and my presence and voice are necessary."
But that you may appreciate the contrast with your pleasant place of
meeting, let me take you to the old commissary building.

It's a _box-house_; that is, it's made of boards set upright and
nailed at the bottom and middle and top to joists. Over this crazy
structure sets a roof made of long oaken shingles hewn with the broad
axe. Step inside of the building, which will hold 125 people, and see
the whole construction. Rough boards with the curve of the circular
saw on them and now dingy with smoke, make the sides; oaken shingles
black with smoke, slope above.

A "cannon stove" sends most of its smoke through a rusty pipe up
through a piece of sheet iron to the air. The sparks, and now and
then a star, shine through about the pipe. Newspapers pasted over the
widest cracks on the sides of the room keep out the heaviest drafts.
I remember one night when it was snowing (even here, in March), a
flurry of wind brought down a glistening shower on the shoulders of
the congregation. The roof usually turns water, however.

Please stand here by the door and talk to the people. Feet get cold?
I don't wonder. The door was made an inch and a half too short. You
ask "why in the name of health don't you fix it?" Well, just sit
there against the wall. You sit down, and a projecting horizontal
joist takes you right in the back of the neck and makes you crane
your head forward in a most uncomfortable way. Poor place to get
asleep; one would pitch right forward on the floor. You see, if we
commenced to "fix up," we wouldn't know where to begin, for one lack
is as great as another. One night we held a meeting in that building,
and before morning the thermometer fell to zero. We need a good
stove; that one is full of cracks in front, so we always left a boy
to watch after meeting till the fire died out. We just make the house
do; strips have been laid on the floor, paper pasted over the wall
gaps, seats of rough boards set in the building, windows tightened,
and there we gathered. God's Spirit met us in spite of cold and
dinginess and needs. I believe ten or twelve rose for prayers during
those two weeks. Since warm weather Brother Myers has continued the
meetings, and I trust a score or more have given their hearts to the
Lord.

JAS. T. FORD.

* * * * *

STUDENT'S LETTER.

TALLADEGA COLLEGE, Talladega, Ala., April, 1885.

It is wonderful to notice how