rebellion.\" Is that the way to teach history?\n\nDo you think we would have gained a victory if it had depended on\nGeneral Grant alone? Oh, no. Then why is there a tomb on the Hudson at\nall? Why, not simply because General Grant was personally a great man\nhimself, but that tomb is there because he was a representative man\nand represented two hundred thousand men who went down to death for\ntheir nation and many of them as great as General Grant. That is why\nthat beautiful tomb stands on the heights over the Hudson.\n\nI remember an incident that will illustrate this, the only one that I\ncan give to-night. I am ashamed of it, but I don't dare leave it out.\nI close my eyes now; I look back through the years to 1863; I can see\nmy native town in the Berkshire Hills, I can see that cattle-show\nground filled with people; I can see the church there and the town\nhall crowded, and hear bands playing, and see flags flying and\nhandkerchiefs steaming--well do I recall at this moment that day.\nThe people had turned out to receive a company of soldiers, and that\ncompany came marching up on the Common. They had served out one term\nin the Civil War and had re-enlisted, and they were being received\nby their native townsmen. I was but a boy, but I was captain of that\ncompany, puffed out with pride on that day--why, a cambric needle\nwould have burst me all to pieces. As I marched on the Common at the\nhead of my company, there was not a man more proud than I. We marched\ninto the town hall and then they seated my soldiers down in the center\nof the house and I took my place down on the front seat, and then the\ntown officers filed through the great throng of people, who stood\nclose and packed in that little hall. They came up on the platform,\nformed a half circle around it, and the mayor of the town, the\n\"chairman of the Select men\" in Kew England, took his seat in the\nmiddle of that half circle, He was an old man, his hair was gray; he\nnever held an office before in his life. He thought that an office was\nall he needed to be a truly great man, and when he came up he adjusted\nhis powerful spectacles and glanced calmly around the audience with\namazing dignity. Suddenly his eyes fell upon me, and then the good old\nman came right forward and invited me to come up on the stand with the\ntown officers. Invited me up on the stand! No town officer ever took\nnotice of me before I went to war. Now, I should not say that. One\ntown officer was there who advised the teacher to \"whale\" me, but I\nmean no \"honorable mention.\" So I was invited up on the stand with the\ntown officers. I took my seat and let my sword fall on the floor, and\nfolded my arms across my breast and waited to be received. Napoleon\nthe Fifth! Pride goeth before destruction and a fall. When I had\ngotten my seat and all became silent through the hall, the chairman of\nthe Select men arose and came forward with great dignity to the table,\nand we all supposed he would introduce the Congregational minister,\nwho was the only orator in the town, and who would give the oration\nto the returning soldiers. But, friends, you should have seen the\nsurprise that ran over that audience when they discovered that this\nold farmer was going to deliver that oration himself. He had never\nmade a speech in his life before, but he fell into the same error that\nothers have fallen into, he seemed to think that the office would make\nhim an orator. So he had written out a speech and walked up and down\nthe pasture until he had learned it by heart and frightened the\ncattle, and he brought that manuscript with him, and taking it from\nhis pocket, he spread it carefully upon the table. Then he adjusted\nhis spectacles to be sure that he might see it, and walked far back on\nthe platform and then stepped forward like this. He must have studied\nthe subject much, for he assumed an elocutionary attitude; he rested\nheavily upon his left heel, slightly advanced the right foot, threw\nback his shoulders, opened the organs of speech, and advanced his\nright hand at an angle of forty-five. As he stood in that elocutionary\nattitude this is just the way that speech went, this is it precisely.\nSome of my friends have asked me if I do not exaggerate it, but I\ncould not exaggerate it. Impossible! This is the way it went; although\nI am not here for the story but the lesson that is back of it:\n\n\"Fellow citizens.\" As soon as he heard his voice, his hand began to\nshake like that, his knees began to tremble, and then he shook all\nover. He coughed and choked and finally came around to look at his\nmanuscript. Then he began again: \"Fellow citizens: We--are--we are--we\nare--we are--We are very happy--we are very happy--we are very\nhappy--to welcome back to their native town these soldiers who have\nfought and bled--and come back again to their native town. We are\nespecially--we are especially--we are especially--we are especially\npleased to see with us to-day this young hero (that meant me)--this\nyoung hero who in imagination (friends, remember, he said\n\"imagination,\" for if he had not said that, I would not be egotistical\nenough to refer to it)--this young hero who, in imagination, we have\nseen leading his troops--leading--we have seen leading--we have\nseen leading his troops on to the deadly breach. We have seen his\nshining--his shining--we have seen his shining--we have seen his\nshining--his shining sword--flashing in the sunlight as he shouted to\nhis troops, 'Come on!'\"\n\nOh, dear, dear, dear, dear! How little that good, old man knew about\nwar. If he had known anything about war, he ought to have known what\nany soldier in this audience knows is true, that it is next to a crime\nfor an officer of infantry ever in time of danger to go ahead of his\nmen. I, with my shining sword flashing in the sunlight, shouting to my\ntroops: \"Come on.\" I never did it. Do you suppose I would go ahead of\nmy men to be shot in the front by the enemy and in the back by my own\nmen? That is no place for an officer. The place for the officer is\nbehind the private soldier in actual fighting. How often, as a staff\nofficer, I rode down the line when the Rebel cry and yell was coming\nout of the woods, sweeping along over the fields, and shouted,\n\"Officers to the rear! Officers to the rear!