save him from his wicked ways. The impressions I received during those
stirring days never will leave me. I tell you, Eva, it meant something
for Father to stand true as he did, and I think heaven will be
especially sweet to those who have suffered as he has suffered."

When he had left off speaking and the family knelt in prayer, Harry
Benton's voice trembled with emotion as he prayed for all those back
home whom he remembered, and especially for his father.

When the morning chores were done and Harry Benton started to the Full
Salvation Mission, which mission he had superintended and supported for
a number of years, he was met on his front porch by a Western Union
messenger boy, who took from beneath his blue cap a slip of yellow paper
and handed it to him. This is how it read: "Come, Father very low."

Benton telephoned one of his brethren to take charge of the Mission, and
after earnestly beseeching the Lord to spare his father until his
bedside could be reached, he and his wife made hasty arrangements to
start, and were soon speeding across the fertile fields of Illinois.
They crossed the mighty Mississippi, changed trains in St. Louis' big
Union Depot, and after a few hours' ride their train was gliding past
old familiar scenes of bygone days.

"Dobbinsville, Dobbinsville," shouted the porter as he thrust his face
in at the door of the coach. Three short jerks at the signal
cord--swish, swish, swish--back from the engine--t-oot-oot-oot--a sudden
let-up in speed, a screech of the airbrakes, a bang of the door, and the
Texas Canon-Ball made one of its seldom stops at Dobbinsville and Harry
Benton and his family stepped to the platform.