into each other's church connections, so great was their interest in the
tasks in hand. Afterwards, the Methodist brother learned that he had
entertained a Baptist unawares--Selah.

An interesting disclosure was recently made, when the organ of Vine St.
Congregational Church in Cincinnati was removed from the rear to the front
of the auditorium. Midway between ceiling and floor, on either side of the
recess, were two doors in the wall. These could only be reached by
ladders. What were they for? Ah, they have a history. They open into rooms
which, in ante-bellum days, were used as stations of the "underground
railway." Here fugitives from across the Ohio were secreted until they
could be spirited on, by night, towards the waters of Erie. These doors on
the wall speak volumes for the history of the church. I wonder not that
even now, though in the very commercial center of the city, far from the
residence portion, this church is in full career of evangelistic life.
Churches with such doors as those in their walls need not be expected to
vegetate, nor to die.

I like to visit the smaller churches as opportunity is given. Their zeal
for the causes of humanity is often very intense and intelligent.
Sometimes, too, their contributions are a surprise. I know a little
country church in Ohio that one day raised forty-six dollars when only
forty-five persons were present. It was ten miles by stage from the
railroad. Now another gratifying surprise: out of that little flock
several people are planning to go to the Northampton meeting.

I also know a church of foreigners, ninety-seven in membership, that
raised forty-seven dollars and fifty cents for our work in an evening
collection, or about fifty cents _per capita_. Awhile ago these foreigners
were a part of our _City_ problem. By the grace of God, they are now out