with harps on
the banners,--a long procession, in barouches, on horseback, and afoot.
There have been impassioned addresses before the Hibernian Society and
the Saint Peter's Young Men's Irish Catholic Benevolent Association.
There has been more or less celebration in Ship Street.

The evening advances. It is seven o'clock. Strains of invitation issue
from all the dance-halls. Already the people have begun to file in to
the Day-Star Mission. The audience-room is on the street floor. The
missionary stands at the open door, with anxious smiles, urging decorum.
A knot of idlers on each side of the doorway, on the sidewalk, comment
freely on him and on those who enter. Every moment or two a policeman
forces them back.

At a quarter of seven a preliminary praise-meeting begins. Singing from
within jars against the fiddling from over the way. You hear at once
"Come to Jesus just now!" and "Old Dan Tucker."

Already the seats are filled,--eight in a settee; those who come
now will have to stand. Still, people continue to file in: laborers,
Portuguese sewing-women, two or three firemen in long-tailed coats
and silver buttons, from Hook and Ladder Six, in the next block;
gross-looking women, _habitues_ of the Mission, with children; women
who are _habitues_ of no mission; prosperous saloon-keepers; one of the
councilmen of the ward,--he is a saloon-keeper too.

Dr. Parsons's train brought him to town in good season. He passed in
with other invited guests at the private door, and he has been upon the
platform for ten minutes. His daughter is beside him; ten or a dozen of
his parishioners, who have come too, occupy seats directly in front.

The platform seats are nearly all taken; it is time to begin. The
street-door opens and a passage is made for a new-comer. It is Mr.
Martin. A contingent from his church come with him and fill the few
chairs that are still reserved about the desk.

Now all would appear to be ready; but there is still a few moments'
pause. The missionary is probably completing some preliminary
arrangements. The audience sit in stolid expectation.

Dr. Parsons, from beneath his eyebrows, is studying the faces before
him. In this short time his address has entirely changed form in his
mind. It was simple as he had planned it; it must be simpler yet But he
has felt the pulse of the people before him. He feels that he can hold
them, that he can stir them.

Meanwhile a whispered colloquy is going on, at the