\" and then every officer\ngoes behind the line of battle, and the higher the officer's rank,\nthe farther behind he goes. Not because he is any the less brave, but\nbecause the laws of war require that to be done. If the general came\nup on the front line and were killed you would lose your battle\nanyhow, because he has the plan of the battle in his brain, and must\nbe kept in comparative safety. I, with my \"shining sword flashing in\nthe sunlight.\" Ah! There sat in the hall that day men who had given\nthat boy their last hardtack, who had carried him on their backs\nthrough deep rivers. But some were not there; they had gone down to\ndeath for their country. The speaker mentioned them, but they were but\nlittle noticed, and yet they had gone down to death for their country,\ngone down for a cause they believed was right and still believe was\nright, though I grant to the other side the same that I ask for\nmyself. Yet these men who had actually died for their country were\nlittle noticed, and the hero of the hour was this boy. Why was he the\nhero? Simply because that man fell into that same foolishness. This\nboy was an officer, and those were only private soldiers. I learned\na lesson that I will never forget. Greatness consists not in holding\nsome office; greatness really consists in doing some great deed with\nlittle means, in the accomplishment of vast purposes from the private\nranks of life; that is true greatness. He who can give to this people\nbetter streets, better homes, better schools, better churches, more\nreligion, more of happiness, more of God, he that can be a blessing to\nthe community in which he lives to-night will be great anywhere, but\nhe who cannot be a blessing where he now lives will never be great\nanywhere on the face of God's earth. \"We live in deeds, not years, in\nfeeling, not in figures on a dial; in thoughts, not breaths; we should\ncount time by heart throbs, in the cause of right.\" Bailey says: \"He\nmost lives who thinks most.\"\n\nIf you forget everything I have said to you, do not forget this,\nbecause it contains more in two lines than all I have said. Bailey\nsays: \"He most lives who thinks most, who feels the noblest, and who\nacts the best.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"PERSONAL GLIMPSES OF CELEBRATED MEN AND WOMEN.\"[A]\n\n[Footnote A: Stenographic report by A. Russell Smith, Sec'y.]\n\nWhen I had been lecturing forty years, which is now four years ago,\nthe Lecture Bureau suggested that before I retire from the public\nplatform, that I should prepare one subject and deliver it through the\ncountry. For I had told the Bureau thirty years ago that when I had\nlectured forty years, I would retire. They therefore suggested a talk\non this topic, \"Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and Women.\" But a\ndeath in our family which destroyed the homeness of our house produced\nsuch an effect upon us that after the forty years came we found that\nwe would rather wander than stay at home, and consequently we are\ntraveling still, and will do so until the end. This explanation will\nshow why many of these things are said. For I must necessarily bring\nmyself often into this topic, sometimes unpleasantly to myself. Mark\nTwain says, that the trouble with an old man is that he \"remembers so\nmany things that ain't so,\" and with Mark Twain's caution in my ears,\nI will try to give you these \"Personal Glimpses of Celebrated Men and\nWomen.\"\n\nI do not claim to be a very intimate friend of great men. But a fly\nmay look at an elephant, and for this reason we may glance at the\ngreat men and women whom I have seen through the many years of public\nlife. Sometimes those glimpses give us a better idea of the real man\nor woman than an entire biography written while he was living would\ndo; and to-night as a grandfather would bring his grandchildren to his\nknee and tell them of his little experiences, so let me tell to you\nthese incidents in a life now so largely lived out.\n\nAs I glance back to the Hampshire Highlands of the dear old Berkshire\nHills in Massachusetts, where my father worked as a farmer among the\nrooks for twenty years to pay off a mortgage of twelve hundred dollars\nupon his little farm, my elder brother and myself slept in the attic\nwhich had one window in the gable end, composed of four lights and\nthose very small. I remember that attic so distinctly now, with the\nears of corn hung by the husks on the bare rafters, the rats running\nover the floor and sometimes over the faces of the boys; the patter of\nthe rain upon the roof, and the whistle of the wind around that gable\nend, the sifting of the snows through the hole in the window over\nthe pillow on our bed. While these things may appear very simple and\nhomely before this great audience, yet I mention them because in this\nhouse I had a glimpse of the first great man I ever saw. It was far in\nthe country, far from the railroad, far from the city, yet into\nthat region there came occasionally a man or woman whose name is a\nhousehold word in the world. In those mountains of my boyhood there\nwas then an \"underground railroad\" running from Virginia to Canada.\nIt was called an \"underground railroad,\" although it was a system\nby which the escaped slaves from Virginia came into Delaware, from\nDelaware into Philadelphia, then to New York, then to Springfield, and\nfrom Springfield my father took the slaves by night to Worthington,\nMass., and they were sent on by St. Albans, over the Canada line into\nliberty. This \"underground railroad\" system was composed of a chain of\nmen of whom my father was one link. One night my father drove up in\nthe dark, and my elder brother and I looked out to see who it was he\nhad! brought home with him. We supposed he had brought a slave whom he\nwas helping to escape. Oh, those dreary, dark days, when we were\nin continual dread lest the United States Marshal should arrest my\nfather, throw him into prison for thus assisting these fugitive\nslaves. The gloomy memory of those early years chills me now. But as\nwe gazed out that dark night, we saw that it was a white man with\nfather and who helped unhitch the horses and put them in the barn. In\nthe morning this white man sat at the breakfast table and my father\nintroduced him to us, saying: \"Boys, this is Frederick Douglass, the\ngreat colored orator,\" While I looked at him, giggling as boys will\ndo, Mr. Douglass turned to us and said, \"Yes, boys, I am a colored\nman; my mother was a colored woman and my father a white man,\" and\nsaid he, \"I have never seen my father, and I do not know much about\nmy mother. I remember her once when she interfered between me and the\noverseer, who was whipping me, and she received the lash upon her\ncheek and shoulder, and her blood ran across my face. I remember\nwashing her blood from my face and clothes.