The meetings are held in a pleasant, well-lighted and ventilated room on the first floor. Near the entrance hangs a sign, inscribed as follows: “Strangers and the Poor Always Welcome.” Over the inside walls is the favorite scriptural verse of Colonel Clarke, which reads: “Christ came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am Chief.” The room is neatly furnished, and is provided with a cabinet organ. The genius of the place is Harry Munroe, the assistant superintendent of the mission. He is a powerful messenger of the Gospel to the lost ones of the great city. He is a man with sharp eyes and quick, decisive manner. He is thoroughly in earnest in his work, and understands the character and habits of the class to whom he appeals. Being intense in his purposes and animated by a desire to win sinners to the Saviour, he is able to speak with effectual power to these rough men, who listen respectfully to his words, and are attracted to him by those personal peculiarities that fit him for his work—a work that is unique, and has become one of the most important in the great city. As the clock points to the hour for song and testimony, Harry opens his hymn-book, and calls out in a strong, cheery voice, “sixty-nine,” and thereupon the singing begins, accompanied by the cabinet organ, and the singers whose voices were once raised only in blasphemy. If the singing is a little faint, Harry spurs up his audience by calling out, “Don’t be afraid of your voices, boys; sing out with your whole soul,” and generally the volume of praise grows stronger and fuller. The testimonies roll in as the meeting progresses, strange and startling many of them, some so quaintly worded that they would provoke a smile in a more “respectable” prayer-meeting, but all given with an earnestness and pathos that is wonderful. Sometimes a drunken man will endeavor to interrupt the meeting. One night a man of this kind staggered to his feet, and hiccoughed, “Jesus saves me, too.” “That ain’t so,” replied Harry, emphatically; “Jesus don’t save any man that is full of rum.” And down sits the man, utterly abashed by the quick retort. Harry acts as his own policeman, and meets all attempts at disturbances on the ground. The offenders are seized in his powerful grasp, and led to the door, and put into the street, first being entreated to be quiet and lead better lives. As the testimonies are given the audience is deeply moved. Yonder is a street-walker, kneeling on the floor, with her face hidden in her hands, sobbing bitterly. Mrs. Clarke, or one of the co-workers goes down to the poor outcast, and whispers to her despairing soul the only words of hope she ever heard. Others give evidence of their desire to be saved, and the meeting devotes itself to prayer for them. Mrs. Clarke’s keen eye sweeps the room, and at once detects the hesitating. In an instant she is at their side, devoting her mild, but powerful eloquence to urging them to take the decisive step then and there.