He has told us of one occasion when he attended a meeting of the Presbytery with his father. Great efforts were made at these meetings to awaken a religious interest among the people especially in the church where the meetings were held. Several sermons had been delivered on this occasion, with no great effect, when he was called upon to preach. He selected for his subject “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” “As I went on describing the going away of the sinner from God the people became interested; as I described the sinner’s coming to himself the interest increased; but when I came to the return of the sinner to God, and God’s readiness, even hastening, to receive him, the whole audience broke down, and father, who was on the platform with me, said, wiping his eyes and spectacles, ‘Thank the Lord! a revival is begun.’ Mr. C———, a good brother, grasped my hand after the sermon with great fervor. ‘You did well, Beecher, you did well; but you ought to have given ’em salt instead of sugar.’ But since the salt had been tried several days without effect, and the sugar, as he called my preaching, brought many to Christ, I did not agree with him.” His zealous labors were by no means confined to Indianapolis. He was constantly called to help in the towns and villages throughout the centre of the State. One, two, and even three weeks at a time he would be gone, laboring to help some brother striving to awaken his people. Terre Haute, Madison, Greenwood, Greencastle, Lafayette, Logansport, Fort Wayne, Laporte, and Columbus are the names we find most frequently endorsed on the manuscript notes of his old revival sermons now before us. These were the days he loved to look back upon; though full of hardship, privations, and not a little suffering, they were also full of that great joy which comes to those who labor successfully in winning souls. Revisiting Terre Haute in one of his lecture tours many years afterward, and for the first time after coming East, he writes back: “And now my face is turned homeward! I am bound to Terre Haute—clear across the prairie that I once traversed in early days. Farm touches farm over these wide expanses which, forty years ago, I thought could never be inhabited! No coal, no timber—how, except along the streams, could men settle and thrive? Railroads, those dry and solid rivers, have solved the problem. “Is this Terre Haute? How has thy prosperity increased and thy beauty diminished! “I wandered up and down the streets to find _my_ Terre Haute! It was gone, covered up, lost, utterly lost, in new streets, new buildings! Where is the former green? Where the quiet fields within bowshot of the town?