little beside themselves, out of their understanding, more out of their conscience, still more out of their affections. One says, "The Lord is in Chicago; a great revival of religion is going on there." Another says, "O, the Lord is in Boston; he is pouring out his Spirit here." Appeals are made to fear. "Come to Christ! There is an eternal hell for you if you do not come; an eternal heaven if you will. Come to Christ! Choose now; you may never have another opportunity. 'This night thy soul shall be required of thee’" Prayers are made for individual men, now designated by description, then by name. One obnoxious minister is singled out, and set up as a mark to be prayed at, and the petitioners riddle that target as they will. One minister asks God to convert him, and if he cannot do that, to remove him out of the way, and let his influence die with him. Another asks God to go into his study this very afternoon, and confound him, so that he shall not be able to finish the sermon—which had been writ five days before-; or else meet him the next day in his pulpit, and confound him so that he shall not be able to speak. Another prays that God will put a hook into that man's jaws so that he cannot preach. Yet another, with the spirit of commerce in him, asks God to dissuade the people from listening to this offender, and induce them to leave that house and come up and fill this. I ask a grave, decent-looking, educated minister, "What is all this?" The answer is, "Why, it is an act of religion. The Lord is in Boston; he inspires us miraculously. He has made us all of one heart, and of one mind. He hears our prayers; he gives a hearing to our petitions; he will answer our prayers; 'For the fervent, effectual prayer of the righteous man availeth much,’ It is a revival of religion; it is a great revival; it goes all over the United States; even some Unitarian ministers begin to thaw, at least, to soften. The Lord is in this house, to save the people. Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth and good will to men!"
One step more I take, into surroundings a little different. By the full moon-light, under yonder great elm,—where Mary Dyer was hanged on the first of June, 1660, for being a Quaker,—to answer his question, a young woman clasps a young man's hand—"Yes, we will be
