ce? Aren't they honourable men?'

"The answer to all these questions was in the affirmative.

"'But you could tell me whether it would be right for me to do it,
and--and--if I could get a letter of recommendation from you it would
help me.'

"'Why don't you ask your mother or father for advice?'

"'They are dead.'

"'Was your mother a Christian?'

"'Yes.'

"'Then get down on your knees here and lift your face to heaven. Ask
your angel mother if you would be doing right.'

"The young man's eyes fall to the floor. He toys nervously with his hat
and backs out of the hall to the door. As he turns the knob he holds out
his right-hand to the preacher and whispers:

"'I thank you for your advice. I'll not leave my present employer.'

"Now the great preacher hastily puts on a thick overcoat and, taking a
heavy walking-stick in hand, says: 'We'll go now.' He calls a cheery
'goodbye' to Mrs. Talmage and closes the big door behind him. The air is
crispy and invigorating. Once in the street the preacher throws back his
shoulders until his form is as straight as that of an Indian. His blue
eyes look out from behind a pair of shaggy eyebrows. They snap and
sparkle like a schoolboy's. The face denotes health and strength. The
preacher is fond of walking and strides along with giant steps. The
colour quickly mounts to his cheeks and reveals a face free from lines
and full of health and manly vigour. He has noted the direction that he
is to take carefully. As he walks along the street he is noticed by
everybody. His figure is a familiar one in the streets of Brooklyn.
Nearly everybody bows to him. He has a hearty 'How are you to-day?' for
all.

"Our direction lies in a thickly-populated section, not many blocks
from the water front. It is in the tenement district where dozens of
families are huddled together in one house. We pause in front of a
rickety building and stop an urchin in the hallway, who replies to the
question that we are in the right house. Then the good Doctor pulls out
of his pocket the letter he received some hours ago from the
grief-stricken young mother whose baby was ill and who asked for aid.

"Up flight after flight of stairs we go; two storeys, three, four, five.
As we reach the landing, a tidy young woman appears. She is holding her
face in her hands and sobbing to break her heart.

"'Oh, I knew you would come,' she says, as the tears roll down her
cheeks; 'I used to go to your church, and I know