ing light of
downtown, but it was growing in solidity and strength.

Among the others we came across the preacher we had seen holding forth
on the wharf. He was engaged, with the assistance of two men of the
Methodist persuasion, in building a church. The three had themselves cut
and hewed the timbers. Mr. Taylor, for that was his name, explained to
me that, having no money, that seemed the the only way to get a church.
He showed us his own place, a little shack not unlike the others, but
enclosed, and planted with red geraniums, nasturtiums and other bright
things.

"As far as I know," he told us with pride, "that is the first garden in
San Francisco."

In the backyard he had enclosed three chickens--two hens and a cock.

"I paid eighteen dollars for them," said he.

We looked at each other in startled astonishment. The sum appeared a
trifle extravagant considering the just-acknowledged impecuniosity of
the church. He caught the glance.

"Boys," he said quaintly, "San Francisco is a very lonesome place for
the godly. The hosts of sin are very strong, and the faithful are very
few. Mortal flesh is weak; and mortal spirit is prone to black
discouragement. When I bought those chickens I bought eighteen dollars'
worth of hope. Somehow Sunday morning seems more like the Sabbath with
them clicking around sleepy and lazy and full of sun."

We liked him so much that we turned to at odd times and helped him with
his carpenter work. While thus engaged he confided to us his intention
to preach against the gambling the next Sunday in the Plaza. We stopped
hammering to consider this.

"I shouldn't, if I were you," said I. "The gamblers own the Plaza; they
are respected by the bulk of the community; and they won't stand any
nonsense. They none of them think anything of shooting a man in their
places. I don't think they will stand for it. I am afraid you will be
roughly handled."

"More likely shot," put in Johnny bluntly.

"Well, well, boys, we'll see," said Taylor easily.

Nor could we move him, in spite of the fact that, as we came to see his
intention was real, we urged very earnestly against it.

"Well, if you will, you will," Johnny conceded at last, with a sigh.
"We'll see what we can do to get you a fair show."

"Now that is just what I don't want you to do," begged the old man
earnestly. "I want no vain contention and strife. If the Lord desires
that I preach to these sinners, He will protect me."

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