\" That story made a deep\nimpression on us boys, stamped indelibly on our memories. Frederick\nDouglass is thus mentioned to illustrate the subject that I have come\nto teach to-night. He frequently came to our house after that and my\nmother often said to him, \"Mr. Douglass, you will work yourself to\ndeath,\" but he replied that until the slaves were free, and that would\nbe very soon, he must devote his life to them. But after that, said\nhe, \"I will retire to Rochester, New York, where I have some land and\nwill build a house.\" He told us how many rooms it would have, what\ndecorations would be there, but when the war had been over several\nyears, he came to the house again and my father asked him about the\nhouse in Rochester. \"Well,\" he said, \"I have not built that one yet,\nbut I have my plans for it. I have some work yet to do; I must take\ncare of the freedmen in the South, and look after their financial\nprosperity, then I will build my cottage.\" You all remember that he\nnever built his house, but suddenly went on into the unknown of the\ngreatest work of his life.\n\nI remember that in 1852, my father came with another man who was put\nfor the night into the northwest bedroom--this is the room where those\nNew Englanders always put their friends, because, perhaps, pneumonia\ncomes there first--that awful, cold, dismal, northwest bedroom.\nThinking a favorite uncle had come, I went to the door early in the\nmorning. The door was shut--one of those doors which, if you lift\nthe latch, the door immediately swings open. I lifted the latch and\nprepared to leap in to awaken my uncle and astonish him by my early\nmorning greeting. But when the door swung back, I glanced toward the\nbed. The astonishment chills me at this moment, for in that bed was\nnot my uncle; but a giant, whose toes stood up at the foot-board,\nand whose long hair was spread out over the pillow and his long gray\nwhiskers lay on the bed clothes, and oh, that snore--it sounded like\nsome steam horn. That giant figure frightened me and I rushed out\ninto the kitchen and said, \"Mother, who is that strange man in the\nnorthwest bed room?\" and she said, \"Why, that is John Brown.\" I had\nnever seen John Brown before, although my father had been with him\nin the wool business in Springfield. I had heard some strange things\nabout John Brown, and the figure of the man made them seem doubly\nterrible. I hid beside my mother, where I said I would stay until the\nman was through his breakfast, but father came out and demanded that\nthe boys should come in, and he set me right under the wing of that\nawful giant. But when John Brown saw us coming in so timidly, he\nturned to us with a smile so benign and beautiful and so greatly in\ncontrast to what we had pictured him, that it was a transition. He\nbecame to us boys one of the loveliest men we ever knew. He would go\nto the barn with us and milk the cows, pitch the hay from the hay-mow;\nhe drove the cattle to water for us, and told us many a story, until\nthe dear, good old man became one of the treasurers of our life. It is\ntrue that my mother thought he was half crazy, and consequently she\nand father did not always agree about him, and did not discuss him\nbefore the children. But nevertheless, be he a crank, or a fanatic,\nor what he may, one thing is sure, the richest milk of human kindness\nflowed from that heart and devoted itself sincerely to the uplift of\nhumanity. I remember him with love, love deep and sacred, up to this\npresent time. However great an extremist John Brown was, there were\nmany of them in New England. Wendell Phillips, William Lloyd Garrison\nand John Brown never could agree. John Brown used to criticise Wendell\nPhillips severely. He said that Wendell Phillips could not see to read\nthe clearest signs of revolution, and he was reminded by the husband\nwho bought a grave-stone that had been carved for another woman, but\nthe stone-cutter said \"That has the name of another person.\" \"Oh,\"\nsaid the widower, \"that makes no difference; my wife couldn't read.\"\nJohn Brown once said of Wm. Lloyd Garrison that he couldn't see the\npoint and was like the woman who never could see a joke. One morning,\nseated at the breakfast table, her husband cracked a joke, but she did\nnot smile, when he said, \"Mary, you could not see a joke if it were\nfired at you from a Dalgreen gun,\" whereupon she remarked: \"Now John,\nyou know they do not fire jokes out of a gun.\" Well do I recall that\nDecember 2d of 1859. Only a few weeks before John Brown came to our\nhouse and my father subscribed to the purchase of rifles to aid in the\nattempt to raise the insurrection among the slaves. The last time I\nsaw John Brown he was in the wagon with my father. Father gave him the\nreins and came back as though he had forgotten something. John Brown\nsaid, \"Boys, stay at home; stay at home! Now, remember, you may never\nsee me again,\" and then in a lower voice, \"And I do not think you ever\nwill see me again,\" but \"Remember the advice of your Uncle Brown (as\nwe called him), and stay at home with the old folks, and remember\nthat you will be more blessed here than anywhere else on earth.\" The\nhappiest place on earth for me is still at my old home in Litchfield,\nConnecticut. I did not understand him then, but on December 2d at\neleven o'clock my father called us all into the house and all that\nhour from eleven to twelve o'clock we sat there in perfect silence. As\nthe old clock in that kitchen struck eleven, I heard the bell, ring\nfrom the Methodist Church, its peal coming up the valley, from hill to\nhill, and echoing its sad tone as the hour wore on. The peal of that\nbell remains with me now; it has ever been a source of inspiration to\nme. Sixty times struck that old bell. Once a minute, and when the\nlong sad hour was over, father put his Bible upon the mantel and went\nslowly out, and we all solemnly followed, going to our various duties.