during the fall of 1876, in a large Tabernacle erected for the occasion by John V. Farwell. It was capable of seating more than eight thousand. At one of these meetings Mr. Moody's attention was attracted by an usher with a wand in his hand, seating the people as they came in. Mr. Moody did not like the man's appearance. He asked the chairman of the committee, Mr. Harvey, who the usher was. Mr. Harvey replied that he did not know, but would go and see. Taking the man out into the inquiry room, Mr. Harvey learned that his name was Guiteau-the man who afterward shot President Garfield. So great was Mr. Moody's power in reading character.

At the close of the three months' mission in Chicago, a farewell service was held for those alone who professed to have been brought to Christ during the meetings, and it was attended by six thousand persons.

Then, for six months, we conducted meetings in Boston. On an average, three meetings a day were held, in a large temporary building erected for the occasion by a committee of wealthy gentlemen. Here also we had the hearty co-operation of many prominent ministers and laymen, among whom Dr. A. J. Gordon, Dr. Joseph Cook, Phillips Brooks, and Henry M. Moore may be mentioned. Among those who professed conversion at these meetings was H. M. F.

Marshall, who afterward removed to Northfield, and there, under Mr. Moody's direction, erected a number of the school buildings.

New Haven was our next field of labor. Many of the Yale University students were here converted, and afterward became useful ministers of the gospel throughout the country.

At Hartford, which we next visited, Mark Twain attended several of our meetings. On one occasion P. T. Barnum, the famous showman, attended and remained for an inquiry meeting, where it was my privilege to speak to him in regard to his spiritual condition. In our conversation he said: “Mr. Sankey, you go on singing 'The Ninety and Nine,' and when you get that lost sheep in the fold we will all be saved." I afterward learned that he was a Universalist.

For the next six months we conducted meetings in the churches of St. Louis. Able assistance was rendered by the Rev. J. H. Brookes and other eminent ministers. At one of the inquiry meetings I asked a fine-looking man as he was leaving the meeting, if he was a Christian. “No,” he replied, “I am a Missourian."

On our first visit to California, we stopped at Ogden, so as not to travel on Sunday, and went to Salt Lake City on Saturday afternoon. As soon as it became known that we were in the city, we were

invited by the Presbyterian minister to hold services. in his church, which we did. The interest at once became so great that we decided to change our plans and stay here for a couple of weeks. The church soon became too small for the great crowds, and we were invited to the Methodist Church, the largest in the city. Many Mormons attended the meetings, and one night two daughters of President Taylor went into the inquiry room and professed conversion. The solo singing was of great interest to the Mormons. A gentleman from England, who had become a Mormon, and who was collector of tithes, took a great fancy to Mr. Moody, of whom he had heard much from friends in England, and invited us to hold meetings in the Mormon Tabernacle. This, however, we declined. The Englishman said to Moody: "You are all right, only you don't go far enough." When Moody asked what he meant he said: "You do not have the revelation of Joseph Smith in your Bible." Moody answered that he was thankful for it; that he had no gospel of man, and that if Joseph Smith could have a revelation, D. L. Moody could have one also. This closed their discussion. A great crowd of people, among whom were many Mormons, came to the station to bid us good bye. Mr. Moody never visited Salt Lake City again.

Our work spread out in all directions, and hun

dreds of cities were visited, not only throughout the United States, but in Canada, and even in Mexico, much blessing attending all the services.

At a meeting in Norfolk, as Mr. Moody was about to begin his sermon, after I had sung a number of hymns, the minister of the church stepped up and said: "I want to make a little explanation to my people; many of my members believe that Moody and Sankey are one man, but brethren and sisters, this man is Mr. Moody, and that man at the organ is Mr. Sankey; they are not one person, as you supposed."

At Chattanooga the colored people boycotted our meetings, the colored ministers taking offense because they were not invited to take seats on the platform. We arranged a special meeting for the colored people, and were surprised to find the church nearly empty when we arrived. But Moody was not to be defeated in this way. He went out into the street and gave personal invitation to hundreds of colored people, and no further difficulty was experienced.

On one occasion, when I was leaving Chicago for New York on an evening train, a gentleman took his seat beside me. For some time nothing was said, but after a while we got into a general conversation. After discussing the weather and politics, we entered upon the subject of religion. This finally led to the discussion of Moody and Sankey. The stranger

said that he had never had the pleasure of hearing either of them. When I told him that I had often heard Moody preach and Sankey sing, he seemed much interested and asked:

"What kind of folks are they?"

"Oh, they are just common folks like you and me," I replied.

His daughter, he said, had a cabinet organ and they were all very fond of the "Gospel Hymns," and he was sorry that he had not had the opportunity to hear Sankey sing 'The Ninety and Nine before he died. I told him I was much surprised, and asked him what proof he had of Sankey's death. He replied that he had seen it in the papers.

"It must be true if you have seen it in the papers," I said.

By this time we were nearing the station where my friend was to get out. Hearing the whistle blow, he looked out of the window and remarked: "I have enjoyed your company very much, but will soon have to leave you now."

"I hardly think it is fair that we should part without telling you that I am one of the men we have been talking about," I said.

"Why, who are you?" he asked.

"I am what is left of Sankey."

At this he reached for his gripsack, and giving me