The church kept filling; and while yet the people were streaming in, the minister arose, and after a brief, but exceedingly solemn invocation, gave out the hymn.  In an alcove just behind the preacher’s stand was a cabinet organ, and some half dozen singers, male and female; but once the singing had got well under way, organ and choir were as though they were not; nearly every one in the house was singing save myself and Mr. Winthrop.  I kept silent the more keenly to enjoy the heavy volume of sound which impressed me as more reverent praise than any church music I had ever heard.  I turned to Mr. Winthrop.  He too was looking over the dense mass of humanity with a curious intentness, as if here were some entirely new experience.  When the hymn was ended there was a moment’s hush after the congregation had bowed in reverent act of worship and then the preacher’s voice rose in earnest pleading.  I noticed it was better modulated than at Mrs. Blake’s funeral, possibly the effort to make himself heard by the scattered groups on that occasion caused the difference.  My eyes filled with tears, and a strange trembling seized me as the petitions grew more earnest; the prayer was short, yet so much was comprehended in it.  The Scripture lesson was read in very natural, but also solemn manner, without any attempt at rhetorical display, yet bringing out the subtle meanings of the passage in a peculiarly realistic way.  The sermon was delivered in much the same manner; but in every word and gesture there seemed a reserve power and dignity, while the thoughts were strong and original; and better than all, they made one wish to be purer, more unselfish, in fact Christ-like.

The place seemed pervaded by some mysterious influence never experienced by me before in any church.  The sermon was ended at last; the Judgment Day was the theme; all the old horror that used haunt me in childhood, when I thought upon this awful period in my soul’s future, came back to me as the preacher with a power scarce short of inspiration pictured that day.  I could hear Mrs. Flaxman’s subdued weeping while in every part of the house, tears and low sobs added to the solemnity of the scene.  Mr. Winthrop sat with folded arms and set stern face, apparently unmoved; but the intent watchfulness of his face as he followed the preacher assured me that the sermon was making an impression.  A hymn was sung when the sermon was ended, and then all who wished to remain to the after-meeting were assured of a welcome, no matter to what church they belonged, or if aliens from all.

I scarce dared lift my eyes to Mr. Winthrop lest he might be preparing to leave; but to my relief he sat calmly down along with nearly the entire congregation, and then the other meeting began first with a number of prayers, afterward with speaking by men and women all over the house.  When Mr. Bowen prayed, there was a solemn hush as if the people were almost holding their breath lest some word might be missed.  I