! Call the roll of Pierce's Cabinet? Dead! Call
the roll of Abraham Lincoln's Cabinet? Dead! The Congressional burying
ground in the city of Washington had then 170 cenotaphs raised in honour
of members.

While I was in Chicago, in the spring of 1892, there came about an
almost national discussion as to whether the World's Fair should be kept
open on Sunday. Nearly all the ministers foresaw empty churches if the
fair were kept open.

In spite of the personal malice against me of one of the great editors
of New York, the people did not seem to lose their confidence in the
Christian spirit. Both Dr. Parkhurst and myself were the targets of this
brilliant man's sarcasm and satire at this time, but neither of us were
demoralised or injured in the course of our separate ways of duty.

In the summer of 1892 the working plans of what the newspapers
generously called my vacation took me to Europe on a tour of Great
Britain and Ireland, including a visit to Russia, to await the arrival
of a ship-load of food sent by the religious weekly of which I was
editor. Some criticism was made of the way I worked instead of rested in
vacation time.

Someone asked me if I believed in dreams. I said, no; I believed in
sleep, but not in dreams. The Lord, in olden times, revealed Himself in
dreams, but I do not think He does so often now. When I was at school we
parsed from "Young's Night Thoughts," but I had no very pleasant
memories of that book. I had noticed that dreamers are often the prey of
consumption. It seems to have a fondness for exquisite natures--dreamy,
spiritual, a foe of the finest part of the human family. There was Henry
Kirke White, the author of that famous hymn, "When Marshalled on the
Nightly Plains," who, dying of consumption, wrote it with two feet in
the grave, and recited it with power when he could not move from his
chair.

We sailed on the "New York," June 15, 1892, for Europe. This preaching
tour in England was urged upon me by ties of friendship, made years
before, by the increased audiences I had already gained through my
public sermons, and of my own hearty desire to see them all face to
face. My first sermon in London was given on June 25, 1892, in the City
Temple, by invitation of that great English preacher, Dr. Joseph Parker.
When my sermon was over, Dr. Parker said to his congregation:--

"I thank God for Dr. Talmage's life and ministry, and I despise the man
who cannot appreciate his services to Ch