_Subject—Gipsy Life_.’”

I knew that would fetch them.

At half-past six the hut was crowded with eight hundred Munsters. If you
are an old angler, indeed if you know anything at all about angling, you
know that you have got to consider two or three things if you are to stand
any chance of a catch. You have got to study your tackle, you have got to
study your bait, you have got to study the habits of your fish. When the
time came to begin that meeting, one of the workers said,

“Shall I bring the box of hymn-books out?”

“No, no,” I replied; “that’s the wrong bait.”

Those Munster boys knew nothing about hymn-books. We preachers have got to
come off our pedestals and not give our hearers what we want, but the
thing that will catch them. If a pretty, catchy Sankey hymn will attract a
crowd, why shouldn’t we use it instead of an anthem? If a brass band will
catch them, why shouldn’t we play it instead of an organ?

“Keep back those hymn-books,” I said. “They know nothing about
hymn-books.” I had a pretty good idea of what would have happened if those
hymn-books had been produced at the start.

I got on that platform, and I looked at those eight hundred Munsters and
said, “Boys, are we down-hearted?”

“_No_,” they shouted.