\nThat solemn hour had a voice in the coming great Civil War of 1861-65.\nAt that hour John Brown was hanged in Virginia. All through New\nEngland, they kept that hour with the same solemn services which\ncharacterized my father's family. When the call came for volunteers\nthe young men of New England enlisted in the army, and sang again and\nagain, that old song, \"John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave,\nbut his soul goes marching on.\" His soul is still marching on. And\nwhile I am one of those who would be the first to resist any attempt\nto mar the sweet fraternity that now characterises the feeling between\nthe North and South, as I believe that the Southern soldier fought\nfor what he believed to be right, and consequently is entitled to our\nfraternal respect, and while I believe that John Brown was sometimes a\nfanatic, yet this illustration teaches us this great lesson and that\nJohn Brown's advice was true. His happiest days were passed far back\nin the quiet of his old home.\n\nNear to our home, in the town of Cummington, lived William Cullen\nBryant, one of the great poets of New England. He came back there to\nspend his summers among the mountains he so clearly loved. He promised\nthe people of Cummington that he would again make his permanent home\nthere. I remember asking him if he would come clown to the stream\nwhere he wrote \"Thanatopsis\" and recite it for us. The good, old\nneighbor, white haired and trembling, came down to the banks of that\nlittle stream and stood in the shade of the same old maple where he\nhad written that beautiful poem, and read from the wonderful creation\nthat made his name famous.\n\n  \"So live that when thy summons comes, to join\n  The innumerable caravan which moves\n  To that mysterious realm where each must take\n  His chamber in the silent halls of death,\n  Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,\n  Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed\n  By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave\n  Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch\n  About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"I will come back to Cummington.\" So he went to Europe\nbut came not back to occupy that home. He loved the old home. We were\ndriving by his place one day when we saw him planting apple trees in\nJuly. We all know that apple trees won't grow when planted in July, so\nmy father, knowing him well, called to him and said, \"Mr. Bryant, what\nare you doing there? They won't grow.\" Mr. Bryant paused a moment and\nlooked at us, and then said half playfully: \"Conwell, drive on, you\nhave no part nor lot in this matter. I do not expect these trees to\ngrow; I am setting them out because I want to live over again the days\nwhen my father used to set trees when they would grow. I want to renew\nthat memory.\" He was wise, for in his work on \"The Transmigration of\nRaces\" he used that experience wonderfully.\n\nIn 1860, when we were teaching school, my elder brother and myself, in\nBlanchford, Massachusetts, were asked to go to Brooklyn with the body\nof a lady who died near our schools. We went to Brooklyn on Saturday\nand after the funeral, our friends asked us to stay over Sunday,\nsaying that they would take us to hear Henry Ward Beecher! That was a\ngreat inducement, because my father read the \"Tribune\" every Sunday\nmorning after his Bible (and sometimes before it) and what Henry Ward\nBeecher said, my father thought, \"was law and Gospel.\" Sunday night,\nwe went to Plymouth Church, and there was a crowd an hour before the\nservice, and when the doors were opened we were crowded up the stairs.\nWe boys were thrust back into a dirty corner where we could not\nsee. Oh, yes, that is the way they treat the boys, put them any\nplace--they're only boys! I remember the disappointment of that night,\nwhen we went there more to see than hear. But finally Mr. Beecher came\nout and gave out his text. I remember that I did not pay very much\nattention to it. In the middle of the sermon Mr. Beecher began in the\nstrangest way to auction off a woman: \"How much am I offered for the\nwoman?\" he yelled, and while in his biographies, they have said that\nthis woman was sold in the Broadway Tabernacle, but I afterwards asked\nMrs. Beecher and she said that Mr. Beecher had not sold this woman\ntwice, so far as she knew, but that she recalled distinctly the sale\nin the Plymouth Church. I remember standing up on tip-toes to look\nfor that woman that was being sold. After he had finished, after the\nsinging of the hymn, he said \"Brethren, be seated,\" and then said,\n\"Sam, come here.\" A colored boy came up tremblingly and stood beside\nhim. \"This boy is offered for $770.00; he is owned in South Carolina\nand has run away. His master offers him to me for $770.00, and now if\nthe officers of the church will pass the plates the boy shall be set\nfree,\" and when the plates were returned over $1700.00 came in. As we\nwent our way home I said to my elder brother: \"Oh, what a grand thing\nit must be to preach to a congregation of fifteen hundred people.\" But\nmy elder brother very wisely said: \"You don't know anything about it;\nyou do not know whether he is happy or not.\" \"Well,\" I suggested,\n\"wasn't it a strange thing to introduce a public auction in the middle\nof a sermon,\" and my elder brother again said that if they did more\nof that in a country church they would have a larger congregation.\nAfterwards I was quite fortunate to know Mr. Beecher and frequently\nreported his sermons. I often heard him say that the happiest years\nhe ever knew were back in Lawrenceville, Ohio, in that little church\nwhere there were no lamps and he had to borrow them himself, light\nthem himself, and prepare the church for the first service. He told\nhow he swept the church, lighted the fire in the stove, and how it\nsmoked; then how he sawed the wood to heat the church, and how he went\ninto carpenter work to earn money to pay his own salary, yet he\nsaid that was the happiest time of his life. Mrs. Beecher told me\nafterwards that Mr. Beecher often talked about those days and said\nthat bye and bye he would retire and they would again go back to the\nsimple life they had enjoyed so much.