owever, the
visit had an air of ceremony, and he could not decline to see these
ambassadors of heaven in his private room. The revivalist, a cheery,
shrewd man, whose powers of organization were obvious, and who seemed to
put organization before everything else, pleased Ezra Brunt at once.

'We want a specially good congregation at the opening meeting to-night,'
said the revivalist. 'Now, the basis of a good congregation must
necessarily be the regular pillars of the church, and therefore we are
making a few calls this morning to insure the presence of our chief
men--the men of influence and position. You will come, Mr. Brunt, and
you will let it be known among your employes that they will please you
by coming too?'

Ezra Brunt was by no means a regular pillar of the Bethesda, but he had
a vague sensation of flattery, and he consented; indeed, there was no
alternative.

The first hymn was being sung when he reached the chapel. To his
surprise, he found the place crowded in every part. A man whom he did
not know led him to a wooden form which had been put in the space
between the front pews and the Communion-rail. He felt strange there,
and uneasy, apprehensive.

The usual discreet somnolence of the chapel had been disturbed as by
some indecorous but formidable awakener; the air was electric; anything
might occur. Ezra was astounded by the mere volume of the singing; never
had he heard such singing. At the end of the hymn the congregation sat
down, hiding their faces in expectation. The revivalist stood erect and
terrible in the pulpit, no longer a shrewd, cheery man of the world, but
the very mouthpiece of the wrath and mercy of God. Ezra's
self-importance dwindled before that gaze, till, from a renowned magnate
of the Five Towns, he became an item in the multitude of suppliants. He
profoundly wished he had never come.

'Remember the hymn,' said the revivalist, with austere emphasis:

'"My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride."'

The admirable histrionic art with which he intensified the consonants in
the last line produced a tremendous effect. Not for nothing was this man
cerebrated throughout Methodism as a saver of souls. When, after a
pause, he raised his hand and ejaculated, 'Let us pray,' sobs could be
heard throughout the chapel. The Revival had begun.

At the end of a quarter of an hour Ezra Brunt would have given fifty
pounds to be outside, but he could not stir; he