ained as sexton for ten years. I would not take
$10,000 for the character I received from the trustees when I resigned.
I always look back with pleasure to those good old days at the church,
the many friends we made, and the many blessings I received while
there.

It did not take us long to get the run of the place. We sent for our
boy, who was in Ireland with his mother's folks. When he came I didn't
know him, as I hadn't seen him since he was a little baby. What a
surprise it was when at my sister's house, after supper, she went into
the front room, leaving me alone in the kitchen, when a manly little
fellow came in and looked me over and said, "Hello, father, I'm your son
Willie. How are you?"

I looked at him, but couldn't say a word, for I had almost forgotten
that I had a son. I opened my arms and the boy came with a rush, threw
his arms around my neck, and said, "I love you, dad."

I want to say here that this boy has never given me any trouble and we
have been companions ever since that night. He married a good Christian
girl and is in his own home to-day.

I heard a little laugh, and there were my sister and Mary taking it all
in. I could see then that it was a put-up job, this getting me to go up
to my sister's house.

Time passed and we were doing finely. One day we heard the boy playing
the piano, and we got him a teacher. In a short time he was able to play
for the smaller classes, the juniors. Then my friend Mrs. Bainbridge got
him a better teacher. He improved rapidly, and now he is organist in the
Fifty-seventh Street Presbyterian Church.

I tell you it pays to be a Christian and on the level. If I hadn't done
anything else but give that boy a musical education, it would have paid.
I'm proud of him.

MY FIRST SERMON

I remember the first meeting I ever led. It came about like this: I had
been sexton of Sea and Land Church about four years, was growing in
grace and getting on finely. One Wednesday night the minister asked me
if I would lead the prayer-meeting the following week, as he was going
away. I told him I did not know how to lead a meeting and I was afraid
to undertake it, as I couldn't preach a sermon. "Oh, that's all right,"
he said. "I'll write out something, and all you will have to do is to
study it a little, read it over once or twice, then get up and read it
off." I told him I'd try. I'd do the best I could. So he wrote about ten
sheets of foolscap paper, all about sinners. I re