\n\nWhen he had built his new home near the Hudson, Robert Collier and I\nvisited him. We found in the rear of an addition that clap-boards had\nbeen put up in all sorts of adjustment. Mr. Collier asked him: \"Where\ndid you find a carpenter to do such poor work as that?\" and Mr.\nBeecher said humorously: \"You could not hire that carpenter on your\nhouse.\" Then he said: \"Mr. Collier, I put those boards on that house\nmyself. I insisted that they leave that work for me to do. I have been\nhappy putting on these boards and driving these nails. They took me\nback to the old days at Lawrenceville, where we lived over a store\nand our pantry was a dry goods box. But there we were so happy. I am\nhoping sometime to be as happy again, but it is not possible to do it\nwhile I am in the service of the public.\" He had promised himself and\nhis wife some day to go back to that simple life. But his sudden death\ntaught the same great lesson with all the examples I give of great men\nand women. Rev. Robt. Collier always enjoyed the circus--the circus\nwas the great place of enjoyment outside, perhaps, of his pulpit work.\nIt was Robert Collier who used to tell the story of the boy whose aunt\nalways made him go to church, but after going to a circus he wrote to\nhis aunt: \"Auntie, if you had ever been to a circus, you wouldn't go\nto another prayer-meeting as long as you live.\" The love of Collier\nfor the circus only shows the simplicity of the great man's mind. Mr.\nCollier is said to have paid a dollar for a fifty cent ticket to the\ncircus, only making it conditional that he was to have the privilege\nof going 'round to the rear and crawling under the tent, showing what\nhe must have done when a boy. The fact of Mr. Collier's love for the\ncircus was one of the strange things in the eccentricities of a great\nman's life. Once Mr. Barnum came into Mr. Collier's church and Mr.\nCollier said to the usher: \"Please show Mr. Barnum to a front seat\nfor he always gives me one in _his_ circus.\" These simplicities often\nshow that somewhere back in each man's life there is a point where\nhappiness and love are one, and when, that point is passed, we go on\nlonging to the return.\n\nThe night after he went to hear Henry Ward Beecher's great sermon they\npersuaded us to stay until the following Monday night, because there\nwas to be a lecture at the Cooper Institute and there was to be a\nparade of political clubs, and fire works, so as country boys, easily\ninfluenced, we decided that the school could wait for another day, and\nstaid for the procession. We went to Cooper's Institute and there\nwas a crowd as there was at Beecher's church. We finally got on the\nstairway and far in the rear of the great crowd, but my brother stood\non the floor, and I sat on the ledge of the window sill, with my feet\non his shoulders, so he held me while I told him down there what was\ngoing on over yonder. The first man that came on the platform, and\npresided at that meeting, was William Cullent Bryant, our dear old\nneighbor. When we boys in a strange city saw that familiar face, oh,\nthe emotions that arose in our hearts! How proud we were at that hour,\nthat he, our neighbor, was presiding on that occasion. He took his\nseat on the stage, the right of which was left vacant for some one yet\nto come. Next came a very heavy man, but immediately following him\na tall, lean man. Mr. Bryant arose and went toward him, bowing and\nsmiling. He was an awkward specimen of a man and all about me people\nwere asking \"Who is that?\" but no man seemed to know. I asked a\ngentleman who that man was, but he said he didn't know. He was an\nawkward specimen indeed; one of the legs of his trousers was up about\ntwo inches above his shoe; his hair was dishevelled and stuck out like\nrooster's feathers; his coat was altogether too large for him in the\nback, his arms much longer than the sleeves, and with his legs twisted\naround the rungs of the chair, was the picture of embarrassment. When\nMr. Bryant arose to introduce the speaker of that evening, he was\nknown seemingly to few in that great hall. Mr. Bryant said: \"Gentlemen\nof New York, you have your favorite son in Mr. Seward and if he were\nto be President of the United States, every one of us would be proud\nof him.\" Then came great applause. \"Ohio has her favorite son in Judge\nWade; and the nation would prosper under his administration, but\nGentlemen of New York, it is a great honor that is conferred upon me\nto-night, for I can introduce to you the next President of the United\nStates, Abraham Lincoln.\" Then through that audience flew the query as\nto whom Abraham Lincoln was. There was but weak applause. Mr. Lincoln\nhad in his hand a manuscript. He had written it with great care and\nexactness and the speech which you read in his biography is the one\nthat he wrote, not the one that he delivered as I recall it, and it is\nfortunate for the country that they did print the one that he wrote. I\nthink the one he wrote had already been set up in type that afternoon\nfrom his manuscript, and consequently they did not go over it to see\nwhether it had been changed or not. He had read three pages and had\ngone on to the fourth when he lost his place and then he began to\ntremble and stammer. He then turned it over two or three times, threw\nthe manuscript upon the table, and, as they say in the west, \"let\nhimself go.\" Now the stammering man who had created only silent\nderision up to that point, suddenly flashed out into an angel of\noratory and the awkward arms and dishevelled hair were lost sight\nof entirely in the wonderful beauty and lofty inspiration of that\nmagnificent address. The great audience immediately began to follow\nhis thought, and when he uttered that quotation from Douglass, \"It is\nwritten on the sky of America that the slaves shall some day be free,\"\nhe had settled the question that he was to be the next President\nof the United States. The applause was so-great that the building\ntrembled and I felt the windows shake behind me. Afterward, as we\nwalked home, I said to my elder brother again, \"Wasn't it a great\nthing to be introduced to all those people as the next President of\nthe United States?\" and my elder brother very wisely said: \"You do not\nknow whether he was really happy or not.