the long prayer. When the audience reverently bowed their heads my own
eyes were irresistibly drawn toward the preacher. For he prayed as if
he felt that he was addressing an all-powerful, omnipresent, tender,
loving Heavenly Father who was listening to his appeal. And as he went
on and on with increasing fervour and power a marvellous change
transfigured that heavy face, it shone with a white light and
spiritual feeling, as if he fully realized his communion with God
Himself. I used to think of that phrase in Matthew:

"And was transfigured before them,
And his face did shine as the sun."

I never heard anyone mention this marvellous transformation. But I
remember that Beecher once acknowledged to a reporter that he never
knew what he had said in his sermon until he looked at the résumé in
Monday's paper.

During the hard days of Beecher's trial a lady who was a guest at the
house told me she was waked one morning by the merry laughter of
Beecher's little grandchildren and peeping into their room found Mr.
Beecher having a jolly frolic with them. He was trying to get them
dressed; his efforts were most comical, putting on their garments
wrong side out or buttoning in front when they were intended to fasten
in the back, and "funny Grandpa" enjoying it all quite as sincerely as
these little ones. A pretty picture.

Saxe (John Godfrey) called during one recess hour. The crowds of girls
passing back and forth interested him, as they seemed to care less for
eating than for wreathing their arms round each other, with a good
deal of kissing, and "deary," "perfectly lovely," etc. He described