he liquor business on
the lives of men and women like this one. Raymond, of course, being
a railroad town and the centre of the great packing interests for
this region, is full of saloons. I caught from the minister's
remarks that he had only recently changed his views in regard to
license. He certainly made a very striking address, and yet it was
in no sense inappropriate for a funeral.

"Then followed what was perhaps the queer part of this strange
service. The women in the tent, at least a large part of them up
near the coffin, began to sing in a soft, tearful way, 'I was a
wandering sheep.' Then while the singing was going on, one row of
women stood up and walked slowly past the casket, and as they went
by, each one placed a flower of some kind upon it. Then they sat
down and another row filed past, leaving their flowers. All the time
the singing continued softly like rain on a tent cover when the wind
is gentle. It was one of the simplest and at the same time one of
the most impressive sights I ever witnessed. The sides of the tent
were up, and hundreds of people who could not get in, stood outside,
all as still as death itself, with wonderful sadness and solemnity
for such rough looking people. There must have been a hundred of
these women, and I was told many of them had been converted at the
meetings just recently. I cannot describe the effect of that
singing. Not a man sang a note. All women's voices, and so soft, and
yet so distinct, that the effect was startling.

"The service closed with another solo by Miss Winslow, who sang,
'There were ninety and nine.' And then the evangelist asked them all
to bow their heads while he prayed. I was obliged in order to catch
my train to leave during the prayer, and the last view I caught of
the service as the train went by the shops was a sight of the great
crowd pouring out of the tent and forming in open ranks while the
coffin was borne out by six of the women. It is a long time since I
have seen such a picture in this unpoetic Republic."

If Loreen's funeral impressed a passing stranger like this, it is
not difficult to imagine the profound feelings of those who had been
so intimately connected with her life and death. Nothing had ever
entered the Rectangle that had moved it so deeply as Loreen's body
in that coffin. And the Holy Spirit seemed to bless with special
power the use of this senseless clay. For that night He swept more
than a score of lost souls, mostly