\" Afterwards, in 1864, when\none of my soldiers was unjustly sentenced and his gray-haired mother\nplead with me to use what influence I would have with the President, I\nwent to Washington and told the story to the President. He said he\nhad heard something about it from Mr. Stanton, and he said he would\ninvestigate the matter, and he did afterward decide that the man\nshould not be put to death. At the close of that interview I said to\nthe President: \"I beg your pardon, Mr. Lincoln, but is it not a most\nexhausting thing to sit here hearing all these appeals and have all of\nthis business on your hands?\" He laid his head on his hand, and in a\nsomewhat wearied manner, said, with a deep sigh: \"Yes, yes; no man\nought to be ambitious to be President of the United States,\" and said\nhe, \"When this war is over, and that won't be very long, I tell my\n\"Tad\" that we will go back to the farm where I was happier as a boy\nwhen I dug potatoes at twenty-five cents a day than I am now; I tell\nhim I will buy him a mule and a pony and he shall have a little cart\nand he shall make a little garden in a field all his own,\" and the\nPresident's face beamed as he arose from his chair in the delight of\nexcitement as he said: \"Yes, I will be far happier than I have ever\nbeen here.\" The next time I looked in the face of Abraham Lincoln was\nin the east room of the White House at Washington as he lay in his\ncoffin. Not long ago at a Chautauqua lecture I was on the very farm\nwhich he bought at Salem, Illinois, and looked around the place where\nhe had resolved to build a mansion, but which was never constructed.\n\nNear my home in the Berkshires, Charles Dudley Warner was born. When\nhe had accomplished great things in literature and had written \"My\nSummer in a Garden,\" that popular work which attracted the attention\nof his newspaper friends, he went to Hartford, where the latter gave\nhim a banquet. I was invited to attend and report it for the public\npress. They lauded him and said how beautiful it was to be so elevated\nabove his fellow men, and how great he was in the estimation of the\nworld But he in his answer to the toast said, \"Gentlemen, I wish for\nno fame, I desire no glory and you have made a mistake if you think\nI enjoy any such notoriety. I envy the Hartford teacher whose smile\nthrew sunshine along her pathway.\" Then he told us the story of a poor\nlittle boy, cold and barefooted, standing on the street on a terribly\ncold day. A lady came along, and looking kindly at him, said, \"Little\nboy, are you cold?\" The little fellow, looking up into her face, said,\n\"Yes Ma'am, I was cold till you smiled.\" He would rather have a smile\nlike that and the simple love of his fellow men than to have all the\nfame of the earth. He was honored in all parts of the world by the\ngreatest of the great, yet he was a sad man when he wrote \"My Summer\nin a Garden,\" and it all seems a mystery how he could in such grief\nhave written that remarkable little tale. This sadness is often\nassociated with humorists. Mr. Shaw was one of the saddest men I\never met. Why, he cried on the slightest occasion. I went one day to\ninterview him in Boston, and Mr. Shepard, his publisher, said \"Please\ndon't trouble Josh Billings now.\" \"What is the matter?\" \"Oh, he is\ncrying again,\" said Mr. Shepard. I asked him how Mr. Shaw could write\nsuch funny things as he did. He then showed me the manuscript (which\nMr. Shaw had just placed on his desk and which he had just written),\nin which he says, \"I do not know any cure for laziness, but I have\nknown a second wife to hurry it up some.\" Artemus Ward wrote the most\nlaughable things while his heart was in the deepest wretchedness.\nOften these glimpses of the funny men whose profession would seem to\nshow them to be the happiest of earth's people, prove that they are\nsometimes the most gloomy and miserable.\n\nJohn B. Gough, the great temperance orator, the greatest the world has\never seen, said to me one evening at his home that he would lecture\nfor forty years, and then would stop. But his wife said, \"Now, John,\nyou know you won't give it up.\" He assented, \"Yes, I will.\" But his\nwife said, \"No you won't. You men when you drink of public life find\nit like a drink of whiskey, and you are just like the rest of the\nmen.\" \"No,\" said he. Then Mr. Gough told again his familiar story of\nthe minister who was preaching in his pulpit in Boston when he saw the\nGovernor of the State coming up the aisle. Immediately he began to\nstammer, and finally said: \"I see the Governor coming in, and as I\nknow you will want to hear an exhortation from him, I think that I had\nbetter stop.\" Then one of the old officials leaped up from one of the\nfront seats and said, \"I insist upon your going on with your sermon,\nsir; you ought not be embarrassed by the Governor's coming in. We are\nall worms! All worms! nothing but worms!\" Then the minister was\nangry and shouted: \"Sir, I would have you understand that there is\na difference in worms.\" Mr. Gough said he was different from other\npeople yet the years came and went, and he stayed on the public\nplatform. One night a committee from Frankford, Philadelphia, asked me\nto write him and ask him to lecture for them. I wrote and whether my\ninfluence had anything to do with it or not, I do not know, but he\ncame from New York and when he was in about the middle of his lecture,\nhe came to that sentence, \"Young man, keep your record clear, for a\nsingle glass of intoxicating liquor may somewhere, in after years,\nchange into a horrid monster that shall carry you down to woe.\" And\nwhen he had uttered that wonderful sentence of advice, he slopped to\nget breath, reached for a drink of water, swung forward and fell over.\nThe doctor said he was too late for any earthly aid, and John B.\nGough, with his armor on, went on into Glory. He never found that\nearthly rest he had promised himself. His garden never showed its\nflowers, and his fields were never strewn with grain.\n\nWhen our regiment was encamped in Faneuil Hall at Boston before\nembarking for the war in 1863, Mr. Wendell Phillips sent an invitation\nto the officers of the regiment to visit his home. But when we reached\nhis house we found that he had been called to Worcester suddenly to\nmake a speech. But we found his wife there in her rolling chair, for\nshe was a permanent invalid. Our evening was spent very pleasantly,\nbut I said to her: \"Are you not very lonesome when Mr. Phillips is\naway so much?