waving, steel-gray eyes, a strong aquiline nose and frank, serious
face.

He had been called from a town in southern Indiana to the Pilgrim
Congregational Church in New York when, on its last legs, it was
about to sell out and move uptown. He had created a sensation, and
in six months the building could not hold the crowds which struggled
to hear him.

His voice was one of great range and its direct personal tone put
him in touch with every hearer. Before they knew it his accents
quivered with emotion that swept the heart. Emotional thinking
was his trait. He could thrill his crowd with a sudden burst of
eloquence, but he loved to use the deep vibrant subtones of his
voice so charged with feeling that he melted the people into tears.
His face, flashing and trembling, smiling and clouding with hidden
fires of passion, held every eye riveted. His gestures were few and
seemed the resistless burst of enormous reserve power--an impression
made stronger by his great hairy blue-veined hands and the way
he stood on his big, broad feet. He spoke in impassioned moments
with the rush of lightning, and yet each word fell clean-cut and
penetrating.

An idealist and dreamer, in love with life, colour, form, music and
beauty, he had the dash and brilliancy, the warmth and enthusiasm
of a born leader of men. The impulsive champion of the people, the
friend of the weak, he had become the patriot prophet of a larger
democracy.

A passion for music, and a fad for precious stones, especially