m and heard
him speak in my very heart." Then she went on, through the second verse
to the third. "'In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of
blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water,'" and here a
great swell of tears literally blinded her eyes. It came to her so
suddenly, so forcibly. The great multitude here at Chautauqua--blind.
Yes, some of them. Was not she? How many more might there be? Many of
whom she knew, others that she did not know, but that Jesus did. Waiting
without knowing that they were waiting. With tears and smiles, and with
a new great happiness throbbing at her heart, she read through the
sweet, simple, wonderful story; how the poor man met Jesus; how he
questioned; how the man complained; and how Jesus was greater than his
infirmity. Through the whole of it, until suddenly she closed the book,
her tears dried, and a solemn, wondering, almost awe-struck look on her
face. She had got her lesson, her directions, her example. She could
bear no more, even of the Bible, just then. She said it over, that
startling verse that came to her with a whole volume of suggestion:
"'_And the man departed and told the Jews that it was Jesus which had
made him whole._'"

CHAPTER XV.

GREAT MEN.

Ruth Erskine, with her skirts gathered daintily around her, to avoid
contact with the unclean earth, made her way skill fully through the
crowd, and with the aid of a determined spirit and a camp-chair secured
a place and a seat very near the stand. The little lady who timidly
followed in her lead was not quite so fortunate, inasmuch as she had no
camp-chair, and was less resolved in her determination to get ahead of
those who had arrived earlier; so she contented herself with a damp seat
on the end of a board, which was vacated for her use by a courteous
gentleman.

Ruth, you must understand, was not selfish in this matter because she
had planned to be, but simply because it had never occurred to her to be
otherwise, which is one of the misfortunes that come to people who are
educated in a selfish atmosphere. Ruth Erskine had come to this meeting
fully prepared to enjoy it. Dr. Cuyler was a star of sufficient
magnitude to attract her. During her frequent visits to New York she had
heard much of but had never seen him. The people whom she visited were
too elegant in their views and practices to have much in common with the
church which was so pronounced on the two great questions of rel