nd comrade, lifted up his voice in thanksgiving. He prayed in
his own homely words, but with fervency and fire as though his lips had
indeed been touched with "a live coal from the altar."

"Amen!" and "Amen!" were the exclamations from all parts of the
building. Then, in a clear, full voice, he started the hymn:

"I'm not ashamed to own my Lord,
Nor to defend his cause."

The congregation quickly joined in; and as the melody of noble old
"Arlington" resounded through the building, the people left their
seats, and, filing down the aisle, each in turn grasped the hand of the
returned brother, and welcomed him again into fellowship.

Thus, like a sincere and peace-loving Christian, Hiram Gilcrest once
more took his place among his brethren, humbly and lovingly, with never
again a trace of his former spirit of prejudice and dogmatic
intolerance.

As for the various other characters of this story, little more need be
said.

Barton Stone labored for many years in various fields of usefulness in
Kentucky, Tennessee, Indiana and Missouri. In 1843 he returned for a
last visit to Cane Ridge. He was then an old man, bent and palsied, and
so feeble that he had to be helped into the pulpit; but his eyes
kindled with the old-time light, his bent form straightened with
something of the old-time vigor, and his voice became full and vibrant
as he stood facing that assembly where many seats were now occupied by
the children and grandchildren of those who in this old meetinghouse
forty years before had as a church renounced all human authoritative
voice in matters of religious worship, and had resolved that
henceforward the Bible should be their only rule of faith and practice,
and belief in Jesus as the Christ their only creed. Stone preached this
last sermon from the text of Paul's farewell to the brethren at
Ephesus, "And now behold I know that ye all among whom I have gone
preaching the kingdom of God shall see my face no more." He was truly
the old man eloquent as, standing for the last time in that pulpit, he
reviewed the past, spoke approvingly of the present, and admonished to
future zeal. He died in 1844 in Missouri, and the following spring his
remains were brought to Kentucky by the members of Cane Ridge Church,
and reinterred in the old churchyard.

Cane Ridge meeting-house is still used as a regular place of worship.
Its log walls have been weather-boarded, its clapboard roof replaced by
one of shingles, a