reality of
detail that the whole congregation accompanied him with his
lamentations and regrets. Whenever I lifted my head after one of
Brother I's prayers, I felt better, like a child who has taken some
great Elder Person into its confidence.

While I am on this subject of prayer, I must not forget an incident
connected with Brother A. He was the most belligerent looking peaceful
man I ever saw. His brows were black and so thick they amounted to
whiskers above his large pale blue eyes. He wore a military moustache
of the same color and preferred to talk through his teeth. And aside
from being very prosperous and a good friend, his distinction was that
he knew how to _do_ the will of his Father with as much directness and
dispatch as if it had been an ordinary business proposition. If
William wanted the church moved off a side street in a hollow, he was
the man who could drag it a quarter of a mile and set it on a hill,
yoked up, of course, with as many other stewards as he could get. If
there was anything to be done he could do it, and in the right spirit.
But he was one of God's dumb saints. He had faith and he had works,
but he couldn't pray, that is, not in public. This led to the incident
to which I have already referred.

We had just come to Celestial Bells, and seeing Brother A so active,
like a pillar of cloud and fire, in the church, we did not suspect his
other-world muteness. William was closing his first Sunday night
service. The congregation was large and in the front midst of it sat
Brother A. Immediately behind him sat Brother B, a fluent and
enthusiastic steward. I was in the Amen Corner as usual, because it is
only from this vantage ground that a preacher's wife can keep her eye
properly upon his congregation and be able to estimate the causes and
effects of his discourse. I have sometimes suspected, indeed, that
better saints occupy this Amen Corner for a less excusable curiosity
about the doings in the congregation. William closed the hymn-book,
looked out over the blur of faces before him, and said:

"Brother A will lead us in prayer."

If he had suddenly struck a short circuit and let loose a flash of
electricity in the house the shock would not have been more
perceptible. Everybody knew that Brother A could not lead in prayer,
except William, who was already on his knees with closed eyes and the
Patmos look on his blind face. Every head was bowed except those of
Brother A and