\" \"Yes,\" she said, \"I am very lonesome; he is father,\nmother, brother, sister, husband and child to me,\" and said she, \"he\ncares for me with the tenderness of a mother; he waits upon me, he\ntakes me out, and brings me in; he dresses me, and it now seems so\nstrange that he is not by my side. If it were not for him, I should\ndie, but he says that as soon as the slaves are free that he will come\nback and be the same husband he was before.\" The officers standing\naround me smiled as they heard of his promise to retire, but said she,\n\"Oh, yes, he will do as he promised.\" When the war was over and the\nslaves were free, and he had scolded General Grant all he wished, he\ndid do as he promised, and did retire. He sold his house in the city\nand bought one in Waverly, Massachusetts. He did prove the exception\nand went back to the private life that he had promised himself and\nhis wife. Every Sunday morning as I drove by his home I could see him\nswinging on his gate. It was a double gate over the driveway, and he\nwould pull that gate far in, get on it and then swing way out over the\nside-walk and then in again. Well, he used to swing on that gate every\nSunday morning, and my family wondered why it was that he always did\nit on that particular morning. One Sunday morning when I drove by,\nI found Mr. Phillips swinging on his gate over the side-walk, and I\nsaid, \"Mr. Phillips, my family wish me to ask you why you swing on\nthis gate every Sunday morning.\" Mr. Phillips, who had a very deep\nsense of humour, stepped off the gate, stood back, and assuming a\ndignified, ministerial air, \"I am requested to discourse to-day upon\nthe text 'Why I swing upon this gate on Sunday morning,' and I will,\ntherefore, divide my text into two heads.\" I quickly told him that I\nmust get to church some time that day. \"Then,\" said he, with a smile,\n\"just one word more: Why do I swing on a gate? Because the first time\nI saw my wife she was swinging on the gate, and the second time I saw\nher, we kissed each other over the top of the gate, and when I swing\nit reminds me of other happy days long gone by. That, sir, is the\nreason I swing upon this gate.\" Then his humor all disappeared and he\nsaid: \"I really swing upon this gate on Sunday morning because I think\nthe next thing to the love of God is love of man for a true woman--as\nyou cannot say you love God and hate your brother, neither can you say\nyou love God unless you have first loved a human being, and I swing on\nthis gate on Sunday morning because to me it is next to life's highest\nworship.\" And then, in a majestic manner, he said, \"Conwell, all\nwithin this gate is PARADISE and all without it MARTYRDOM.\" In that\nwonderful sentence, which I feel sure I recall accurately, he uttered\nthe most glorious expression that could ever come from uninspired\nlips.\n\nI had a glimpse of James G. Elaine when I went to his home in Augusta,\nMaine, to write his biography for the committee. A day or two after it\nwas finished a distinguished Senator from Washington came to see me in\nPhiladelphia and asked if Mr. Blaine had seen the book, and I told him\nthat he certainly had. \"Did he see that second chapter?\" \"Of course he\ndid,\" said I; \"he corrected it.\" Then he wanted to know how much money\nit would take to get the book out of circulation. \"Why, what is the\nmatter with the book,\" said I, but he would not tell me, and said that\nhe would pay me well if I would only keep the book from circulation.\nHe did not tell me what was the matter. I told him that the publishers\nowned the copyright, having bought it from me. He said, \"Is it not\npossible for you to take a trip to Europe to-morrow morning?\" \"But why\ntake a trip to Europe?\" \"The committee will pay all of your expenses,\nall your family's expenses, and of any servants you wish lo take with\nyou--only get out of the country.\" \"Well,\" I said, \"I am not going to\nleave the country for my country's good, unless I know what I am going\nfor.\" I never could find out what the trouble with that second chapter\nwas, and I afterwards asked Mrs. Blaine if she knew what was the\nmatter. She then broke out in a paroxysm of grief and said that if he\nhad stayed in Washington, Pennsylvania, where he was a teacher, \"he\nwould be living yet.\" She said \"he had given thirty years of his life\nto the public service, and now they have so ungratefully disgraced his\nname, sent him to an early grave, and all in consequence of what he\nhas done for the public. He is a stranger to his country--a stranger\nto his friends,\" and then she said, \"O would to God he had stayed in\nPennsylvania!\" I left her then, but I have never known what was in\nthat second chapter that caused the disturbance. But I do know\nthe second chapter was concerning their early and happy life in\nWashington, Pennsylvania, where he taught in the college.\n\nNear our home in Newton, Massachusetts, was that of F.F. Smith, who\nwrote \"America.\" It was of him that Oliver Wendell Holmes said that\n\"Nature tried to hide him by naming him Smith.\" Smith lived that quiet\nand restful life that reminds one of Tennyson's \"Brook\" when thinking\nof him. He knew the glory of modest living.\n\nThe last time I saw the sweet Quaker poet, John Greenleaf Whittier,\nwas in Amesbury, before he died. He sent a note to the lecture hall\nasking me to come to come to him. I asked him what was his favorite\npoem of his own writing. He said he had not thought very much about\nit, but said that there was one that he especially remembered:\n\n  \"I know not where His islands lift\n     Their fronded palms in air,\n  I only know I cannot drift\n     Beyond His love and care.\"\n\nI then asked him, \"Mr. Whittier, how could you write all those war\nsongs which sent us young men to war, and you a peaceful Quaker? I\ncannot understand it.\" He smiled and said that his great-grandfather had\nbeen on a ship that was attacked by pirates, and as one of the pirates\nwas climbing up the rope into their ship, his great-grandfather\ngrasped a knife and cut the rope, saying: \"If thee wants the rope,\nthee can have it.\" He said that he had inherited something of the same\nspirit.\n\nAt Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, Bayard Taylor took me to the grave of\nhis wife, and said \"Here is the spot where I determined to live anew.\nFrom this grave the real experiences of my life began.