How did Frank Beard do it with a dull colored crayon and a half-dozen movements of his skillful arm?  How can I tell, except that God has given to the arm wondrous skill; but there appeared before that astonished multitude a foundation as of granite, and there rose from it, as if suddenly hewed out before them, a clean-cut solid shaft of gray, imperishable granite.  One more dash of the wondrous crayon and the shaft was done—­a solid cross!

Prof.  Sherwin was sitting, for want of a better position, on the floor of the stand.  It was the only available space.  He had been looking and enjoying as only men like Prof.  Sherwin can; and now, as he watched the outgrowth of this wonderful cross, as the last stroke was given that made it complete, and a sound like a subdued shout of joy and triumph murmured through the crowd, moved as by a sudden mighty impulse that he could not control, his splendid voice burst forth in the glorious words: 

    “Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
    Let me hide myself in Thee.”

And that great multitude took it up and rolled the tribute of praise down those resounding aisles until people bowed themselves, and some of them wept softly in the very excess of their joy and thanksgiving.  It was all so sudden, so unexpected; yet it was so surely the key-note to the Chautauqua heart, and fitted in so aptly with their professions and intentions.  They could play for a few minutes—­none could do it with better hearts or more utter enjoyment than these same splendid leaders—­but how surely their hearts turned back to the main thought, the main work, the main hope, in life and in death.

As for Eurie, she will not be likely to forget that sermon.  It almost overpowered her.  There came over her such a sudden and eager longing to understand the depths from whence such feeling sprung, to rest her feet on the same foundation, that for the moment her heart gave a great bound and said:  “It is worth all the self-denial and all the change of life and plans which it would involve.  I almost think I want that rather than anything else.”  That miserable “almost!” I wonder how many souls it has shipwrecked?  The old story.  If Eurie had been familiar with her Bible it would surely have reminded her of the foolish listener who said, while he trembled under the truth, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.”

Shall I tell you what came in, just then and there, to influence her decision?  It was such a miserable little thing—­nothing more than the remembrance of certain private parties that were a standing institution among “their set” at home, to meet fortnightly in each other’s parlors for a social dance.  Not a ball! oh, no, not at all.  These young ladies did not attend balls, unless occasionally a charity ball, when a very select party was made up.  Simply quiet evenings among special friends, where the special amusement was dancing.

“Dear me!” you say, “I am a Christian, and I don’t see anything wrong in dancing.  Why, I dance at private parties very often.  What was there in that thought that needed to influence her?”