who has been "ordained" to lead them into
the Presence. They have a sense of their ruggedness, their unkempt
earthiness and their general unfitness for the great ceremony. The
preacher must hold their hands until they cross the doorsill of the
Audience Chamber.

Now, I will not say that William enjoyed officiating on these
occasions, but they thrilled him, increased his faith. And it touched
me to the very heaven of my heart when I discovered that if the dying
man was unconverted, an "outbreaking" sinner, he was wont to omit the
harder doctrines, and generously lift him to the Lord in prayer upon
the easy pledge of faith. The Methodists are especially prepared by
the very softness of their creed to afford quick relief to the
dying--just repent and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved!

Looking back through the years, across many, many graves, it seems to
me I can see the footprints of William shining yet in the dark of death
nights as he journeyed forth to whisper hope into pale ears, and to
offer his strange, unearthly consolation to those about to be left
behind. Very soon after we were married there came a knock at the door
one night and a voice crying:

"Come quick, Brother Thompson; old Davy Dyer is dyin'. Doctor says he
can't last till daybreak, and he's hollerin' for a preacher same as if
he hadn't been ag'in God all his life."

Davy Dyer was the blacksmith and the only infidel in the country, a
grimy old Vulcan with white beard and the eagle's implacable eye. One
of William's braveries was to go there to have his red-headed horse
shod and to sit upon the edge of the anvil block while it was being
done, and gently try to wheedle him toward Heaven. Now, however, at
last he was to have the best of the argument. Davy was dying, about to
be turned out of the house and home of his spirit, and he wanted the
preacher to help him find another. He must have another. No matter
how intelligent a man is, or how scientific his method is, there is
something in him that _he can't think back to dust_, an unknown formula
that belongs to the unknown.

The time was very short and William hurried away as if he had doves on
his feet and the words of eternal life on his lips.

He returned in the opal dawn of the summer morning whitened and weary,
but in his high ceremonial mood.

"He died in the faith," he answered calmly.

I had my doubts, my sniffing Canterbury doubts, but the bland light
upon his face