\" There he was\ncompleting his home called \"Cedar Croft.\" But he died while U.S.\nMinister to Germany. The Young Men's Congress of Boston, when\narranging for a great memorial service in Tremont Temple, asked me to\ncall on Dr. Oliver Wendel Holmes to ask him to write a poem on Bayard\nTaylor's death. When I asked Mr. Holmes to write this poem, to be read\nin the Tremont Temple, he was sitting on the rocking chair. He rocked\nback and kicked up his feet, and began to laugh. \"I write a poem on\nBayard Taylor--ah, no--but I tell you, if you will get Mr. Longfellow\nto write a poem on Bayard Taylor's death, I will read it.\" These\nthings only show the eccentricities of Mr. Holmes. So I went to Mr.\nLongfellow and told him what Dr. Holmes had said, and here is the poem\nhe wrote:\n\n  \"Dead he lay among his books!\n  The peace of God was in his looks.\n  As the statues in the gloom\n  Watch o'er Maximilian's tomb,\n  So those volumes from their shelve.\n  Watched him, silent as themselves.\n  Ah, his hand will never more\n  Turn their storied pages o'er.\n  Never more his lips repeat\n  Songs of theirs, however sweet.\n  Let the lifeless body rest!\n  He is gone who was its guest.\n  Gone as travellers haste to leave\n  An inn, nor tarry until eve.\n\n  \"Traveller! in what realms afar,\n  In what planet, in what star,\n  In what gardens of delight\n  Rest thy weary feet to-night?\n  Poet, thou whose latest verse\n  Was a garland on thy hearse,\n  Thou hast sung with organ tone\n  In Deukalion's life thine own.\n  On the ruins of the Past\n  Blooms the perfect flower, at last\n  Friend, but yesterday the bells\n  Rang for thee their loud farewells;\n  And to-day they toll for thee,\n  Lying dead beyond the sea;\n  Lying dead among thy books;\n  The peace of God in all thy looks.\"\n\nThat great traveller, like Mr. Longfellow, used to tell me of his\nfirst wife. He always said that her sweet spirit occupied that room\nand stood by him. I often told him that he was wrong and argued with\nhim, but he said, \"I know she is here.\" I often thought of the great\ninspiration she had been to him in his marvelous poems and books.\nPoor Bayard Taylor, \"In what gardens of delight, rest thy weary feet\nto-night?\" Mr. Longfellow once said that Mary \"stood between him and\nhis manuscript,\" and he could not get away from the impression that\nshe was with him all the time. How sad was her early death and how he\nsuffered the martyrdom of the faithful! Longfellow's home life was\nalways beautiful But his later years were disturbed greatly by\nsouvenir and curiosity seekers.\n\nHorace Greeley died of a broken heart because he was not elected\nPresident of the United States, and never was happy in the last years\nof his life. His idea of true happiness was to go to some quiet\nretreat and publish some little paper. He once declared at a dinner in\nBrooklyn that he envied the owner of a weekly paper in Indiana whose\npaper was so weakly that the subscribers did not miss it if it failed\nto appear.\n\nMr. Tennyson told me that he would not exchange his home, walled in as\nit was like a fortress for Windsor Castle or the throne of the Queen.\n\nMr. Carnegie said to me only a few months ago that if a man owned his\nhome and had his health he had all the money that man needed to be as\nhappy as any person can be. Mr. Carnegie was right about that.\n\nEmpress Eugenie, in 1870, was said to be the happiest woman in France.\nI saw her in the Tuilleres at a gorgeous banquet and a few years\nafter, when her husband had been captured, her son killed and she was\na widow, at the Chislehurst Cottage, I said to her, \"The last time\nI saw you in that beautiful palace you were said to be the happiest\nwoman in the world.\" \"Sir,\" she said, \"I am far happier now than I was\nthen.\" It was a statement that for a long time I could not understand.\n\nI caught a glimpse of Garibaldi weeping because he did not go back\nwith his wife, Anita, to South America.\n\nI visited Charles Dickens at his home and asked him to come to America\nagain and read from his books, but Mr. Dickens said \"No, I will never\ncross the ocean; I will not go even to London. When I die, I am to be\nburied out there on the lawn,\" and he pointed out the place to me. A\nfew weeks later I hired a custodian to let me in early at the rear\ngate of Westminster Abbey, for Parliament had changed Mr. Dickens's\nwill in one respect, and provided that he should not be buried on the\nlawn of his cottage, but instead in Westminster Abbey, but they made\nno other change in his will. There I looked on the fifteen men, all\nwhom the will allowed to be present at his funeral, who were bearing\nall that was mortal of Charles Dickens to his rest, and I heard Dean\nStanley say \"While Mr. Dickens lived, his loss was our gain; but\nnow his gain is our loss.\" When he uttered that great truth, very\ncondensed, in that beautiful language, he showed that human life in\nthe public service of one's fellow men may be nothing more or less\nthan continual sacrifice.\n\nMy friends, if you are called to public service; if you have influence\nthat you can use for the public good, do not hesitate to go if you are\nSURE that DUTY calls you. But if, instead, no voice of God, no call of\nmankind, doth require that you go out and give up the best of life for\nyour fellows, remember how fortunate you are. If you can go to your\nhome at evening and read your paper in peace, and rest undisturbed,\ndo so, and remember that you have reached the very height of personal\nhappiness. Then seek no farther, count thyself happy and go no farther\nthan God shall call you. For the happiest man is not famous, nor\nrich, but he who hath his loved ones in an undisturbed peace around.\nRemember what Wendell Phillips said, \"All within this gate is\nParadise; all without it is MARTYDROM.\"\n\nI had a glimpse of Generals Grant and Sheridan wrestling like boys,\nover a box of cigars sent into General Grant's tent. They were boys\nagain.\n\nI had a glimpse of Li-Hung Chang at Nanking, China, at an execution by\nbeheading, and a glimpse of him an hour later playing leap frog with\nhis grandchildren. Childhood was a joy, manhood a tragedy.","title":"Russell H. Conwell, founder of the Institutional church in America : $b the work and the man","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":99818}