en the preacher finished, the first man rose
again; Bill straightened up and looked keenly. "Yes," he thought, "he has
been a drinker all right, and a hard one; his face shows it." The speaker
was inviting men to Christ for the help they needed.

Old Bill never quite knew how it happened, but he suddenly found himself
up in front holding the stranger's hand and telling him that he wanted
help to quit drink. Side by side they knelt while the saved man earnestly
poured out his heart to God for the drunkard. Old Bill did not know how to
pray, he had never tried in his life, but he wanted help; all his soul
longed for it. He listened to the other man praying. He was asking for
just what Bill needed; his heart joined in. Yes, he wanted to quit
drinking; he wanted to be a good man, but he had to have help. The other
man prayed as though God were right close by, and Bill felt that He must
be, so he said: "Yes, God, I'll quit it if you'll help me. I'll be a man
if you'll help me, but I can't do it by myself!" That was all, but he
meant it, and he felt that God would help him. A strange, quiet peace came
into his heart, and he really felt happy. He went home sober that night.

Some of the "bunch" outside the tent had seen Bill go forward, and soon
the news was in all the saloons. "He'll be back by Saturday night," they
said. But he did not come back. Instead he was in the meeting telling the
people what wonderful things God had done for him. He did not want strong
drink any more at all, he declared. The "bunch" did not believe this. They
laughed and made many prophecies; they waited week by week, but Old Bill
came to the saloon no more. Two years passed; Bill lived a joyful
Christian life and never tired of telling what the Lord had done for him.
He went out to a country schoolhouse, where he organized a Sunday-school
and labored zealously and successfully.

There were many temptations. At first the "bunch" laughed and made him the
butt of many rude jests, then they laid plans to trap him. One day one of
them stuck an open whisky-bottle under his nose, saying, "Smell it, Bill;
ain't it a fine odor?" Bill stepped back, all smiles, and said quietly,
"Well, Tom, drink was my master a long time, but I have a better Master
now." He went on his way unobstrusively but steadily, and finally won the
respect and confidence of all.

At last the end came; Old Bill was dead. There was a peaceful smile upon
his face, for his sun had gone do